Mr. McNamara raised his head. “That’s enough, now, Miller…”
“Yeah, it is,” I said, suddenly tired. Adrenaline had run its course and now my watch alarm began to beep. The outburst and turmoil had drained me. I turned and looked to Violet, tears streaming. My own vision blurred. “It’s enough, and it’s too late.”
I walked out of the kitchen. Mrs. McNamara started to shout, but her husband hissed at her to be quiet. Violet’s soft footsteps padded after me upstairs.
In her room, I packed up my guitar in its case and started back out the door. “Miller, wait,” she said tearfully. “Where are you going?”
“Leaving. Out the front door.”
“You can’t just go. Not now.”
I stopped at her bedroom door. “I’m sorry I kissed you, Violet. It won’t happen again,” I said and then I left. Left without one more word or thought for the anguish on the face I loved so much, wondering if it’d been the same for my dad.
Just like tearing off a Band-Aid.
Chapter Eleven
Homecoming, senior year: a day of epic fails and poor choices.
Against all better judgement, I went to the football game with Shiloh and watched the Central High Capitals defeat the Soquel Saints 42-16. A gimme game against a lower division designed to make our guys look good. And River, of course, played hero and passed for four touchdowns.
The parade came after. River, still in his game uniform, sat beside Violet above the back seat of a convertible. She was stunning in black velvet, a sparkling tiara on her head and a sash across her dress. She and River smiled and waved at the crowd. They smiled at each other. She looked happy. Radiant, even.
I felt Shiloh’s eyes on me. “Why do you do this to yourself?”
“Sorry?”
“Watch her be with someone else.”
It should’ve shocked me that Shiloh could read me like that, but then she’d always had an instinct about people and a zero-bullshit policy. I admired that about her, probably because I wallowed in my own bullshit on the regular. I’d walked out of Violet’s room the other night pretending I’d succeeded in letting her go. What a fucking crock. All it took was one sense memory of her lips on mine, our tongues exploring and our hands touching in ways that defied friendship, and I was hopelessly sucked back into miserable want for her.
“I need proof that she’s okay with him. That he’ll take care of her, or I’ll sic Ronan on him.”
Shiloh shrugged. “River’s unproblematic. At least there’s that.”
Fuck River, I thought with stupid, possessive pride, knowing that I’d been Violet’s first kiss.
And she was mine. Because there could be no one else.
“Speaking of River, did Vi mention that she and I kissed?”
Shiloh’s head swiveled to me, braids cascading down her billowy shirt. She tried to corral her shock, but it was too late.
Pain slugged me in the chest. I faced forward. “I’ll take that as a no.”
“I haven’t seen her much lately. But no, she didn’t say a word.” She nudged my arm. “I’m sorry. I always knew something was going on there.”
“Don’t be sorry. Just confirms everything she’s been telling me for years.”
That our kiss hadn’t been worth a mention to her best girlfriend. It wasn’t still lingering on her lips like it was on mine. It hadn’t completely shocked and upheaved her life the way it had mine, throwing the depth of my love for her—and my fears with it—in my face. I’d easily faded from her senses; yet, I could still taste her.
“Is that why you asked Amber to the dance?” Shiloh asked. “To get over her for real?”
To protect myself…
“I have to try. Maybe something could happen with Amber. Maybe if I gave her a chance, I could move on and be the friend Violet wants me to be.”
“Uh huh. Amber is a friend of mine.” Shiloh pierced me with her strong, dark-eyed gaze. “A real flesh-and-blood human. Not a blowup doll to take your frustrations out on.”