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Violet just nodded as the two of them hobbled in front of him. Dean didn’t try to interfere, except to reach past them to get the door.
They didn’t even try to go up the stairs to Daisy’s room, and Violet instead led her into her bedroom. Dean stood in the doorway as she pulled back the covers and had Daisy sit down on the bed. She took off one shoe at a time, undressing her the way you would a sleepy toddler, and a rush of warmth spread through him. How could she possibly think she wasn’t meant to be a mom?
When Violet finally got Daisy situated, she walked softly across the room to where Dean stood and silently slipped her arms around him, leaning her good cheek against his chest.
He didn’t ask if she was okay again, just held her in his arms and kissed the top of her head as they stood in the shadows.
“I could have lost her tonight,” Violet whispered.
“But you didn’t. You were there for her.”
“I knew he was bad news, though, and still I did nothing. I didn’t press her to end it or—”
“Hey, come on.
She wised up and broke it off, but if you hadn’t let her realize on her own that he was wrong for her, it might have pushed her to him.”
“Sounds like you have experience with that,” she murmured.
“I have younger sisters, and I’ve hated all of their boyfriends, except for Dotty’s husband, but he’s barely tolerable.” He’d been trying to make a joke, but she didn’t laugh. “The minute I said something, it was like they couldn’t get enough of the douche bag.”
“How did your sister get the name Dotty, anyway?”
“It was short for Doris.”
“Oh, God, poor thing. Why would your mother do that?” she asked.
“She named us after the stars of some of her favorite movies. Mom used to sneak off to this theater in Queens that played all these old movies from the fifties and sixties. It was her favorite pastime before she married my dad. So I was Dean, for Dean Martin; Freddy was for Fred Astaire; Dotty for Doris Day; Audrey for Audrey Hepburn; Natalie for Natalie Wood; and James for James Dean.”
Violet laughed, her breath puffing against his chest warmly. “What did your dad say?”
“Not much. I think he’d have named us all Hairball if it would have made her happy.”
“You’re lucky. My father was a jerk, even before my mom died. Before the drugs got really bad. My mother used to cry a lot, and when I asked what was wrong, she would always tell me it was nothing.”
Dean led her over to the couch and pulled her up against his side as they sat.
“She never talked about it, never yelled back or stood up for herself. She’d just cry.” She sat up and wiped at her wet cheeks with a laugh. “I hate crying, but I’m just like her. Any little thing and I turn into a water fountain.”
“There is nothing wrong with crying. Everybody does it,” he said.
“Really? Even you, Mr. Tough Guy?”
Dean swallowed, stroking his hand over her cheek. “I’m not so tough.”
Violet covered his hand on her face. “Why do you say that? You are so brave.”
Dean shook his head. “You are brave. Running out there and tackling that guy . . . ” He kissed her forehead and gave her what he hoped was a fierce look. “Don’t ever do that again, by the way. It took ten years off my life seeing that guy winding up to hit you.”
“I had to. She’s my sister. You can’t tell me that if one of your brothers in arms was in trouble, you wouldn’t do everything you could to save him.”
Dean shook his head grimly. “I can tell you for a fact that I didn’t.”
Violet turned her head and kissed his palm. “You can tell me, if you want. If you think it would help.”
Dean laughed bitterly. “I don’t know if it will help, but you should know who you’re getting.” What a week for him. Telling Rita about his nightmares, and now he was about to tell Violet about that day. Would she look at him differently? Rita had said that he was in shock, that what had happened wasn’t his fault, but he still wasn’t sure. But he trusted Violet. And if he wanted to get closer to her, he was going to have to share the hardest parts of himself.
“The day my unit was killed, I cried. We were just doing a basic patrol of the area, and it was hot. So hot. And the sun was fucking blinding. I was covering the rear. Suddenly, Kent, who was on point, starts shouting about a kid. That there was a kid with a bomb.”
