I practically float into my bed.
Chapter Eleven
Violet
Mal's on top of shit. Well, somebody, the tour manager I guess, is on top of shit. The hotel already has a room for me.
I'm running on three hours of sleep. Four, maybe. I need a bed. Then lunch and a shower. Then it's me and Mal's laptop until I clean up the books.
Ethan slides his arm around my waist and motions to the elevator bank.
Kit shoots me a concerned look. Mal smiles like he's pleased with himself. Joel watches with mild amusement.
We're entertainment for the three of them.
That's neat.
At the moment, I'm too tired to care. Or maybe I'm too high on the heat of Ethan's palm against my side.
I grab my rolling duffel bag—Ethan bought it for me because its purple color was labeled electric violet—by the handle and wheel it towards the elevator. Then I shoot Mal a mind your own business look.
He raises his eyebrows, incredulous.
He can play as incredulous as he wants. I know what it's like to look after your little brother.
I chew on my bottom lip. I can't go back to that. Not right now. I fight the desire that wells up on my chest. I want someone to understand, to hold me and tell me it's okay, that it wasn't my fault, that it will hurt less tomorrow, and even less the day after that. And, if I keep going, it will keep hurting a little bit less every day, and eventually it will be like an achy joint instead of a broken bone.
I want to believe that, but it's been two years now, and I still feel like the ground is crumbling every time I think about Asher.
We step into the elevator. Ethan pushes the button for my floor. He's smiling, his blue eyes bright. There's a real boyish charm to Ethan. Don't get me wrong—he's a man in every sense of the word. But he lights up like a little kid on Christmas morning when he's happy.
His smile is warm enough to melt glaciers.
Maybe even the one around my heart.
He was supposed to be that person—the one who held me and promised it would be okay.
But now…
I want him, I do, but I need to be careful. My heart won't survive another fracture.
Ding. The elevator doors slide open. I squeeze my suitcase handle and shove my free hand into my back pocket.
He presses his palm into my lower back and guides me to my room at the end of the hallway. I set my duffel bag down, take the key from him, and unlock the door.
I take a deep breath and look into Ethan's clear blue eyes. "Thanks. I, uh—"
"I'll let you get back to sleep." He smiles. "How about lunch?"
"I should work."
"We'll make it a late lunch. I know a place in the city that has fancy tea and food pairings. Drew's fiancée, Kara, she's into tea too. She loves it."
"Okay." I've seen Drew before and he's all kinds of hot (or maybe I have a thing for tattooed guitarists). The woman clearly has good taste.
Just like last night, Ethan moves closer. Then his lips are on mine. It's a quick second, but that's enough to set my body on fire.
"Sweet dreams, Vi."