The way she could have taken advantage of the fact that I wanted her, but she didn’t.
I close my eyes.
That’s the part I can’t make fit.
The binder feels insane.
Violet doesn’t.
She feels...
I stop the thought before it finishes.
No. I’m not doing this.
I’m not justifying a binder.
A binder, Drew. She has a literal binder on you.
I turn off the shower with more force than necessary.
I need to think logically.
Facts.
Evidence.
That’s what I’m good at.
Fact: Violet knows far too much about me.
Fact: She keeps a binder about my life.
Fact: She had a picture of us beside her bed.
A picture of us that technically wasn’t even us.
I grab a towel and dry my face.
Okay. That sounds bad.
Really bad.
But—
No.
No buts.
Except my brain supplies one anyway.
Fact: Violet has never made me feel like I wasn’t enough.
My grip tightens around the towel.
And that’s the most terrifying fact of all.
I headto the kitchen and make some coffee. I glance at the clock.