Page 79 of No Need to Run
“Hi, Violet,” Sebastian says, coming up to her. “Come in. Make yourself comfortable.”
Ivy stands beside him, a soft smile on her face. She looks from Mr. Pickles to Violet. “I knew I was right about you. I had a good feeling as soon as I met you.”
She steps forward and wraps her arms around Violet, pulling her into a hug.
I open my mouth to say something, but Sebastian shakes his head and murmurs, “Let them bond.”
He’s right. Ivy doesn’t interact with anyone but us and her father. What’s the harm in her and Violet becoming friendly?
Violet winks at me over Ivy’s shoulder, hugging Ivy like they’re best friends.
“Have a seat,” Sebastian says when they pull apart. He gestures to the couch. “Dinner will be ready in about ten minutes.”
Ivy pats Violet’s shoulder. “I need to check on the food. I made steak, potatoes, and vegetables. But I wasn’t sure if you ate meat, so I also made lasagna.”
“Oh, you didn’t have to go to all that trouble.” Violet waves her hand. “I’ll eat pretty much anything. Except asparagus.”
“Wonderful. And don’t worry, I don’t like asparagus, either.” She pats Violet’s arm before turning and heading to the kitchen.
“Need help, baby?” Sebastian asks.
She looks at him over her shoulder and smiles. “I’m good. But thanks, baby.”
I press my hand to Violet’s back and gesture at the couch. She doesn’t flinch or recoil from my touch.
“Let’s have a seat,” I whisper in her ear. “Before they start making out.”
Violet laughs softly. The sound settles somewhere under my skin.
I really like that sound. A lot.
Violet sits, and I sit right beside her.
Mr. Pickles chooses that exact moment to climb onto her lap.
It took him months to sit on my lap.
Traitor.
She settles back on the couch beside me like this is all completely normal. Like she didn’t just win over the most judgmental creature on the planet in under thirty seconds.
Sebastian takes a seat across from us, watching the three of us like we’re the most entertaining thing he’s seen all week.
Ivy walks out of the kitchen, drying her hands on a towel, and stops. “Oh my God,” she breathes.
“Right?” I say immediately, pointing. “This isn’t normal.”
Mr. Pickles stretches across Violet’s lap, fully committed now. His eyes close like he’s found peace. With her.
Unbelievable.
The first time I tried to set him on my lap, he hissed, scratched me, and ran off. Then pissed on my comforter.
Violet looks up at me, completely composed. “I told you. I’ve already integrated into your life.”
My mouth goes dry. That doesn’t feel like a joke.
I press a hand to my chest. “I don’t feel safe.”
