Long Way Home (Thunder Road #3)(27)

“He’s my family,” I say. “Same as you.”

“You need to cut them out of your life.”

But that would be like cutting off parts of myself. An arm. A leg. “I’m okay, Mom.”

Her head tilts in an effort for composure, but a single tear falls from the corner of her eye regardless. She reaches out, palm up, and I take her hand again. We sit like that, in silence, holding on to one another.





Violet

SILENCE.

It’s weird how I crave it, and I can’t seem to find it.

There’s a thrumming. Like a strange background music. It’s persistent and annoying and I can’t figure out where it’s coming from. None of the others who rotate in and out of my room seem to hear it. I don’t ask, but I can tell. They don’t appear as if they’re ready to peel their skin off their bones.

My mother’s here, beside me. Chair as close to the hospital bed as it can go and she won’t stop talking. Mom talks when she’s nervous. She talks when she’s not nervous. Mom talks. Most of it nothing of importance. Just words so she can fill the quiet I so deeply desire.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I cleaned your room while you were gone. Thought it would be nice if you came home and found it clean. I changed the sheets and the comforter. I used a new fabric softener. Smells like lilacs. I know you like lilacs. At least I think you do.”

Never really thought of lilacs one way or another.

Mom braids her blond hair. It’s a habit she has when she’s anxious. Mom lives in a constant state of distress. It’s been worse since Dad died. I can’t imagine what the past twenty-four hours have been like for her. Possibly the same fear and soul-crushing agony as when I sat next to her waiting to hear why Dad hadn’t returned home.

Because of that I let her talk. It’s what makes her feel better.

I’m not in pain anymore. There’s an IV and there’s a drip and the nurse said whatever was in the drip would take all the aches away. She was right, but it also made my head light, my body numb and my nose itch.

“Brandon and I made you cookies. Chocolate chip ones with oatmeal in them. You loved those when you were younger. We thought you would like them when you came home.”

I haven’t seen Brandon yet and that makes me frown. There’s no reason for them to lie to me, so I’m assuming he’s okay, but I’ll feel better once I see him, hug him, confirm in real life he’s fine.

Fine.

My heart squeezes. Chevy. I need to know if he’s okay. I strip off the sheet and go to slide out of the bed. Mom’s face falls, her fingers freeze on the locks of hair she was braiding, then unbraiding for the umpteenth time. “Please stop trying to get out of bed. The doctor doesn’t want you placing pressure on your knee.”

Evidently, I’ve tried this before. Time and words seem like running water.

“Violet...” Mom hesitates. “I know you answered earlier, when the nurses admitted you, but...” Mom stands, the long strands of her braid unraveling. “Are you sure nothing happened to you? Nothing that you want to tell me about?”

I blink and look down at my bruised body and my now immobilized knee. It’s in some sort of brace and the doctor talked to Mom about visiting a specialist. I raise my eyebrows. Pretty obvious something happened to me.

Mom touches the end of the hospital bed as if it’s a protective shield between her and me. She doesn’t touch me. Just the bed. “Did any man... Did anyone... Because if so, there are tests that should be run and...things that should happen.”

My stomach drops. It was bad enough to answer the questions the nurse asked when it was just me and her and she was helping me out of my clothes. It was odd and awkward then. With Mom it’s another level of hell. I shake my head no.

A knock on the door and I suck in a breath. Maybe it’s Chevy. Mom answers and after a brief exchange she opens the door wider and Eli walks in. Rage locks my muscles.

Eli.

I hate him. Hate him so much. I hate his club. I hate the way he struts in here like he belongs, like he has the right to care. If it wasn’t for his stupid club, I wouldn’t have been kidnapped. If it wasn’t for his stupid personal war with the head of the Riot, they wouldn’t be using me to hurt him and they wouldn’t be threatening my family.

“Hey, Violet.” Eli stops near the edge of the bed, and unlike Mom, he touches me, my ankle, and I jerk. He immediately lifts his hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Little too late for that.

“Is your ankle hurting, too?”

No pain right now. It’s the meds, but everything will hurt in the morning.

“Everyone’s been asking about you. You’ve got an entire hallway and waiting room full of guys waiting to do your bidding. Just say the word, and any of us will do or get whatever your heart desires.”

Mom comes up beside him and my muscles twitch when she touches his arm. Touches him. I turn away, because since Dad died, I’ve been unworthy of touch.

“The doctor said she’s dehydrated, bruised, and that there’s damage to her knee. I’m worried. They’ve mentioned surgery.”

Weird how important surgery seems, but how no one’s mentioned that to me.

“She keeps trying to get out of bed. God only knows where she thinks she’s going. The nurse told Violet to push the button if she needed to use the restroom and Violet seemed to understand, so I don’t have a clue what she’s doing.”