The Girl in the Love Song (Lost Boys #1)(52)

I found them in the kitchen. Mr. and Mrs. McNamara shouting over one another, a broken dish shattered on the floor in front of them.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

They stopped and fell silent, shocked and staring. I felt Violet slip behind me, her hand on my arm, small and trembling.

“Miller, no…” she whispered.

“Yes,” I shouted, my wrathful glare going between her parents. “Do you know what you’re doing to her? Do you care? You just fucking shout and break shit and then pretend like it’s all normal? Like she can’t hear you? Because she can and it’s fucking tearing her apart.”

The soft sounds of Violet crying behind me. Incredulous stares in front of me.

Mr. McNamara was the first to break free of his shock. “Now, hold on, young man. You can’t just—”

“Shut up!” I barked. “Shut up, for once in your lives. Shut up when you think you need to scream at each other. Shut the fuck up and spare one goddamn thought for what you might be doing to your daughter.”

I must’ve been losing it, since all of my own pain bubbled to the surface. Pain I’d tried so hard to keep buried put a red haze over my eyes. I hardly understood the words that were pouring out of my mouth. Or who I was talking to anymore.

“You can’t do that to your kid,” I raged. “You fucking can’t. You can’t just leave. You can’t go and leave behind giant fucking black holes in someone’s life that suck the light out of everything.”

“Miller?”

Violet’s hand on my arm gave me a squeeze, grounding me back to reality. I blinked the red haze away, my breath coming hard.

Jesus, what was that?

“How dare you come in here and speak to us like that,” Mrs. McNamara said in a seething tone.

“It’s about fucking time someone did. Violet won’t. She doesn’t say anything because she does what she always does. Tries to make things okay. She puts on a smile and keeps going. Working her ass off to stay ahead of whatever fucked up shit you’re up to.” My throat started to close, and I fought to keep control. “Because of you, she doesn’t believe in love. Congratulations. Job well done.”

Mr. McNamara raised his head. “That’s enough, now, Miller…”

“Yeah, it is,” I said, suddenly tired. Adrenaline had run its course and now my watch alarm began to beep. The outburst and turmoil had drained me. I turned and looked to Violet, tears streaming. My own vision blurred. “It’s enough, and it’s too late.”

I walked out of the kitchen. Mrs. McNamara started to shout, but her husband hissed at her to be quiet. Violet’s soft footsteps padded after me upstairs.

In her room, I packed up my guitar in its case and started back out the door. “Miller, wait,” she said tearfully. “Where are you going?”

“Leaving. Out the front door.”

“You can’t just go. Not now.”

I stopped at her bedroom door. “I’m sorry I kissed you, Violet. It won’t happen again,” I said and then I left. Left without one more word or thought for the anguish on the face I loved so much, wondering if it’d been the same for my dad.

Just like tearing off a Band-Aid.





Chapter Eleven





Homecoming, senior year: a day of epic fails and poor choices.

Against all better judgement, I went to the football game with Shiloh and watched the Central High Capitals defeat the Soquel Saints 42-16. A gimme game against a lower division designed to make our guys look good. And River, of course, played hero and passed for four touchdowns.

The parade came after. River, still in his game uniform, sat beside Violet above the back seat of a convertible. She was stunning in black velvet, a sparkling tiara on her head and a sash across her dress. She and River smiled and waved at the crowd. They smiled at each other. She looked happy. Radiant, even.

I felt Shiloh’s eyes on me. “Why do you do this to yourself?”

“Sorry?”

“Watch her be with someone else.”

It should’ve shocked me that Shiloh could read me like that, but then she’d always had an instinct about people and a zero-bullshit policy. I admired that about her, probably because I wallowed in my own bullshit on the regular. I’d walked out of Violet’s room the other night pretending I’d succeeded in letting her go. What a fucking crock. All it took was one sense memory of her lips on mine, our tongues exploring and our hands touching in ways that defied friendship, and I was hopelessly sucked back into miserable want for her.

“I need proof that she’s okay with him. That he’ll take care of her, or I’ll sic Ronan on him.”

Shiloh shrugged. “River’s unproblematic. At least there’s that.”

Fuck River, I thought with stupid, possessive pride, knowing that I’d been Violet’s first kiss.

And she was mine. Because there could be no one else.

“Speaking of River, did Vi mention that she and I kissed?”

Shiloh’s head swiveled to me, braids cascading down her billowy shirt. She tried to corral her shock, but it was too late.

Pain slugged me in the chest. I faced forward. “I’ll take that as a no.”

“I haven’t seen her much lately. But no, she didn’t say a word.” She nudged my arm. “I’m sorry. I always knew something was going on there.”