I chuckle and she nudges my foot with her toe. My brief moment of lightness dissipates as I recall the rest of the conversation with the board and contemplate how deep of a cut I want to make on my wrist. “The police are coming to talk with us tomorrow. Going to show us pictures so we can identify the guys that kidnapped us.”
I pause and the silence builds, stealing my courage instead of adding to it.
“And?”
“The board is leaving it up to me if we want the police to go after Skull and his son. If I tell them to go after them, it can cause a full-out war between our clubs. If I tell them no...” Then there will be no justice for their role. “The cops aren’t sure they can prove they were involved anyhow. Can’t disprove their claim that they were our saviors.”
“Do I get a vote?” she asks.
According to the board, no. But... “Tell me what it is.”
I expect an instant answer, but instead the bed shifts as she rolls so that she’s facing me. “Maybe we shouldn’t identify anybody. Maybe we should do nothing.”
My eyes narrow. “You think we should let them get away with what they did? To give Fiend the opportunity to hurt us again? To hurt someone else we love?”
“This war between the Terror and the Riot has been going on since we were babies. If we go after Fiend, then maybe someone who is loyal to him will come after us. Just like you’re saying why we shouldn’t go after Skull.”
“They hurt you,” I say slowly and overpronounce each word. “Someone has to face judgment for that. Men like this, they only understand one thing—punishment. If we show them we aren’t afraid—that we’re willing to pursue legal action—then it’ll stop anyone else coming behind them.”
“So you’re saying that goes for everyone but Skull.”
She’s got me cornered and I’ve got to slip right, then shift left to move the ball down the field. “You want to go after him, then I’ll tell the board yes and we’ll do everything possible to nail that bastard to the wall.”
Violet gathers her hair at the nape of her neck, then lets it go so that it flows over her shoulder. “If there was a way to keep your mom, my mom, Brandon, Cyrus, Oz, Razor and most of the people out there in that clubhouse safe, would you do it?”
“Yeah.” In a heartbeat.
“Me, too,” she whispers so quietly I’m not sure if she really said it, but then says, “If I ask you something, will you tell me the truth? At least the closest to the truth you’re willing to share?”
“Yes.”
“What did Skull talk to you about in the kitchen? I know it was serious because I read the way you looked at me when I stepped out of the bathroom. You were warning me off.”
I rub my forehead, then roll my neck. Even though I’ve admitted it once, it doesn’t get easier saying it aloud again. “Skull told me my father was a traitor. That he was loyal to the Riot, not to the Terror.”
Violet places a hand to her lips as my words soak in.
“Cyrus says it’s not true,” I add like that can take away the sting.
“What do you think?”
That I left that basement with more questions than there are possible answers. “I don’t know.” If Skull was right and my father was a traitor, then why did he trade sides? I’ve been raised to hate the Riot, but what did my father know that I don’t?
Violet reaches over and rests her hand on my cheek. Her fingertips feathering up and along my jaw. “I’m so sorry.”
Yeah, so am I. I suck in a deep breath and tell her my darkest thought. “I need to know if Dad was loyal to the Riot.”
“Do you have any idea how to figure it out?”
“Skull mentioned there was a woman I could talk to, but I didn’t ask for her name and he didn’t give it. Might mean talking to Skull again.”
Violet snuggles closer, and as she does, I sink further until my head is on the pillow beside her. I’m not just holding her now, she’s also holding me.
“You need him to stay out of jail,” she whispers.
I guess I do. “He probably planned it this way. Probably told me this lie to buy himself a get-out-of-jail-free pass.”
“I’ve thought of that, but what if what they said is true? James lived in Louisville. He died there. He’s buried there. I’ve always thought that was weird, but if I asked—”
“You were shut down.” Just like I’ve been shut down by Cyrus, Eli and even my mom.
“Promise you’ll keep me involved,” she says. “Maybe knowing what’s happening, feeling like I have some sort of control over it, will help me feel normal again.”
Not sure if she’s talking about what the board has to say about the Riot or about my father, but I don’t care. She wants normal, so do I, and like in that basement, I’m going to fight for both of us. And like in that basement, I need Violet fighting for me, too. “I promise.”
“Do you remember when I first told you I loved you?” she asks.
The memory hits me like a jolt of electricity. I started my first varsity game that night, and I had scored two touchdowns. That entire night was a celebration. With the team, back at the clubhouse and then with just Oz, Razor and Violet.
We sat on the front porch laughing, talking, shooting the shit, enjoying my win because a win for one of us was a win for us all. Violet sat beside me and I memorized the way she laughed and the way her blue eyes kept finding mine. That smile she gave me when I held her gaze for longer than a second—best moments of my life.
Not soon after, we called it a night. Violet retired into this room. Razor, Oz and I to the room across the way. I waited for Oz and Razor to fall asleep and then I crept over here. I lay beside her, Violet held her hand out to me and then I kissed her.
That kiss—made the world spin. She melted into me, I fell deeply into her, and when our lips finally separated, she whispered those three beautiful words to me. Her trust in me, her love for me—rocked who I was and made me someone better.
“I remember.”
“Me, too.” Violet rests her head on my chest and her leg over mine. I wrap an arm around her, keeping her close, then tunnel my fingers into her hair.
Her fingers graze up and down my arm and her touch is comforting and intoxicating. My body pulses with the need to kiss her, but also with the need to just keep her close. Slowly her caresses come at a slower rate, her body becomes still and her breaths even out.
Best friend. Violet has always been my best friend, but it’s more than that. She’s always been a piece of me, and without her the world was cold—a bitter freeze that cut deep to the bone.
But I’m no longer in that freezing basement. She’s here beside me. Violet is warm and soft and all the two million thoughts in my mind stall out and there’s finally silence. A comfortable, peaceful silence.
Violet
PHYSICAL THERAPY STINKS.
Stinks.
Like pigs in mud.
Like milk that’s gone sour.
Like dog poop stuck to the bottom of my shoe.
Stinks.
It’s not like I was a huge fan of treadmills and stationary bikes to begin with. Sweating’s not my thing. Also definitely not my thing? My knee being pushed and pulled and practically yanked off like it’s part of a turkey leg on Thanksgiving.