Page 4 of What’s Left of Us

“Hi Violet,” he whispers. His voice is low and soft, but so much deeper than I remember. Goosebumps line my arms, and I grit my teeth. Stupid hormones. Don’t they remember what he did?

I lift my chin, eyes locked in front of me. The event planner sends the first couple down the aisle.

“I like the blue hair. It’s cool.”

She sends the second couple.

“Go to Hell, Atlas.”

He sighs, so softly I barely hear it. He offers his arm and I roughly take it. It’s our turn to walk down the aisle, but I promise myself, this is the last time I’ll ever touch Atlas Blake.

Chapter 2

now

After the ceremony, and once Phoebe and her new husband return to the reception, we’re corralled into the dining area. There’s a place for me at the elongated wedding party table, but he’s there, and so I’m not. Instead, I’m at Mom’s table in a chair I pulled from the bar. I can tell she’s annoyed, but she’s not going to say anything in front of other people.

“How are the boys?” She’s asking the woman to her right. Jennifer Voss. The overzealous mother of identical twins, Isaac and Mitch. They were the smartest kids in my grade, and back before everything went to shit, we shared most of our advanced classes. Jennifer used to lament the fact I didn’t want to date either of her sons.

“Oh they’re great. Both at the University of Montana, which is nice. Not too far. Isaac has a girlfriend, and he’s already talking about moving in with her. Who knows if that’ll happen. Mitch is single, but it’s only a matter of time before we’re having a couple weddings ourselves.”

“Hear that, Violet?” Mom gives me a teasing look that makes me want to crawl under the table. “You and Mitch always got along. Maybe you should reach out⁠—”

“I’m going to get a drink,” I interrupt. I slide out of my chair before Mom can protest, but not before Jennifer replies, oh I think he enjoys being single. I don’t think he’s looking right now.

I swallow as I cross the room. I wonder if Mitch actually enjoys being single, or if Jennifer is worried I’ll corrupt her son. That we’ll date for a few months and then I’ll go off the deep end, just like Nat. Drag him down right alongside me.

I sift through the bottles of wine, all laid out in buckets of ice. I’m not fancy enough to know the difference between the names and labels, so I snatch an open bottle of white and pour a hefty glass.

“Thanks for coming, Violet.”

I startle, turning to face the blushing bride. She does look beautiful. When we were younger, she looked similar to Atlas. They both share the same dark hair and flawless smiles. Only their eyes are different. Hers a lovely shade of brown, his a vibrant green. Now that they’re older, their differences are more obvious. Where she has softened into lovely curves, he has hardened into sharp muscles.

Not that I noticed.

“Oh, um, yeah. Congratulations on getting married.” And then, because I feel like I should, I add, “Sorry my hair is blue.”

“Don’t be.” She grins at me and leans in conspiratorially. “It reminds me of Nat. I like it.”

For the first time since I arrived, my smile is genuine. When most people discuss my older sister, it’s almost always in a negative light. A cautionary tale. A be careful or this could happen to you too.

Phoebe and Nat drifted apart in the year before my sister disappeared. One found her place amongst the drama kids. The other amongst the partiers. Sometimes, I wonder what would have happened if Nat had gotten a part in their freshmen theater production. If she’d landed a role like Phoebe, would she still be here? Would it have made a difference?

“Sorry about Atlas, by the way. I thought it’d be cute to see you guys walk together. For old times’ sake.”

“It’s okay,” I say, even though it isn’t. Not really.

“Anyway, I better go mingle and what-not.” She gives me a quick hug, pulling away before I can decide whether to hug her back. “I’m really glad you were part of this.”

And then she’s gone, weaving between the tables, stopping to chat with my mother. I’m not sure if Phoebe notices, but there’s blatant pain in my mom’s eyes. Nat should be here. She would be, if it weren’t for⁠—

“Having fun?”

My shoulders tighten. I turn back to the bar and add more wine to my already full glass. I don’t stop pouring until it starts to overflow. It’s honestly kind of funny. If Hayden was here, she’d bust up laughing. She’s not here though, and I won’t even see her for two more weeks.

I turn back to face the tables, spilling another splash of wine on the bar. I take a long sip and do my best to ignore the man beside me. And he is a man now, not the gangling teenager I left behind. His voice is deep, warm and rumbling, so lovely it hurts my chest.

I’m not surprised he exceeded even the greatest of my teenage fantasies. Dark hair styled in a way that suits him. Green eyes so bright they look fake. High cheekbones. Sharp jaw. A tiny scar through his right eyebrow.