When Our Worlds Stand Still (Our Worlds #3)(77)

A few short blocks from The Knox, my phone vibrates. Violet’s name screams at me, and I push ignore. She and I don’t have anything to talk about right now. Our argument has turned her cold and distant, and perhaps I am, too. One of us will apologize, and the other will fall in place, and we’ll swear to never fight with each other again. Best friends act irrationally, but in the end, we know we have each other’s back. Even when we don’t agree with the choices being made.

The phone vibrates again, and I allow it to ring. As immature as it may seem, she can leave a voicemail. I step through the front door, and heat from the mass of bodies hits me. The place is stuffed like a can of sardines. Sweat and cologne waft through the room. How is it possible guys haven’t figured out less is more in all of these years?

I toss my purse over the counter. David catches it without dropping the bottle of tequila in his hand.

“You do realize this thing is vibrating, right?” He smirks and wiggles his eyebrows. Clearly, he’s entertaining the idea it’s for reasons other than my cellphone.

“Try to ignore it, and David, get your head out of the gutter.”

When I open the breakroom door, Kate slams her locker shut and leans against it. Between our opposite schedules and my weekends in Connecticut, we haven’t had much time to catch up lately. I’ve missed the income, but the time Graham and I’ve spent relearning each other is irreplaceable.

“What’s up, beautiful?” I grab my apron out of my locker and tie the worn fabric behind my back.

“Sam and I are officially official,” she whispers. A content gleam dances through her eyes.

“Well, congratulations. Now he doesn’t need to worry about a sexual harassment lawsuit.” With gentle pressure, I squeeze her shoulder.

“It’s not just a fling. At least I hope it’s not. This could really go somewhere. I know he acts like a total douche nozzle here at work, but he’s a really nice guy.”

“Did you just call me a douche nozzle?” Sam’s tight voice makes Kate and me look up to the door. He stands there, arms crossed over his chest, and a sweet smile on his face. Until now, a smile I haven’t believed him to be capable of.

Kate waltzes to him, a sway in her hips, kisses his cheek, and wraps her arms around his shoulders. The public declaration of their unwavering commitment to each other makes me groan. When I pass by them, they’re in the middle of whispers and giggles. Nothing I want to witness.

“There’s a grumpy redhead out there, demanding to see you.” Sam reaches out and grips my bicep.

During mine and Violet’s argument, Kate has been sweet enough to lend me an ear. Her sympathetic, knowing smile tells me I need to go out there. She’s right. Violet is family, and I need to right my wrongs and listen to anything my best friend has to say. It’s my turn to be there for her.

“Thanks, Sam.” I smile. “Be good to her, or I’ll kick your ass.”

He nods and turns his full attention back to Kate as I leave the room.

On the main floor, Violet paces in front of the bar. The conversation she’s having with herself must be a good one. Frantic hands wave back and forth, and wild eyes scan the bar. When they fall on me, her face goes slack. She blinks once, and after a long pause, blinks again. A lump forms in my throat at the apprehension staring back at me.

Violet races over and gets right in my face. “I’ve been calling you and texting non-stop for the past half hour.”

“What’s going on?” I ask, messing with the waistband of my apron.

“It’s Graham,” she whispers, but it sounds more like a shout. “There’s been an accident.”

At the dreaded word, my ears flood with background noise. My mind runs in a million directions, imagining a thousand different scenarios. Sweat coats my palms, and even as heat rushes through me, I’m cold in its wake. My heart beats so hard, it’s a wonder it doesn’t burst out of my chest. Like a fish out of water, desperate for air, my lungs beg for relief.

A hand touches mine, breaking through the numbness. My feet follow my brain’s command to move. A part of me is aware of the blurry people I pass. Words spoken don’t quite register. Arms wrap around me, and I realize I’m trembling. Something is stroking my arm. Sharp pain in my fingers pulls me back to the bar.

“Kennedy, we need to go.” Violet squeezes my hand again, hard enough to hurt, but also what I need to help me focus.

When I see the concern and pity on my coworkers faces, my brain reacts.

Something is horribly wrong.

David hands Violet my purse and gives me a sympathetic smile, and she bulldozes her way through the packed crowd. Before I think to breathe, she’s revving the engine and flying down the highway.

My head flops back and forth on the headrest. Violet talks, but I block her from my mind. Call it self-preservation, call it restraint, but when the blood stops rushing in my ears, I will hear the truth my heart’s not ready to acknowledge.

Violet turns down the radio and slaps my thigh. Pain seems to be the only way she can get my attention.

“Kennedy.” The worry in that one simple word scares me far more than I’ve ever been.

“I need some air,” I whisper, rolling down my window. “I just need some air.” I paw at my t-shirt, stretching the V-neck in and out. The breeze the movement creates brings a sliver of relief.