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“I already told you, Vi, I’m not coming home.” I hear Ant say just as I pass by the bathroom door seconds after putting Jack to bed.
Slowing to a stop, I lean closer to the door, knowing I shouldn’t eavesdrop on his private conversation but also unable to stop myself either.
“No, fuck that. You of all people should understand why.”
There’s a long pause, presumably where his sister is replying.
“I don’t give a shit. She made her choice. I’m done.” I can tell by the tone of Ant’s voice that he’s starting to lose his temper. “No. Damn it, Vi, do you hear yourself? You know what he put me through.”
Another long pause.
“Then let him die with the regret because I’ll be damned if I’ll do anything to ease his guilt.” I hear the bathroom cabinet slam shut and Ant growl in frustration. “This conversation is over, Vi. I’m not doing this with you right now. I have to go.”
I jump when the door swings open and a shirtless Ant is standing directly in front of me, eyes dark and nostrils flaring. His gaze centers in on me, and there’s no use even denying what I was doing; I’m sure it’s written all over my face.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…” I don’t get the rest of my sentence out before Ant is pulling me into his arms, squeezing me so tightly it’s like I’m the only thing tethering him to this earth.
“Just be quiet for a second.” He drops his chin to the top of my head, and we stand like that for several long moments—his arms around my shoulders, mine around his waist as I try unsuccessfully to ignore the feeling of his bare muscles beneath my cheek or what that does to me.
When he finally pulls back and looks down at me, eyes conflicted, expression defeated, it takes everything I have not to push up on my tiptoes and kiss him. The thought comes out of nowhere but once it crosses my mind, I can’t seem to shake it away.
“Is everything okay?” I finally force myself to ask, needing to break the moment.
“Define okay?” He lets out a slow breath.
“Your sister?” I ask, even though I already know that’s who he was talking to. Unless he knows another Violet, Vi for short, which I highly doubt.
“I swear sometimes she just doesn’t know when to stop.” He shakes his head.
“Wanna talk about it?” I offer.
He thinks on that for a moment, indecision clear in his eyes, before he steps past me into the living room, claiming the seat on the far end of the couch. He leans forward, elbows on his knees, and drops his head into his hands, letting out a frustrated groan before finally looking up to where I’ve taken a seat on the edge of the coffee table directly in front of him.
“She wants me to come home,” he starts, running a hand through his hair as he straightens his posture.
“She’s your sister; of course she wants you home,” I offer, not really sure what else to say.
“She wants me to come home forhim.” The word drips with disdain.
“You mean your father?” I ask, careful not to say anything that would give away the fact that I know about the fight that landed him in California to begin with.
“God, he doesn’t even deserve that fucking title,” he groans.
“Why would she want you to come home for your father?” I ask, still unable to piece together exactly what’s happening.
“Because he’s dying.” He finally meets my gaze, and the mix of emotions I see behind those gray eyes would bring me to my knees if I were standing.
“What?” The word falls from my mouth laced with an apology.
“Apparently the asshole finally did his liver in.”
“What do you mean?”
“He’s in liver failure. Guess he’s pretty bad off.” He shrugs indifferently.
“Oh my God, Ant. I’m so sorry,” I start, but he quickly cuts me off.
“Don’t be. He fucking deserves it,” he grinds out.
