Page 80 of Unleashed By Eden

Violet’s still smiling when she asks, “So, who were the girls?”

Heat crawls up the back of my neck. I scratch at it. “Uh . . .”

“Don’t wuss out now,” Kai prods. “You can’t leave us hanging.”

I sigh. “Cindy from high school. And one of her friends. I don’t remember the other one’s name.”

Violet’s hand stops halfway to her mouth, croissant suspended midair. “Cindy Winters?”

The laughter dies instantly.

She lowers the pastry slowly. Her gray eyes narrow, sharpened to knives. And I get the distinct feeling she’s about to get stabby again.

I clear my throat, wishing I could crawl under the pile of free shit. “It was years ago,” I start. “I was—”

“And that’s my cue to go check the day’s schedule,” Chris says under his breath, already backing out toward the kitchen.

Theo suddenly needs more food. Kai and Xander discover something fascinating on their phones.

Violet stands, tying the robe tighter around herself. She leaves her coffee on the table, steam curling upward, and stalks to my bedroom.

I follow, because of course I do. Kicked dog, meet boot.

As soon as I shut the door behind me, she spins around, arms crossed, fury held tight behind a calm stare.

“Are you serious? You actually fucked Cindy Winters?” Her voice is quiet and controlled.

“It was a long time ago, Vi. We were just kids—”

“That makes it even worse.” Her eyes flash. “You knowingly fucked my bully!”

“That’s not what happened,” I snap, then force myself to take a breath. “If you remember what those idiots just said—there was no fucking. No one got fucked. Including me.”

“That’s not the point, Carter.” Her control frays on my name. “What is wrong with you?!”

I drag a hand through my hair. “Everything, probably,” I say, honest and tired. “I was young, dumb, and thought with the wrong head. She was there and willing. That was the whole criteria.”

She lets out a bitter laugh. “Cindy made my life hell. She made me feel like shit just for existing. You and Liam were the only people who were supposed to get that. You were supposed to be on my side.”

“I know,” I admit firmly. “I’m not going to stand here and pretend it wasn’t shitty. If I could set fire to that whole night, I would. With a fucking flamethrower.”

She looks at me like she’s trying to figure out if I’m just saying the right lines or if I actually mean them.

“I’m sorry I hurt you,” I add, quieter. “That’s the part that matters to me now. Not what happened with her. That was nothing. You’re . . . everything.”

Her arms tighten across her chest. “You didn’t mean to,” she says eventually. “I know that. But, God, Carter—you sure are racking up the number of crappy decisions you made as a kid.”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

Some of the white-hot anger drains out of her posture; her head drops a fraction.

“You’re such an idiot,” she grumbles.

A ghost of a smile tugs at my mouth. “You’ve mentioned.”

“Good,” she says. “Sometimes you need reminding.”

She brushes past me toward the bathroom, the scent of my soap on her skin following. The door clicks shut between us.