The Gender End (The Gender Game #7)

“I do. Dr. Tierney filled me in. It took a while.”

I stared at him for a long moment, then took a step closer. “Solomon, you don’t have to do this. You’ve been through so much. Your mother needs to see you. She’s been so worried, and—”

“Do you think I don’t know that, Violet?” Solomon announced, softly interrupting me. He lowered his gaze to the floor and shifted. “Violet, I… I remember some of the things I did. Not all of it, and I’m not sure which is worse—the ones I don’t know about, or the ones I do. I killed people… and I didn’t have any control over it.”

“Solomon,” I breathed, guilt radiating through me. “Please. It’s my fault that you… that you took those pills. It’s my fault that you were in this mess. I swore I’d do something to help you, and you’re better now. I don’t want that to change. I can’t bear to see you hurting again.”

“Violet, it’s not your fault. It’s Desmond’s. She gave me the pills without knowing exactly what they would do. She used me as her guinea pig, and I trusted her and went with it anyway.”

“Yes, but if I hadn’t been so—”

“You don’t get to be responsible for the decisions I make,” Solomon declared, resting his hand on my shoulder. “Violet, I respect your authority here, and I care for you deeply—but don’t you see I need this? I… I need a way to strike back at them. To put a stop to any future damage that Elena and Desmond have planned. I need something to absolve me of all the things… all of the things I’ve done. And Violet. I haven’t tested it out, but I think that whatever the people who healed me did, they didn’t take away my enhancement. I have this power now. I want to use it in a way that is better than I did while I couldn’t control myself.”

He wasn’t angry. Or at least, he wasn’t angry with me. There was anger in him, but he kept it tightly leashed, and hidden behind a wall of granite. Even so, there was conviction behind it. I could feel it in his words and see it in how he looked at me. In that moment, I realized that he was right. I didn’t get to make his decisions for him, no matter how badly I wanted to make sure he was safe.

“I’m not saying I understand,” I said after taking a moment to think about it. “But I know we could really use the help. So thank you.”

“Of course, Violet,” he replied with a wan smile.

“You’re more than welcome to be a part of the process,” I said, then turned my attention to the group that had assembled, still standing a few feet away. “But the rest of you should stay here. They’ll need all of you in the rebuilding process, and—”

“We don’t care,” Ms. Dale cut in smoothly. “We’re going. Deal with it.”

“I’ve already begun working on the plan,” Thomas added with a proud smile. “We can’t let you go in alone.”

I stood, looking around the room, my eyes tearing up. I had no idea how I was supposed to respond to any of it, so I just hugged Ms. Dale, hard, and she hugged me back just as hard. When we’d held each other for a minute, she pushed me away, smoothing off the front of her shirt.

“Getting me all sentimental,” she sniffed, her fingers going under her eyes to wipe away any sign of tears. “Now, you’ve got some presents to open! So let’s open them!”

“Actually,” Thomas interjected, taking a step forward. “I was wondering if I could say something.” We all looked at the short man, and I watched, wondering what he was up to, as he adjusted his glasses and fidgeted.

“Of course,” I said with a smile. “What is it?”

“A speech,” he replied absentmindedly, pulling out a small green notebook and flipping it open to a page in the back. Viggo and I exchanged looks, and I took a few steps toward him, my hand extended, reaching for his and finding it.

I looked up to see Thomas watching us, and after a moment, he closed the notebook and put it aside as he began to speak. “As you all know, love is… complicated for me. It is something that adheres to no scientific or mathematic principles—it cannot be measured, weighed, or calculated. As such, it’s hard to credit that it even exists. I was certain we could find life in the stars before we could find scientific evidence that love was real.” He shifted nervously, clearing his throat softly. “The love between Violet and Viggo has been our cornerstone for a long time; whether we were aware of it or not, their love for each other spilled onto the rest of us. I’ve run the numbers, and because of their… synchronicity, our missions succeeded when they should have failed. We believed, when we should’ve called it quits. And we won, when every possible odd was stacked against us. If there were a love that was close to being proven as a scientific reality, versus anecdotal evidence, then it would be between Viggo and Violet.”

He finished with a nod, turned to collect his notebook, and then walked away. I watched him go, my heart thudding against my chest so hard I was convinced it was trying to collapse my lungs. How else could I explain the sudden lump in my throat or the inability to catch my breath fully?

“That was beautiful,” Ms. Dale sniffed, and I looked over through watery eyes to see her pressing a napkin to her eye. “Downright poetry. Somebody put on some music quick, before I break down and cry!”

I laughed, grateful to her for breaking the moment with a little humor, and reached out to take Viggo’s hand as he came to stand beside me. The intensity of Thomas’ speech had hit me somewhere deep—I’d had no idea that he had any thoughts, inspirational or otherwise, about Viggo’s and my romance. I guessed he kept them quiet, but I was so grateful to him for sharing them with us now… and if Ms. Dale hadn’t been talking about crying, I definitely would have.

Viggo turned me around in his arms and tugged me close to his chest, touching my cheek and gazing down at me, and I could see in his eyes that he had been moved by the speech as well. The music clicked back on as the party resumed, but he only had eyes for me.

“So our options are presents or dancing,” he announced softly. “Or… we sneak out and let them continue the party,” he whispered, and I grinned.

“Yes… I like that last one.”





21





Violet





We were halfway down the hall, hands laced together, a giggle at the back of my throat sometimes slipping out—when Ms. Dale’s voice brought Viggo and me to a screeching halt. With the nervous tremor of a child getting caught doing something wrong, I turned and saw her, one foot on the stairs with a hand up, something shiny dangling from her fingers.

“We, uh, secured you one of the rooms in the teacher’s hall,” she said, a knowing smile playing on her lips. “Figured you’d want some privacy.”

I blushed beet red, and Viggo stepped around me, hiding me from view as Ms. Dale tossed the keychain at him. The keys jingled as he caught them.