Page 74 of A Violet Obsession

Finn disappears into the tree line, his dark coat swallowed by white branches and shadow.

By late afternoon I’ve decided this is the best day of my life.

Finn came back from the trail cams, stamping snow off his boots. “Trees are down across the road in.” He pulled the hat off, and raked a hand through his hair. “No generator anywhere on the property that I can find, but we’ve got plenty of wood and sufficient food for at least a week. Brady says the second the roads up north open, they’ll come.”

“We’re snowed in?”

“Why do you sound so excited about that?” He shakes his head at me.

“Never mind,” I say, not wanting to tell him about the romance novels I enjoy. “You talked to Brady?”

“On the SAT phone. Still no warrant, so that’s good. And as of this morning, no sign of Voss. We’ll keep security tight for a couple more days on the Vales and Emma, to be sure. Go put on something warm, and we can go for that walk.”

After borrowing a pair of Finn’s sweatpants to put over my leggings, and layering his hoodie over my T-shirt and one of his thermals, I put on my coat. I looked ridiculous in the giant clothes, but I don’t care. They’re warm, and I was going to play in the snow!

He insisted we stay on high ground, steering us along the ridge instead of down toward the road. When he’d said it was time to go back, I bent down, packed a fistful of snow, and threw it, hitting him square in the shoulder.

The look on his face was priceless.

He absolutely destroyed me in the ensuing snowball fight, just the way he had warned, but somewhere in the middle he started laughing. Really laughing—the head thrown back, holding your stomach kind—and I was so happy that it was me who made him do it. Afterward, we built a lopsided snowman while Hera watched through the window.

Now, I’m clean from a fast shower, already mourning the hot water tank that won’t survive another day without power, and dressed in one of my dresses with a cardigan over it. The fire is doing a surprisingly good job of heating the cabin.

The flames make the room feel smaller than it is, like the storm sealed us into our own private pocket of the world where nothing outside can reach us. I’m stretched out on the thick rug in front of the hearth, trying and failing to read the paperback I found in the nightstand.

After realizing that I’ve read the same paragraph four times, I close the book over my finger.

Finn’s sitting on the sofa behind me with his computer. He’s been off and on it since we came inside.

He sighs, and I hear the click of the lid closing. “I don’t want to drain the battery. I need it to keep eyes on the trail cams and charge the phone. I should have thought to bring more battery backups.”

He doesn’t get up, and I don’t turn around. The fire pops, and outside the wind has finally quieted. The silence between us is thick.

He hasn’t brought up last night. Neither have I.

Yet.

I set the book aside and sit up, hugging my knees, watching the flames instead of him.

“I meant what I asked last night.” I make myself keep going before I lose my nerve. “The cookie didn’t make me ask.” I finally turn to look at him. He’s watching me with an expression I can’t read.

Then he scoots to the edge of the sofa and lowers himself onto the rug next to me. Close, but not touching.

“Before I answer,” he says, “I need you to tell me something. And I need to know the truth.”

My stomach drops. “Okay.”

“Last night. You said you knew it was only a matter of time before one of Scott’s friends raped you. That you wanted your first time to be your choice.” His jaw works. “I need to know what you meant. All of it. What did they do?”

I knew this was coming. Finn wouldn’t jump into something without knowing all the facts. For some reason, the shame I’ve always felt thinking about those years doesn’t resurface. And I know it has everything to do with the man sitting with me.

“At first, it was just looks. I was fourteen when I first met Scott’s friends. They would come over to drink or get high on whatever they’d gotten their hands on. But at some point, after I’d been there a while, it stopped being just looks. There were comments and jokes that progressed to finding reasons to touch me. My hair, my arm… I learned to recognize the signs of which nights I needed to be locked in my room early.” I swallow. “Then one night, Joey broke the lock on my door. I woke up to find him in my room. He’d managed to get my pants off by the time Scott came in and hauled him off me. They got into it, throwing punches. Keith and Pete pulled them apart before it got too bad.”

Finn’s face looks as if it’s carved from granite.

“The next day, Scott gave me a deadbolt for my door.” I chuckle humorlessly. “At the time, I was so grateful. I thought it proved that my uncle cared about me. I actually cried. It didn’t take long for me to understand it wasn’t about protecting me. It was so he could get high and pass out and not have to be responsible for what happened to me while he was unconscious. The lock was for his conscience, not my safety.”

“How many times?” Finn’s voice is deadly quiet.