My head lolls to the side, but my reactions are quick. I reach out and grab his throat, shoving him into the length of the hallway and an open-plan living room.
A hand grips my shoulder, and I shrug them off, my elbow connecting with soft tissue. The sound of a feminine “Oomph” followed by the sound of breaking glass has me swinging my head around and looking down. Violet is on the floor beside a broken, small glass-top hallway table. She has a dazed expression on her face, and it takes me a few seconds to snap out of my frozen state when I notice her split lip and traces of blood dripping from the side of her temple.
I release my hold from Christopher's throat, my stomach sinking as I rush towards her, sliding across the floor, glass scattering around us as I do.
“Shit, Violet, I’m so fucking sorry,” I choke out, reaching out, but she holds up a trembling hand, a silent warning for me to stay back.
I can hear the guy behind me coughing, followed by a child’s cry and the sound of a female’s voice asking if she should call the police.
“Shit, Tink, I’m so fucking sorry.”
There’s more commotion as two large bodies crowd the doorway and come rushing through the hallway.
I glance up to see Ethan and Henry standing over us.
“What the hell?” Ethan says, his eyes darting to Violet and back to me.
“Chris, should I call the police?” asks the female voice again, and I turn to see a young woman bouncing a little girl on her hip, rubbing her back in soothing motions.
“I’m sorry,” I say, but I don’t know who I’m apologising to. “Shit, I’m sorry,” I repeat.
Christopher clears his throat and shakes his head. “No, I think this is just a misunderstanding. And I’m sure it's Naomi’s doing,” he says, and I can’t ignore the venom in his tone at the mention of her name.
“Vi, are you okay?” Ethan is by her side, gripping her under her elbows and gently guiding her to her feet, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. She raises her fingers to her temple, touching the blood. She winces and her face pales.
I want to pull her into my arms, but I’m too scared to attempt to reach out again for fear of her pushing me away.
“Shit, Vi,” I repeat.
“I need to get out of here. I need some air,” she says, turning into Ethan’s chest. He looks between Henry and me. “Have you got this?” he asks.
Henry says he’ll handle it, and I watch on, feeling helpless yet high on adrenaline. Then, without another word, he leads Violet out of the house. I’m at war with myself, wanting to make sure she’s okay, but knowing I need to sort this out once and for all.
“Everyone just needs to calm down,” says Henry, the voice of reason. “I’m not sure what's going on, but we just got told Naomi is in hospital because of her husband,” he says, looking towards Christopher and the woman.
“Because of you,” I grit out, holding Christopher's stare.
He shakes his head, letting out a scoffing noise through his nose as he holds up his hands. “What the fuck? I never touched her,” he retorts.
“Oh, really?” I challenge, stepping forward when Henry’s hand lands on my shoulder.
“Yes, really, and I have proof.”
I look to Henry and then back to Christopher and raise my eyebrows.
“Mel, take Libby upstairs so I can show them, okay?”
She looks at Libby and then back to him. “Yeah, okay,” she says, but I don’t miss how she scowls at me when she passes, not that I can blame her.
“Listen, I’m not sure what’s going on, but Naomi is nothing but trouble,” he says, reaching for his laptop on the living room table. “And I can prove it.”
“Nathan, how about we take a look at your knees first,” Henry says, his eyes roaming down my legs.
“What?” I ask when I glance down and notice the blood seeping through my joggers. I slid on broken glass in my haste to get to Violet. The slight pain is only starting to register—too consumed with the adrenaline still pumping through my veins—but it’s nothing compared to the sharp pang in my chest over hurting Violet.
“No, I want to see this proof.” Besides, what’s a little pain? It’s less than I deserve.
ChapterForty-Three
