Page 62 of Almost Yours
“Don’t thank me for basic human decency, Violet.” I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “Besides, you’re worth more than five minutes of satisfaction from breaking his jaw.”
She laughs. “That’s oddly romantic.”
“I’m a complex man.”
We start walking again, her hand still in mine. She starts to relax beside me, the tension slowly leaving her shoulders.
“So,” I say, keeping my tone casual, “who exactly was that charming individual?”
She sighs. “We dated for a while… Broke up around the time you got back.”
A spike of jealousy slices through me, even though I know I have no claim to her past. That doesn’t change the fact that some part of me wants to hunt Travis down and make him eat his own teeth for the way he talked about her.
She sighs. “He was the classic nice guy until he wasn’t.”
My jaw tightens again. “He ever put his hands on you?”
“No,” she says quickly, then adds, “Nothing like that.”
“Violet,” I say, gentling my voice, “what did he do?”
She hesitates, looking down at the sidewalk as if she can find the right words trapped between the cracks. For a second, I think she isn’t going to tell me. Then she blows out a shaky breath.
“He cheated,” she says. “Told me it was my fault. Because I wouldn’t…you know. What he said back there.”
My fists curl again. This time it has less to do about him and more about the pain in her voice. “That’s fucking bullshit,” I say, unable to keep the edge out of my voice. “He’s a coward for blaming you.”
She tries on a smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “It’s fine. I’m over it.”
I stop walking, tugging her gently to face me. “You don’t have to be over it. Not for me. Not for anyone.”
Her gaze lifts to mine. “I almost started to believe him. I thought I was broken or something.”
I cup her face in my hands, tilting it up so she has no choice but to see the truth. “There is nothing broken about you. Nothing. You set boundaries, and he couldn’t handle it. That’s on him. Not you.”
She gives me a sad smile and nope. That won’t do.
“Violet, the fact that you trust me enough to stay over, to let me hold you, to wake me up the way you did this morning…” I shake my head, half wrecked by the memory. “That means everything. I would never ask for more if you didn’t want to give it. Okay?”
She nods, but her eyes are still glassy. I pull her into my chest, wrapping my arms around her, not caring that we’re standing in the middle of the sidewalk. Who gives a shit if people stare. All that matters is that she knows I’m not going anywhere.
“I mean it,” I whisper into her hair. “You could tell me tomorrow that you never want more than what we have right now, and I’d still be the luckiest bastard alive.”
I press a kiss to her forehead, lingering there for a beat longer than necessary. When I pull back, her cheeks are pink, but the shadows in her eyes have started to fade.
“Now,” I say, threading my fingers through hers again, “let’s get that coffee before I hunt down your ex and accidentally trip him into traffic.”
She laughs, the sound lighter, and it loosens something in my chest. “Accidentally?”
“Very accidentally. Multiple times.”
We reach the café, and I hold the door open for her, my hand instinctively finding the small of her back as she passes. It’s a little crowded inside, the Saturday morning rush filling every table with couples and families. The line stretches nearly to the door, but Violet doesn’t seem to mind. She’s staring up at thechalkboard menu, her eyes brighter than they were a few minutes ago.
“They have lavender honey lattes,” she says, bouncing on her toes. “And look—homemade cinnamon rolls!”
It’s always the little things with her. She lights up over something as simple as coffee done right. She notices wildflowers growing where they shouldn’t be. Laughs at dumb jokes like they’re worth savoring.
It’s everything I love about her.
