Me: Know, man. I know. No chance this isn’t related.Royce: She get a look?Me: Don’t think so. But she got something. Could tell from her expression. I will find out.I sent another text right behind it.
Me: Daisy?Royce and Emily had taken Daisy back to our parents’ house to sleep. Where we knew she would be safe.
Royce: Currently snuggled up next to Emily in her bed, asleep. Fucking cute.I almost smiled. Could feel Royce’s affection through the miles. Guy wearing this shield of menace that hid the biggest, bleeding heart.
Me: And you got relegated to the chair. Poor bastard.Royce: Not like I’m sleeping anyway.I blew out a sigh of relief. Knowing Royce had this. That he would have our backs just as much as I’d always have his.
Me: Thanks, man. I owe you.Royce: Nah. Family. It’s what we do. But you know this is messy? Don’t pretend like this complication isn’t going to come back to bite you in the ass.I looked at Violet’s sleeping form.
My chest tightened.
Need.
Hope.
Desperation.
Light.
She was no complication. She was the incentive. The purpose. My heart’s single goal.It was close to morning by the time they discharged Violet after she’d given her statement to the police.
My tongue burned with the urge to give mine. To lay it out. But it wasn’t time. Couldn’t do it until I saw this through to its completion.
With my arm curled around Violet’s waist to support her, the three of us stepped out of the sliding doors and into the witching hour. Night so still and deep you could imagine you were slipping into another realm. A time and a place where ghosts and spirits roamed.
Violet didn’t even fight me on it. She just leaned into my hold, limping out into the parking lot, making my heart roll and boom and thunder.
Emily had driven Mr. Marin’s car home since he had a car seat, so I clicked the locks to my truck, and I helped Violet climb into the front passenger seat.
Her spirit was all around.
Subdued.
Dampened in its uncertainty.
Wary and waiting for what was to come.
We both knew it.
Felt it.
The storm that gathered on the horizon like the sun gathering for the day. Building in energy. In intensity.
Eyes on the girl, hers on me, I reclined her seat a bit and leaned over her so I could buckle her in.
“I’ve got you,” I murmured as I adjusted the belt and then clicked it into the lock, my face an inch from hers when I angled back, voice gruff, “I’ve got you.”
“Richard,” she whispered. Needy and low.
I cupped one side of her precious face, my thumb tracing the angle, my soul shouting for its reclaim. “Rest.”
Her teeth clamped down on her bottom lip, and she gave a tiny nod. I stepped back and shut the door.
Mr. Marin got into the back seat.
Almost immediately, Violet fell back asleep as I headed in the direction of their house.
Her sweet spirit filled the cab.
Intoxicating.
Fascinating.
Entrancing me in a dream that this girl could be mine.
Really mine.
That I wouldn’t have to let her go.
That there was a chance she might not hate me when it was revealed.
Stupid, blind hope.
But that’s what it was.
This blinding, obliterating hope burning in me that one day—one day she would look at me and actually see the man I’d wanted to be for her. The husband I’d wanted to be. This girl the treasure.
The goddess.
And I’d be the one worshipping at her feet.
I kept glancing over at her, making sure she was fine, and I kept catching her father staring at me through the rearview mirror. The man unsure. As confused as me. Horrified by what had happened and willing to do anything to keep her safe. Not sure if that was with me or without me.
By the time we were making the final curve along the two-lane road approaching their house, a tinge of gray was striking at the edge of the sky.
It felt like wishing on a new day.
Like maybe there could be a chance that something better could come this way.
My truck bounced as I took the dirt lane and came to a stop in front of their house. I turned off the ignition, looked at the girl, my whole being overtaken.
Every cell compressed.
Filled with this devotion that made it impossible to breathe.
I climbed out and moved around to the passenger door. Mr. Marin warred, torn between stepping in to shield her from me and fully giving me that trust.
“I have her,” I said, the words barely breaking the atmosphere.
Still, they sounded of a proclamation.
Truth.
Swallowing hard, he gave a tight nod before he slowly ambled up the porch steps to unlock the door. Knew he wanted to get to his wife, to check on her, even though he’d texted with her a few times through the night to update her, and each time, she had assured him that she was okay.