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Gabriel arrives the same time my drink does, and I take a large gulp signaling for another.
“Jesus, it can’t be that bad,” Gabe says, filling the lounge chair next to me.
“Yeah, it can,” I growl, slamming back the remainder of my drink. Not even the top-notch liquor numbs the pain in my chest. Flashes of both their faces continue to resonate in the front of my mind. The moment we were exposed the consequences were unavoidable. In a matter of seconds, I lost them both. The two most important girls in my life both hate me. They fucking should. Why the fuck did I let Violet walk out that door? I should have gone after her. But I couldn’t abandon my distraught daughter. I had to make it right with her first.
Too bad that turned out to be a waste of time. She didn’t want to hear anything I had to say. Like the bastard I am, I turned it around on her. Why the fuck was she home anyway? Her wishy-washy excuse didn’t add up, and I took out my anger on how I handled things with Violet on her. We fought, she said some hateful things, and I left.
“Why the fuck was she even home? I told her I wasn’t going to be there.” Gabe isn’t helpful. He doesn’t say a fucking peep. “She called me a fucking predator. Can you believe that shit?”
Gabe laughs. “That’s interesting.”
“It’s fucked up. I’m not a predator. Violet’s of age. Dammit! I wouldn’t have touched her if she was underage.”
“Would you have, though?”
“Fuck you,” I growl. “I have some sick tastes, but I would never touch a minor.” She may be young, but she’s more a woman than half the women I’ve ever had in my bed. She’s willing, yet defiant. Funny and easy-going, yet skilled and fearless.
“So, why are you sitting here sulking with me? Why don’t you go talk to her?”
“Because I don’t know if that’s right. I fucking said some messed up shit to her. I hurt her. And when Hazel caught us, I did nothing to defend us. It was my chance to do right by her, and I just fucking stood there.”
“Ouch.”
I glare at him, hoping he feels the daggers. “Seriously? You’re supposed to be helping me.”
“What would you like me to do? Call over that candy blonde and have her suck you off?” He starts to wave at a girl, and I slap his hand down.
“For Christ’s sake, no. But some goddamn—”
“Excuse me, miss, you can’t be back here!” Clara calls out to a girl running toward us.
“Hazel? What the fuck!”
“Dad, I need to talk to you.”
“How the fuck did you get in here?” It’s an exclusive gentlemen’s club for a fucking reason. Her eyes dart from Gabe back to me.
“Listen, something’s happened. I didn’t answer, but I should have. I was so mad—I’m still so mad—so I wasn’t picking up her calls.”
“Whose calls?” Her panicked tone has me up and alert. “Whose calls, Hazel?”
“Violet’s. She kept calling and calling, and I kept silencing her. But the last one…” She chokes on her own words. “Shit, Daddy. If I had just answered!”
I grab at her, giving her a gentle shake. “Fucking spit it out.”
“Her last message… she left a super long voicemail. I wasn’t going to listen to it, …” Her eyes start to well with tears, and my stomach bottoms out. “ It was her and Jim. They were arguing. She was in his car, and he was going on about some crazy shit. He wouldn’t stop. She kept yelling at him to slow down, then—” She stops, and I shake her. “Her screams…I think they…I think they got into an accident. The voicemail hit the max time limit, and I don’t know! I tried calling her back, but nothing.” Hazel falls apart in my arms. I can’t seem to process the information she just threw at me.
Violet.
Violet.
Violet.
“Gabe, take Hazel. Get her the fuck out of here. Take her home.”
Gabe is up, no questions asked, wrapping Hazel in his arms. I’m out the door and in my car, blowing all sorts of traffic violations. I call Violet’s cell, but it goes to voicemail. I call the dorm room, but no one picks up. The last call I make… I pray to every higher power out there they don’t have anyone by the name of Violet admitted. My hope is sliced in two when they confirm they do.
The drive feels like an eternity. I can’t get to her fast enough. When I race through the emergency room doors, I almost take out a nurse, demanding to see her. “I’m sorry, what’s your relation?” she asks, blocking me.
“I’m… her father.” Fuck, I’m going to hell, but I need to see her. They take me back, and my chest constricts. Her head is wrapped in a bandage, and so are her arm and leg. The doctor comes in telling me she has a concussion, a sprained wrist, fractured ankle, and a few broken ribs, but is lucky to be alive. He informs me the driver was pronounced dead at arrival.
