Don't come after me, okay? Set me free.
God. He clenched his fists, his shoulders heaving as he looked for something else to throw. The TV was close by, and he grabbed the flatscreen and slammed it into the wall, viciously enjoying the shower of broken pieces that rained down onto the carpets.
Fuck everything.
His heart had just been pulled out of his chest and stomped on by a petite, gorgeous woman who he loved with all of his soul. Someone who he didn't make happy. That gnawed at him worse than anything. He couldn't make her happy. Even if she stayed with him, she'd still be miserable.
He couldn't win her love back. There was no love for her to give him.
Violet didn't even want to try. He thought she was letting down her walls, letting him back into her heart. Instead, she'd closed right back up again and shut him out as if she felt nothing for him. As if he was nothing.
And he was helpless to do anything about it. She didn't want him to come after her.
She didn't want him at all.
With an angry snarl of rage, he ran his hands over the dresser, smashing everything on it to the ground.
-
Without Violet's beautiful, smiling face at his side, Dr. DeWitt's postmortem scavenger hunt held no meaning for Jonathan. He left sunny Santorini and headed for his newest pet project, the dig in Cadiz, but even the glowingly enthusiastic reports from the archaeology team couldn't rouse him out of the dark cloud of apathy hanging over his head.
After two days in Spain, he headed back to New York to bury himself in work. While Lyons Motors had a fleet of extremely capable chairmen and his private company ran itself without much intervention from the owner, from time to time, he'd stick his hands in and toy with a new project. This time, he suggested that research and development come up with a new model of car to break into a different market. It was a distraction ploy, but not a great one. He called meetings and met with engineers and designers and listened to enthusiastic suggestions, hoping to feel that same spark inside himself.
It was useless. No matter what he did, he couldn't get Violet's dead eyes and her too-calm expression out of his mind. The way she'd so efficiently cut him out of her life again.
Last time, she'd begged him to come home with her. This time, it was obvious she was booting him before she had the chance to get hurt again. In the ten years since they'd been parted, Violet had learned to push everyone away. She'd been perfectly happy with him that morning, but as soon as her father's letters had been found, she'd shut him down and forced him out of her life.
And the sad thing was, he understood why she'd pushed him away. He knew she had been hurt terribly, both by her father and by him. He knew she was terrified of being hurt again. But how could he prove that he wouldn't hurt her when she didn't even want to try and let him into her life?
He couldn't sleep at night because he ached to have her beside him. He couldn't concentrate during the days because he kept wondering what Violet was doing. Was she as miserable as he was? Or was she already back into her old routine, her heart carefully armored? Or was she crying and miserable because she wanted to love him and she was terrified to? What if the condoms and her birth control had both failed and she was somehow pregnant again? And he'd abandoned her once more?
He picked up the phone and put it down a dozen times every day. If he called her, he'd be harassing her because she'd said specifically that she didn't want him to contact her. She had his information; she knew where to get him. He told himself that, and that if there was a problem, or if she wanted him, she'd call.
But Violet never called, and Jonathan was forced to admit to himself that maybe his love was one-sided after all. Maybe he loved Violet more than she'd ever loved him.
Maybe one person's love just wasn't enough for a relationship.
-
"You look like shit, man," Reese called as Jonathan sat in his familiar spot at the poker table.
"Business meeting ran late," he said tonelessly, picking up his empty glass and raising it with the other five men as they called their meeting of the Brotherhood to order. "Fratres in prosperitatum," he announced with the others. They'd been waiting on him to start their weekly meeting.
"This meeting of the Brotherhood is called into session," Logan said. "Now, ante up, boys." He began to deal cards around the table as the men settled in for a long night of cards, cigars, and business talk.
Jonathan put down his empty glass and pushed it to the side of the table. Normally he'd enjoy a bit of Scotch with his cards, but he'd lost all taste for alcohol ever since he'd seen that awful look in Violet's eyes when he'd drunk himself into a stupor. Not that it mattered if he drank anymore, if Violet was cutting him out of her life. He considered the glass, and then shook his head. To Jonathan, it still mattered.