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∞∞∞
A knock at the door interrupted my doom spiral, causing my heart rate to spike. I’d never been this jumpy in my life. “Come in,” I managed to say, my nerves on edge.
As the door swung open, a short, round woman with questionable fashion choices stepped into the room. Unless my mind had completely abandoned ship by this point, Gray’s doctor was a man. Oh God, was this woman with the scary sympathetic expression a grief counselor, here to assure me everything would be alright?
“You’re Mr. Ray?” she inquired with a thick Southern accent.
“Uh yeah,” I responded, my apprehension mounting.
“I understand you’re Grayson Scott’s next of kin?”
“Uh, yeah?”
“Violet has asked if you’d allow her to wait in here with you,” she informed me, gesturing toward the partially open blinds.
A quick glance in the hallway revealed a stunning, petite woman with black curly hair, her shoulders evidently tense as she paced back and forth. Watching her, I couldn’t help but feel a surge of jealousy. So this was Gray’s… what? Girlfriend? Fiancee? The thought left a bitter taste in my mouth. And now she wanted to share this space with me to wait for news about our mutual partner.
Did Gray share details about me with her? God, she probably harbored as much hatred towards me as I did towards her.
“Ah, you say that like I should know who she is,” I replied to the woman.
“Oh, well she made it sound as if she knew exactly who you are.”
28. “Ashes”
Colton
“My apologies sir,” the woman began. “From the way Violet spoke, I assumed you were already acquainted. I suppose I should properly introduce myself. I’m Lydia, one of the hospital’s social workers. Mr. Scott is Violet’s guardian. Since you are his next of kin, in situations like this, you would usually assume responsibility for her until he is able,” Lydia explained, her expression apologetic. ”If that’s not something you’re comfortable with, we are happy to take her back to the social worker’s offices on the first floor?”
Her words sunk in slowly. Gray had a kid? Wait. My eyes darted back towards the window, and with a second glance I realized my error. As Violet turned and continued her restless pacing, I took in my first proper look at her face. She was definitely tall for her age, but her rounded, youthful features made it clear she couldn’t be any older than about thirteen.
My relief that Gray didn’t have a girlfriend hanging around was short-lived, replaced by confusion as I ran the numbers in my head. Unless Gray had omitted some crucial details, Violet couldn’t possibly be his daughter. Actually, that should have been glaringly obvious, I mentally chided myself. If Gray were her dad, Lydia would have said as much, instead of referring to him as her guardian. So, how the fuck did Gray end up taking in a preteen?
Bile rose in my throat at the thought Gray might be this girl’s stepfather. If he was playing happy family with someone else but hadn’t bothered to divorce me, I would cut off his balls. He better not have dragged some poor innocent kid and her mom into our mess.
Then I processed the other bit of information this woman whose name I couldn’t remember had dropped. Violet had spoken like she knew who I was? It’s possible she’d lied in the hopes of meeting a celebrity, but the circumstances suggested otherwise. At the very least, she might be able to give me more information than I’d learn from sitting alone in this vacant room.
“Oh, yes,” I mumbled, mustering a strained smile. “My husband and I are separated, so it’s been a while since I’ve seen Gray. Violet is welcome to wait with me.”
With a nod, Lydia exited and ushered Violet in after her. As she timidly crossed the threshold, I observed her closely. Her demeanor closely resembled mine, as if her entire world had tilted on its axis, leaving her unsure which way was up. Her black hair fell in braids to the middle of her back, and her thin arms hugged her chest, hands gripping opposite elbows as if she were trying to hold herself together. Afraid she might shatter if she let go.
It was a move I recognized all too well.
The way her reddened eyes widened comically, told me she recognized me all too well but was desperately trying to contain her fangirl urges.
“Shit, it really is you,” she exhaled, her voice soft yet eerily reminiscent of Gray’s. “I thought the nurses were pulling some sick joke on me when they said Colton Ray was Gray’s emergency contact.” Then, almost under her breath, she muttered, “Certainly explains a lot though.”
Explained what, exactly?
“Yeah it’s been a while since we last spoke,” I admitted, rubbing the back of my neck awkwardly. “I’m just as surprised as you are, to be honest.” Conversing with your estranged husband’s new step kid, who may or may not be aware of your history, unfortunately didn’t come with a handbook.
As soon as I spoke, her facade cracked, and a tiny squeal slipped past her lips as she started bouncing on the balls of her feet. Her futile efforts to contain her excitement unveiled just how innocent the young girl beneath the composed exterior was, and I couldn’t resist the smile that pulled at the corners of my mouth—the first genuine one since I had stepped off stage last night.
Unexpectedly, I found myself engulfed by a protective instinct toward this girl, a strong desire to shield her from the harsh realities that awaited her.
“So, how do you know my brother?” she asked.
Come again?
