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Joel flips him off playfully.
Kit returns the gesture.
My shoulders relax as I sigh. Shit is still fucked up with Violet, but this is getting back to normal.
The band really is going to be okay.
"The woman spent the last week with the three of us on a tiny bus because she wants to be with you. She gave up her break to be with you," Joel says. "Back when you two were together, she was always around. She didn't miss a single fucking show. Not one."
He's right. Fuck… I've been making Violet a priority, but only when it works for me. Chose music over her the first time we broke up.
Did it again today.
I get that she doesn't want to feel like one of Mal's fuck buddies, like I expect her to say how high when I ask her to jump.
"What the fuck are you doing to be with her?" he asks.
Nothing. Fuck. "She's taking a job in Orange County."
Joel throws his arms into the air in a damn, this man is helpless gesture.
"She's meeting you halfway," Kit says. "You need to do the same. You need to prove you'll make her a priority."
He's right.
They're all right.
Violet's always been there for me. Always.
If I really want her to be mine forever, I have to prove I can do the same.
The how is the tricky part.
But— "I have an idea. I'll nee
d your help. All three of you."
In unison, the three of them say, "I'm in."
Sometimes, it's not so bad having three older brothers.
Chapter 37
Violet
The next day, Saturday, is miserable. Athena checks up on me every five to fifteen minutes. It's sweet that she's concerned, but mostly I want to curl up into a ball and disappear until this hurts a little less.
Thankfully, she has a meeting for her group project on Sunday. I get the apartment to myself and I use the time to chain drink homemade matcha lattes while binge-watching Battlestar Galactica. This must be the tenth time I've seen the show, but it's as good as the first. There's something about the distrust and the suspicion and the way traitors backstab the people they've been pretending to love and support for years.
It would be easier if Ethan really had stabbed me in the back, but he didn't. He can't help how he feels. He can't help that music matters more to him than I do.
He can't help that he's unwilling to put me first.
The heart wants what it wants.
I know that, because my heart has wanted Ethan since the day he tried to teach me how to play I'm Only Happy When It Rains on his prized Les Paul guitar. He never lets anyone else touch that guitar. Only me.
He was patient with me that day. No matter how many times I missed the same notes, no matter how horribly I failed to get my fingers to form chords, no matter how many times I let the guitar pick slip from my fingers, he started at the beginning.
