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“Come say hello,” Violet urged her.
She sounded different. Violet. Looked different too. She was still absolutely stunning, wearing a long, flowing dress, showing off sculpted arms and a natural glow that came from the happiness pouring out of her.
But she was a mother now. She was a wife. She lived in a picture-perfect home in the desert that she had designed. All before her twenty-fifth birthday.
What a way to make a girl feel inadequate.
Elden set Willow down on her feet, and though she had seemed hesitant with me initially, she obviously changed her mind, running over to us, beaming at me then all but launching herself into my arms.
I bent down to catch her.
Though she was small, she took my breath away.
She smelled of sweet and fruity shampoo, the leather from her father’s cut.
Blood. Vomit. My own urine. His putrid breath.
I fought against the memory trying to tarnish this moment, trying to wrench me back down a pit of despair.
“Now, how about we pop a bottle to celebrate you being back?” Violet clapped her hands.
I reluctantly let Willow go.
“Yeah, I’d be down with that.” I pasted on a fake smile.
Maybe the booze would chase the worst of the memories away.
Or maybe it, combined with the desert air, would ensure that I couldn’t escape them.
The wind was chilly, but the fire chased off the worst of the cold. The air smelled of smoke and the desert. The stars stretched out overhead and everything around us was … still. Empty. But in a good way. There were no monsters out there in the dark, waiting to strike.
“You have to stay here tonight, and maybe forever,” Violet’s hopeful voice broke the silence.
I glanced over at her. Motherhood suited my best friend. Everything about her was relaxed. Content.
You could feel it in the house... Love. It enveloped you the second you walked in the door. Photos covered all the surfaces, in tasteful frames. Plants were everywhere around the house. Every seating area looked comfortable, inviting. Willow’s toys were scattered around the place, tidily but communicating that a kid lived there and they weren’t hiding the slight chaos that brought.
It felt like a grown-up home. Which I guessed Violet was. She was married, a mother, had a great job and an outstanding home. She had roots.
It filled me with joy to see that for her.
And it highlighted just how much I’d let go of when I left. Even before the incident, I’d been so sure that I wanted a chaotic life. Wanted to travel. Be the life of the party all over the word. Be fucking fabulous, mysterious, never staying in one place for too long.
Now I ached for peace. For roots of my own.
“If I stay then he has to.” I nodded to where Colby and Elden were in the living room, the floor to ceiling windows giving us a perfect view of them sitting on the sofa, Willow asleep in her father’s arms. Colby looked relaxed too. Content. I hadn’t seen him like that in a while. I’d been the reason for his tension, for the tight posture, ready to spring into action, to chase me when I bolted.
Violet followed my gaze. “That’s fine, we have thick walls,” she smirked knowingly.
I couldn’t help but smile, couldn’t help but lapse into a fantasy where I was simply enjoying wine with my best friend while our men relaxed inside.
“I’ll stay tonight,” I conceded. “But I need to go back to my apartment tomorrow, begin to figure out the giant mess I’ve made of my life.”
“You haven’t made a mess of anything,” Violet snapped.
I gave her a pointed look. “Babe, I dropped out of college, disappeared for almost two years on something that could only be described as a bender, abandoned all of my friends and refused to deal with any of my feelings. You’re right, it’s not a mess, it’s a clusterfuck.”
Violet sipped her wine. “Considering what you’ve been through, I think it could’ve been much worse.”
“Ugh,” I groaned. “Can someone please be mad at me for my selfish actions? Everyone is being so goddamn understanding.”
Violet regarded me carefully. “Fine. I’m pissed at you for being gone so long. I’m mad at you for making me worry and missing out on time with Willow that she can never get back.” She folded her arms in front of her. “How’s that?”
“Okay,” I shrugged. “But you can’t pull off mean.”
She smiled. “You don’t deserve mean, babe. I think we can both agree you’ve had quite about enough of it.”
I looked down at my hands. Technically, she was right. But I was still desperate for someone to tell me off. To take off the fucking kid gloves and tell me to get my act together.
Maybe that person needed to be me.
“I’m glad you’re home,” Violet straightened, a smile splitting her mouth. “Please tell me it’s for good this time?”
