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“I know because I met that lovely woman at the spa. I know because she was there when she taught me how to make her homemade rolls. I know because she’s so freaking desperate for you to see her”—I settle my free hand on the small of her back when her voice cracks, the ice giving way and that fire banking, exposing her big heart beneath, the heart that was so damaged by her family, it had to be protected by two thick layers of armor—“she’ll do anything to get your attention, even stand in the sights of your temper.”
My dad’s face.
Fuck, I know those words hit deep.
“And I know something of what it’s like to be on the outside and how much that can hurt,” she says, leaning back against me. “But you still have time to fix this, still have time to know your wife, to know your sons without the past screwing everything up.”
He looks away, a muscle flexing in his cheek.
“But”—her voice becomes icy cold again—“know that if you ever take out your shit on your son again I will personally visit you so I can shove one of the heels you dislike so much right up—”
“Okay,” I say, clamping my hand over her mouth and walking her backward toward my room. “And I think we’ve all had enough.”
“I haven’t,” she growls, pulling my hand off and struggling against my hold. “I didn’t even get to tell him what I think about him making all the problems in this family about you and your supposed need for the spotlight when they raised five professional hockey-playing sons who are all in the spotlight in their own way! And just because you have different opportunities and better stats doesn’t mean they get to treat you like shit because—”
I turn her in my hold, drop my lips to hers. “Hush, baby.”
“Noble gets it,” she whispers. “And so does Beck. If your dad got it together and stopped poisoning everyone with his anger, Oakes and Lex might do the same—”
I see movement in the hall.
Lex coming out of his room, his expression telling me he heard it all as he storms past us and into the bathroom.
And I know that, just like my dad, who’s glaring at us before turning on his heel and striding back downstairs, Lex won’t let his anger go. Not ever.
I’m the easy target.
Like Violet was.
“It wasn’t me who fucked them all up, was it?” I whisper.
Her rage melts away, and I know she gets exactly how big those words are for me to say aloud. “No, it wasn’t you,” she says, dropping her hand to my chest and pushing me backward until we’re inside my room.
“And I didn’t fuck up when I found you,” I say, watching her face grow even softer.
It’s not a question.
But she still answers it, anyway.
“No, honey, you didn’t.”
THIRTY-SEVEN
Violet
I exhale and lean back in my chair, thinking I should have taken Ace up on his earlier offer of getting a hotel room in town.
It seemed pointless that the time.
We had one more day here.
But the day didn’t start well—and that’s even after the confrontation with Steve.
Turns out we weren’t quiet.
Turns out that Joan heard the fight.
And she’s been frantically flitting around, trying to soothe everyone from the moment we went downstairs.
