Long Way Home

As if it’s natural, Violet lets her thigh rest against mine and her arm brushes along my skin. Electricity shoots through my veins, and as if she felt it, too, Violet snaps her head in my direction. Beautiful. She’s beautiful. Blazing red hair. Deep blue eyes. Color back in her cheeks.

Beautiful.

And I’m driven by need.

The impulse is to shove Stone out of the truck and tell him to go inside. Then I’ll pull Violet tight to me and kiss her until I forget who I am and she forgets who she is. Memories flash of her in this truck, of her in my arms, of the way her hot breath tickled my neck.

Yeah, I’ve thought of kissing Violet, but I haven’t felt these strong desires in a long time. It’s a heaviness in my belly. A fire in my blood. I shift, trying to readjust and relieve some of the pressure built up in areas below, but it doesn’t help. It’s going to be a damn long day.

“Violet thought she was driving us to school,” Brandon says.

“You did?” I glance at her out of the corner of my eye and she’s looking longingly at the parked Chevelle as if she’ll never see it again.

“I don’t need my left leg to drive.”

“No. Just to walk.”

She smirks like it’s painful to admit she thought I was funny.

“So.” She draws the word out as I pull out onto the road. Dust stays behind to be Violet’s mom’s tail for the day. “This is what that long look in the diner was about? I lost the tails, but I picked up you as my bodyguard?”

I scratch the back of my head. Violet’s watching me, but not with an I’m-going-to-kick-your-ass expression. That’s good, because even with one leg, she probably could. “I got you what you wanted.”

“Are you carrying?” she asks quietly.

“Do you really want the answer?”

“You hate carrying.”

Yeah, but I love her. Never stopped. Just tucked it away as deep as I could so I wouldn’t be in pain all the damn time.

Her head falls back to the seat. “Please be careful.”

“Always am.”

She rolls her eyes. I switch hands on the steering wheel and place my free hand on her knee. Violet rests her hand over mine. Together. This is how together feels and I missed it.

The ride to school ended too quickly, and I pull up next to Razor, who’s leaning against his parked bike. Stone opens his door, slides out and waits for Violet to move.

“Give us a few?” I ask him.

With a hop in his step, he closes the door and rounds the truck for Razor. The two share a handshake Razor created just for him.

I slide my finger back and forth over Violet’s thigh. Each caress makes me wish we didn’t have six-plus hours of torture in front of us. “I want to kiss you, Violet.”

Her breathing hitches, and when I turn my head to look at her, she’s regarding me from below hooded lids.

“I’m not sure I’ve ever wanted to kiss you as badly as I do right now.”

She licks her lips, making them wet, making them a deeper shade of red. Her pulse increases under my touch and it’s matching the beating of my heart.

“I’m not going to do it now, but I want to later. You’ve got to figure out where you’re standing on this. If all you can handle is me taking your hand, holding you at night as we sleep, being next to each other so we find some peace, then that’s where I’ll leave it, but I want to kiss you, and if kissing you crosses lines that are going to cause you pain, I won’t even try.”

“Chevy—” she starts.

“Don’t answer now,” I cut her off. “If you tell me yes, we’ll never make it out of this truck.” If she tells me no, I’ll want to nurse my bleeding wounds in private.

Regardless of my words, I tuck her silky hair behind her ear, enjoying how the strands fall between my fingers, then caress the heat radiating off her cheeks. I love how her blue eyes are smoldering. Love how she’s angled herself toward me. Love how her hand has wandered to my leg. It’s all good signs, but this can’t be the time or the place.

With a flick of my wrist, I produce a daisy. Stole it from a vase of them Mom had on the table. Violet lights up like I’m handing her the world. Damn if I understand why girls like flowers, but Violet does and I like making Violet happy.

“I never get tired of your magic,” she says.

That’s a good thing.

Violet squeezes my thigh once and I groan as I reach behind me, crack open the door and welcome the cold air that blows into the truck. I fall out and the little devil giggles as I help her settle her good leg to the ground.

Violet

I CAN’T THINK about Chevy. I can’t think about how his hand was hot on my thigh. I can’t think about how his fingers against my face caused sweet tingles, I can’t think about how there’s this pulse in my body that won’t go away after he suggested kissing.

Kissing Chevy. Once I do that, there will be no going back and that’s the equivalent of throwing myself over a cliff.

There is no thinking about Chevy.

None.

Instead, I focus on surviving high school. At least this day in high school. In high school you need armor and armor are other bodies of people you can surround yourself with and that’s what you call friends.

After dad died, I made new friends.

Considering we live in a town small enough that when someone sneezes you can hear the echoing bless you from the other side of the county, new is a relative term. They were people I had known most of my life, but I was too consumed with the Terror to notice.