The Girl in the Love Song (Lost Boys #1)(16)

My hands clenched the side of the desk until my knuckles ached. Anger at the Whitmores for ruining my plan simultaneously battled with feeling like shit for the tragedy unfolding in their lives.

So, I did the mature thing and took it out on Violet.

“Miller…?”

“I’m fine,” I bit out. “I’m always the same. You’re the one who’s different. What the hell is going on with you, anyway?”

“Me?” Violet sank back down on the bed. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve been distant.”

She blinked. “When?”

“Last week. This summer. All last year. Ever since you started hanging around Ri—Evelyn Gonzalez and her friends. Is that how it’s going to be this year? We’re not cool enough for you anymore?”

Jesus, my petulant bullshit had become a runaway train I couldn’t stop.

“You know that’s not true,” Violet said. “And who is we? Has Shiloh said something? I just hung out with her yesterday—”

“No.”

“And you? We’re literally hanging out right now.” Her face turned down in concern. “You really think I ignored you at school last year? That’s not true.”

“I’m not a fucking pity case, Vi. I’m just telling you what I—we—notice. Something’s different and has been for a while.”

“I have new friends. That doesn’t mean I don’t care about my old friends.”

“Uh huh. How are things with River?” I gritted out.

“Aside from his mom maybe dying? There are no ‘things.’ I’ve told you a hundred times. He hardly says a word to me. We’re not dating or anything.”

“Yet.”

She crossed her arms. “Jealous, are we?”

I swallowed hard. Here it was. Now or never. Confess or wallow in misery forever.

But in the silence that stretched between us, Violet began to stare at me fearfully, scared that I might be on the verge of imploding our friendship. Of breaking our blood vow.

My jaw worked as I wrestled with myself until downstairs, raised voices—one low, one higher pitched—rose up from the floor like a seismic eruption. As always, it shook Violet’s foundation, eroded her happiness. She tore her gaze from me and stared at the floor, then flinched as the sound of breaking glass from below. Footsteps thundered up the stairs. We both froze as her parents’ voices grew louder.

“No, you are not going to do this, Lynn,” her dad shouted. “Do not do this to her.”

“Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do,” her mom spat. “This concerns all of us.”

I instinctively moved in front of Violet as the door flew open and her parents crowded the doorway, her mom stopping short at seeing me. She smoothed a flyaway lock of dark hair from her mad dash down the hall and stood straight. Vi’s dad was a boxy guy who’d played football in college. He looked it—a former linebacker in a rumpled dress shirt, unbuttoned at the collar. They both looked worn out.

“What are you doing here this late?” Lynn McNamara demanded.

“Lynn…” Vince rolled his eyes and fixed me with a tired smile. “Hey, Miller.”

I lifted my chin. “Hey.”

Lynn pinned Violet with a hard look. “It’s nearly eleven. You have school tomorrow.”

“I know, Mom—”

“And honestly, Miller, our front door works, you know. I don’t even want to think about the damage to my trellis.”

“You haven’t planted anything on it in years,” Violet said.

“Of course not,” Lynn replied. “Why would I, if it’s just going to get trampled every night?” She swiveled to me. “Is it every night, young man? Just what are you doing in my daughter’s bedroom?”

Violet flushed pink. “Mom. I’ve told you a million times, Miller is just a friend. My best friend.” She looked to me, pleading. “Isn’t that right?”

My heart cracked, and I felt my head nod, my throat thick. “Yeah. That’s right.”

Her eyes were soft with gratitude, then hardened as she turned to her parents. “And what are you doing here, anyway? You can’t just barge in like this.”

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Vince said, frowning at his wife. “You’re absolutely right.”

Lynn scoffed but was calmer now. “We’ll talk about it in the morning.” Her gaze shot to me. “We’ll talk about everything in the morning.”

She stormed out, and Vince followed, offering a weary smile. “Not too late, Vi. Goodnight, Miller.”

The door shut, and Vi sagged against me. I put my arms around her, held her close.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered against my chest. “God, it’s so humiliating.”

“It’s okay, Vi.”

“It used to not be like this. We used to sit at the table and laugh. Talk. They loved each other so much. Mom told me once she was lucky she married her best friend. We were so…happy.”

I inhaled, I had to try. Gently. “Not every couple ends up like them.”

I wouldn’t let it happen to us. Ever.

She hugged me tighter and lifted her tear-streaked face. “Tell me the truth, Miller. Are we…okay?”