Long Way Home (Thunder Road #3)(58)

Make love. We’ve made love before, but after doing it a few times, she said she wanted to wait to do it again. That she didn’t regret it, but she didn’t know she wasn’t ready until it was done. I told her I’d wait until she was thirty. I’d wait because while waiting we found other ways to love, other ways to touch, other ways to make her cling tighter to me and whisper my name.

So we do those things. We touch in ways that make my head spin, ways that cause her to nip at my neck, pull at my hair, press her body to mine so that we’re skin against skin and bring us to a high that spirals up so fast, so quickly that when we reach the pinnacle, we both squeeze the other, then tremble in the beautiful aftermath.

There’s a heat built between us, and as we struggle for breath, the first chill of the real world bites at our skin. Goose bumps form along her arm and I reach down, then pull the thick comforter over both of us.

Violet cuddles into me and I can’t stop myself from feathering kisses along her face, in her hair, and I whisper the same words over and over again. I love you.

She holds on to me as if she’d fall off a long drop if she were to let go and I hold on to her just as tight.

“I want to stay here,” she says against my chest. “I want to stay the night here with you.”

“Then you will.”

It doesn’t take long until her body grows pliant, her breathing becomes light and she flinches slightly in her dreams. My own body is heavy from sweet exhaustion, but it’s tough to let this moment go, to not fight to stay awake so I can enjoy her next to me.

Letting her go for a moment, I reach for the remote, point it at the TV, and that’s when I spot the bag on my dresser. My heart stalls. Her birthday present. Violet’s birthday present is on my dresser and then I run a hand over my face. She’s eighteen. She turned eighteen in the basement. I remembered that night but then forgot and not one person has figured it out. All of us, including me in a way, forgot her birthday.

I look down at my sleeping beauty. See the rare peacefulness on her face, feel the way she trusts with how she’s wrapped around me. Yes, I’m going to love her and I need to love her right.





Violet

TWO MEN HOLD CHEVY, another hits him with metal fists over and over again. Blood bursts from Chevy’s nose as the blood in my veins whooshes in my ears. I scream, but no one’s listening. I yell, but my words are a silent rain. They’re going to kill him. He’s going to die. A gun in a hand, it’s pointed and then I’m running. Running toward it, running for my death and then there’s a shot... Bang!

My eyes open, I sit up in the bed and I put my hand to my chest trying to calm my heart as I gasp for breath. I’m covered in sweat and I’m shaking. A check of the new cell Mom bought me confirms it’s four in the morning. At least two more hours before we need to start getting ready for school. Beside me, Chevy’s in a deep sleep. I slowly breathe out as it hurts to look at him. He almost died in front of me, and if he had, I never would have forgiven myself.

In his sleep, he seems so young. So innocent. Dark stubble along a baby face. I should tell him what the Riot wants from me. He’s promised to love me through this. Maybe I can trust him like I did in the basement. Maybe this time he’s choosing me.

My hands continue to tremble. I’m wired and I’m parched. Careful not to wake Chevy, I roll out of bed, pull his T-shirt over my head and slip on my jeans. The door to Nina’s room is closed and a pang of guilt hits me. I didn’t think about how she’d feel about me staying the night with her son. She’s awesome letting Chevy stay with me at Cyrus’s. No doubt she’s aware it’s in the same bed, but even awesome moms have limitations and I wonder if my being so overtly in her son’s bed while she’s home has crossed the line.

I sigh as I add that to the list of things I need to find time to worry about tomorrow.

The kitchen is off the living room and the small light over the oven casts a glow over two lumps. Oz is asleep, sprawled out on the recliner, Razor on the floor. Either of them would crush the small couch if they had tried to sleep on it.

Razor’s eyes pop open as I pad into the kitchen, and from the moving of blankets, I can tell he’s following. I retrieve a glass from the cupboard and fill it with water. Razor walks in, combing his fingers through his blond hair, and I have to admit, he’s cute rumpled. I also have to admit, he’s never been my type.

“You okay?” he asks.

I nod. “Bad dream.”

“That I get.” He props himself up to sit on the counter. A few weeks ago, he lived out a different type of nightmare with the girl he loves.

“When did you guys come in?” I ask.

“Chevy texted us after you fell asleep and told us to let ourselves in. Floor’s a lot better than sitting on my bike all night.”

“I’m sorry you have to do this.”

“Don’t be. Feels good to be doing something for you two instead of sitting on my hands feeling helpless.”

“Helpless sucks,” I say.

This time Razor nods and then he gets a faraway look in his eyes. “Can I talk to you about something?”

Considering he’s been my best friend since the age of dinosaurs, I lift my fingers in a bring-it motion.

He rubs the back of his head, then crosses his arms over his chest like he feels naked. “I notice you sat with Addison at school today. Has she said anything about me? About Breanna?”