He didn’t like it, either. She trusted him and helped him and he repaid her by being the world’s biggest jerk. She was like a balm, healing all the fragmented pieces of his life and nothing turned his gut more than the thought of hurting her. That was exactly why he sent her out of his life this morning, but apparently he had fucked that up, too. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he rocked back on his heels. “Look, Annette, I know I’m not good enough for Violet. That’s why I said that shit this morning, but I certainly don’t want to hurt her. Let me make it up to her tonight. I’ll take care of her and I’ll apologize. I’ll do whatever it takes to fix this.”
Annette’s eyes swept over every detail of his body as though she was the judge, the jury, and the executioner, and at that moment she probably was. Freedom meant making this mess right with Violet and he had the feeling Annette held the key to making that happen. “You look familiar,” she finally said after few heavy moments of silent deliberation.
Alec sucked his lip ring into his mouth, keeping his face completely neutral while adjusting his arm to cover the Chasing Ruin symbol tattooed on his ribs. Except for a super fan, not many people would recognize it. Marcus had come up with the symbol when they started playing in dive bars in Southern California. It was a “R” inside of a “C” with flames erupting out of the “C.” Excited to finally be making some money from their love of music, he and Marcus tattooed the symbol on their ribs after a show one night. While Marcus had stopped after that tattoo, it was the first of many for Alec and now he had too many, but he couldn’t stop himself when the urge to add to his body art hit him. The pain and repetitive sound of the needle quieted his mind.
“I don’t think we’ve ever met,” he answered. The last thing he needed right now was a meddling, very pissed off Annette to figure out that not only had he mistreated her friend, he also hadn’t been entirely honest about his identity. His volunteer application skirted the truth, as did many of his conversations with Violet and at some point in time, he needed to confess.
“Hm,” Annette said, her eyes squinting like she could suck the truth from him by mental osmosis. She couldn’t break him. With a life and identity rooted in half-truths and outright lies, he had learned to lie, dip, weave and evade with the best of them.
“What’s the verdict?” he said when he couldn’t stand one more minute of her inspection.
Her eyes snapped back to his face. “You can stay. Violet can’t be alone and I have to wake up early, so I need some sleep tonight, which won’t happen if I stay here, but you have to promise me that I can trust her with you. I think I can, and I’m normally a fairly decent judge of character, but I need your word that you’ll be a gentleman.”
His lips twitched suddenly, finding this conversation comical. He never considered himself a gentleman. He had too many tattoos and too many questionable nights under his belt for that label. “I’ll do my best interpretation of one.”
“Against my better judgment, I believe you.”
“So we’re okay?” he said, folding his arms across his bare chest. He should probably retrieve a new shirt at some point and take a shower to wash off the lingering smell of vomit.
“That remains to be seen, but you seem somewhat sincere, so I’ll give you another chance.” She started walking backwards out of the hallway. “I’ll leave my number on the kitchen counter if you need any help.”
“Thanks.” Before she could say anything else, he turned and headed back into Violet’s room. He didn’t want Annette to change her mind.
It was going to be a long night watching Violet sleep. All day long, he couldn’t get the vivid images of Violet out of his mind. Her beautifully sculpted legs wrapped around him, with her pale hair showering the pillowcase behind her head as he moved inside of her. All of it made him clamor for another taste. What the hell was he thinking?
Chapter Sixteen
Groaning, Violet woke the next morning only to be greeted by bright light streaming into her bedroom, searing her eyeballs, and the smell of bacon and eggs curling into her nose. The need to empty her stomach and her bladder hit so fast, she nearly fell on the floor when she rolled out of bed.
Her bare feet slapped against the hardwood floor in her hallway, and echoed off the plaster walls. When she reached the end of the hall, she threw open the door, flinging herself forward, stubbing her toe on the base of the toilet. For a second, she stood utterly frozen, wondering whether she should vomit or pee first until she decided the bathroom was small enough that she could throw up in the sink while emptying her bladder if necessary.