Two hours later, the cop cars come screaming into our driveway. I’m arrested on the spot.
SIX MONTHS LATER
1
VIOLET
A widely known fact about me: I don’t like surprises. I’m jumpy. I make unholy noises. My face gets beet red, and my body gets hot and tingly, and sometimes I feel like I’ve run out of air. Unfortunately, that combination is the perfect reaction for people who do like surprises.
Which is why I’ve spent my life being surprised. Birthday parties, jump-scares, visitors I wasn’t expecting… People love to see the dramatic reaction, and I seem unable to help but give it to them.
And, na?ve me, I keep expecting people will remember I loathe them.
Not today.
I’ve barely pushed open the apartment door when the lights come on and a dozen people scream, “WELCOME BACK!”
I scream right along with them. My coffee goes everywhere, and my feet go out from under me. Only quick hands grasping my arms keeps me upright.
And falling would probably suck a lot under my conditions.
After my heart stops trying to escape from my tight chest, I find my darling roommate-slash-best friend at the center of the group, grinning wickedly. Willow knows my feelings on surprises and gleefully continues. I shake my head at her and laugh. If she had such reactions to surprises, I’d spring them on her, too.
With a wide smile, I glance around the room. Familiar faces that I’ve missed in the last six months fill the space. If anyone was here to surprise me, I’d want it to be them. Willow knows. Sometimes she knows what I want before I do.
I finally realize that someone is still holding my arms. I look over my shoulder, already sheepish, and meet Jack’s gaze. It takes me a second to register that it’s actually him, and my stomach knots.
“You okay, Violet?” His lips twist, him trying not to laugh at me. His eyes still crinkle, though. And damn, does he look as good as I remember.
I stabilize my feet under me before gently pulling away. “I’m good. Thanks.”
Not good. Not by a long shot. But I’m definitely not going to be spilling my heart out to my ex-boyfriend. Guess I forgot to mention that to Willow…
“I’m surprised you’re here,” I say.
He shifts and rubs the back of his neck. It’s his turn to be sheepish. We met here, at Crown Point University, our freshman year, and it was lust at first sight. I was on the dance team, and he was a football player. We would perform during half-time, and it didn’t take long for us to notice each other.
And why wouldn’t I have noticed him? He’s gorgeous. Wavy dark hair that he keeps a little longer than most guys, warm honey eyes. A square jaw, strong nose. He towers over me, too. People always said we looked good together.
We were opposites in appearance. He has the muscle mass, and I’m lean. The classic blonde hair and blue eye combination my mother always made a fuss about. Maybe that’s why my skin crawled every time someone commented on how attractive a couple we were. It was more a reflection on me than us.
He lifts his hand and moves my hair off my forehead. The gesture is intimate, but I’m too stunned to stop him. He brushes his thumb over the scar on my temple. “I was worried about you. You wouldn’t let me see you in the hospital. Or after?”
A sigh escapes before I can school my features into something a little more… regretful. “Well, I was embarrassed.”
That’s a lie. I just didn’t want to face whatever the fuck emotional roller coaster I was riding the last six months. Seriously. My life went from normal to shit in a split second. Adding Jack—and the life that I thought I had, the one that seemed to go up in a puff of smoke when I woke up in the hospital—would’ve been more pain than I was ready to accept.
“Violet!”
I step away from Jack, ignoring his wounded expression, and turn to my other friends. Half the dance team is here, and they all crowd around me. Someone pulls at my coffee-stained blouse, and another swoops in to clean the floor where my cup dropped. I had forgotten, in my Jack-shock.
“Lucky it wasn’t hot.” Willow nudges me.
“Luck and I aren’t on speaking terms.”
She visited faithfully every day while I was stuck in the hospital. Kept me sane, kept me looped in to the gossip. She’s the only one who knows what I went through, and I’m keeping it that way. I’m not in the habit of airing my dirty laundry—or my newfound nightmares. I’ve been plagued by bright lights, crunching metal, and snapping bones.
She rolls her eyes at my luck comment. “You need to change. We’re taking you out.”
Oh boy. My first instinct is to say no, but honestly? I could use a bit of normalcy. My therapist—the talk one, not the physical one—said something about getting back into a routine. Well, for the last two years, I’ve gone out with my girls on Friday nights. There’s nothing more normal than that.
I’m actually looking forward to it.
She leads the way to the bedroom I haven’t been in since… before. She steps aside and lets me do the honors. Opening the door is like cracking into a time capsule.
Fucking devastating.
Willow stands behind me, her hand on my shoulder, as I stare around at the remnants of the person I used to be. If I wasn’t aware of how different I was after six months away, I am now. Mentally, physically.
There are still clothes that I left on the floor. My chair is pulled out and covered in clothes. There’s a pile of books that I had planned to conquer over the summer in the center of the desk. My bed is made.
“I kept the door open sometimes,” Willow says. “Especially in the last week. So it shouldn’t smell too stale… Also, I changed your sheets. You’re welcome.”
I crack a smile. “Thanks.”
The luggage that I dragged inside earlier today is now at the foot of my bed—courtesy of Willow, I presume.
I step inside and go straight to the wall of pictures. Dance team competitions, selfies with my girls, photos of Jack and me at nearly every event you can think of—concerts and football games and the beach and house parties. Bonfires on the lake.
“You know I love surprises. So, thanks for that.”
Willow snorts. She and I met in high school, and we’ve been through thick and thin together. We’ve seen each other at our best… and worst. Evidently.
“The team wanted to be here when you got back.” She smirks. “Well, most of them.”
There are some girls on the dance team that Willow and I never vibed with. They’ve just got sticks up their asses, so why would we be friends with them? They only cared about chasing whatever team was doing well. Football, hockey, lacrosse.
Boring.
I go to my closet. “Jack and I broke up.”
“I know.”
“Of course you know,” I grumble. “You still invited him.” I yank it open and flip through clothes. I lost weight while I was away—but most of it was muscle mass. My body is soft where I used to be strong. Physical therapy helped, but not nearly enough. Not enough to give me back the muscles I had before.
“He begged. And he does look cute when he’s on his knees…”
I glare at her. “Seriously?”
She shrugs, still smiling. “I think he missed you. He made a point that you like to isolate when you stress, which is true. You can’t deny it. We’re just trying to prevent that from happening, is all.”