Loving Violet (Rockers' Legacy Book 4)

“I’m sorry,” I told him, lowering my gaze so I didn’t have to see how angry they were.

“A video call would have been just as effective as showing up in Alabama to talk to that boy,” Dad continued.

“I’m sorry,” I repeated.

“I don’t want to hear your apology!” Dad started pacing, his frustration filling the room with tension. “You’re grounded.” I nodded my understanding. “For a month. You go to school, you come home, you go straight to your room. No going to Shaw’s. No—”

“Okay,” I agreed before he’d even finished.

“Honey.” Mom’s soft voice made me flinch, but I couldn’t look at her. “I know what happened with Cannon has turned you upside down. I’m so sorry that happened. But you can’t do this kind of stuff to us. We love you so much. You and Mason are our whole world, and if something had happened to you…”

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying that!” Dad exploded.

“Okay,” I whispered.

Dad abruptly stopped pacing, and I could feel his eyes drilling into the top of my head. “Vi, did something happen?”

I slowly lifted my head. The inside of my bottom lip throbbed, and I could taste fresh blood, telling me I’d bitten into the already deep cut Cannon had caused without realizing it and reopened the wound. “I’m tired, Daddy. I really am sorry I worried you. It won’t happen again, I swear.”

“Did everything go okay with Luca?” Mom asked, her frown deepening. “Is he okay?”

“He was pissed, and I’m sure he would have killed Cannon if he were able.” I stood. “I need a shower and a few hours’ sleep before I have to go to school.”

“You can stay home if you don’t feel up to going,” Mom offered, but I shook my head.

“No. I’d rather go.” It would keep my mind off everything, and I wasn’t going to just hide at home. Hiding was the coward’s way out.

“Cannon won’t be there,” Dad informed me. “He’s already on his way to military school.”

“Okay.” I didn’t know what else to say. Other than that brief moment of regret I’d felt when I saw how upset I’d made Mom earlier, I’d gone back to feeling nothing again all at once.

I started toward the stairs, but Mom’s voice gave me pause. “Are you and Luca still together, Violet honey?”

“Goodnight,” I told her, unable to answer that particular question even though I knew the answer.

No. Luca and I were not still together. We would never be together again. There would be no moving with him when he got picked up in the draft. No playing out all those fantasies I’d made a mental list of once I turned eighteen. No asking me to marry him. No house of our own. No babies.

Luca and Violet Thornton was a silly, stupid dream I’d had my entire life.

A dream that had burned to ashes right in front of my eyes the moment I saw that mark on his neck. The man who was supposed to love me and only me, who was supposed to be my first everything, had given his firsts away like they meant nothing to him.

Like I meant nothing.

Upstairs, I took a long hot shower and then crawled into bed, but I didn’t sleep. Instead, I just lay there replaying the moment Megan Hawthorn blew my world apart. And Luca had given her the bomb to make it happen.

My alarm went off, and I got up to get ready for school. As I brushed my teeth, trying to be careful with my aching mouth, I realized I looked like a wraith. There were shadows under my eyes because I couldn’t remember when I’d slept last. It hadn’t been anytime that weekend, that was for sure. With my swollen, bruised mouth, I looked as if I’d been in a fight and lost.

I pulled up my hair into a tight ponytail and didn’t even bother with makeup. There wasn’t a concealer on the market that would hide my imperfections, and I was too numb even to care. Let the world see how not-okay I really was. Let them see and whisper about me like they always did. It would be entertaining for a hot minute, and then they would move on to the next piece of juicy gossip.

Once I was dressed in my school uniform, I grabbed my purse and phone and walked downstairs.

Mason was sitting at the island in the kitchen eating a bowl of cereal, while Mom and Dad stood by the coffeepot. Oscar bounced over to lick my hand when I walked in, then whined pitifully when I barely scratched his head.

“I’ll be driving you to school for the next month,” Dad informed me with that same angry bite to his voice.

“Okay.” I opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water.