Long Way Home (Thunder Road #3)(70)

“Sometimes,” Eli says. “But sometimes people choose the harder path just to prove they can do it.”

“Sometimes, I guess they do,” she says softly, then leaves.

Eli and I wait in silence as we listen to her go down the hallway, up the stairs, and shut her door. Salvage. That’s what I need to do. Need to buy Violet and myself time until I figure out what the hell is going on—why she’s still so terrified.

“I’m responsible for this.” Eli looks at the pictures as if the memories are of war atrocities. Broken and bleeding limbs instead of smiling faces. “It’s my fault Frat died and this family is in shambles. It’s my fault Violet’s in pain.”

It’s what Violet says, but I don’t believe her and I don’t buy what he’s saying. “It’s the Riot’s fault.”

Eli presses his lips together, then bends to pick up the photos. “She was right. Frat kept a picture of them in each of his files. The guys used to give him hell for it, but he never cared. Frat loved his family. Loved them in a way not many people can understand and I stole that from them.”

I open my mouth to argue, but he cuts me off as he starts on the files. “Go to her. I’ll clean up.”

“Anything important in those?” I fish.

He shakes his head. “Vending and purchasing invoices for the food and alcohol at the clubhouse. Frat was a man of many talents. Had a knack for keeping everything organized and in its place. We should have moved all this stuff by now, but no one’s had the heart to look at those photos.”

Bet no one’s had the heart to take anything of his out of this house.

“Do me a favor,” Eli says.

“Sure.”

“Tell Violet... Tell her I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“She’ll know. That’s all that matters.”





Violet

CHEVY DOESN’T BOTHER KNOCKING. He walks in, shuts the door behind him, places his hands on his hips, then narrows his dark eyes on me. In the dim light of the lamp on my bedside table, Chevy’s a glorious sight. He’s always been sexy when he’s mad. Something about his brooding expression would typically cause butterflies in my stomach. Because of how long we’d been together plus how we pushed each other during our breakup, we’ve had plenty of experience at being furious.

I don’t want him angry at me now, but I don’t blame him for being so. I lied to the club, I lied to Eli and I lied to him. Betrayal isn’t something McKinley men forgive.

I’m on my bed, sitting near the pillows. My sore leg extended. This room is a beautiful place. Full of purples, hand-stenciled flowers, white sheer flowing curtains and perfection from a magazine. I remember the first time I wanted to make my room my own. I brought home a poster of a puppy from the school book fair. Mom told me no, I put it up anyway with pushpins into her perfect wall. Mom yelled at me, I yelled at her, Dad came home from work and told me to let my mother have her way.

The house is all she has. It’s her identity. Let her have it.

At least Mom still has the house. I put too much of my identity into my father and now I’m lost.

“What the hell, Violet?” Chevy sounds as exhausted as I feel. “Just what the hell?”

“I’ve been confused by our math makeup work,” I say. “Can you please take a look at it?”

He cracks his head to the side as if that action could keep him from throttling me. “Violet—”

“Please,” I add.

Reluctantly, he turns to my desk, flips open my notebook, and nervous adrenaline enters my system. It’s like ants are crawling under my sheets. Unable to stay still, I pick up the stuffed bear Chevy won for me at the county fair when we were fifteen and hug it tight.

I should have been the girl who threw away or burned everything he gave me after we split up, but I could never bring myself to part with the items he had chosen for me with such care. There is nothing fake about him. He’s thoughtful, loyal and loves people so much that it can cause him pain.

I loved Chevy and I still do. Keeping what he had given me reminded me that the moments of happiness we shared weren’t make-believe, weren’t a dream...that they were very, very real.

Chevy’s taking too long. What he has to read can be done quickly, but he continues to stand there, his back to me, his head lowered. Each second of silence causes my skin to feel stretched thin to the point of breaking.

He closes the notebook, slowly pivots in my direction, and his eyes meet mine. Inside that notebook are the notes the Riot lovingly left for me. I’m not safe at the clubhouse. From the conversation I had with Justin when I was kidnapped, I know I’m being watched here. I’m not safe anywhere, and I will not do or say anything to jeopardize my family and I won’t allow Chevy to screw this up for me either because of his inherent need to be a caveman.

“If my father knew you were in here, he’d be angry,” I say, knowing Chevy can understand subtext better than anyone else.

“Never stopped me from sneaking up.”

The right side of my mouth tips up and then falls just as quickly. He’s playing along, but he’s also speaking the truth. The thrill and innocence of those days are sadly gone. “What do you think of the math?”

Chevy crosses the room and the bed dips as he sits. “More complicated than I remember.”