Page 143 of Secret Obsession
“Love you,” I echo.
It still feels alittleweird to be saying that. In a,holy shit, this is my lifekind of way. He’s twisted and dark and brutal, and he hasn’t lost any of his edge—but I love him all the same. And he loves me.
There’s a weird sort of safety in that, and my heart aches that Willow hasn’t experienced it in full. Not where she’s actively accepting it anyway.
“Violet?” Willow calls.
I return to find them polishing off the pan, and relief lifts weight off my shoulders that she’s eating.
“Sorry. He just wanted to make sure we made it safely. They’re winning by two going into the third period.” I take my seat and slide my bowl closer.
Willow’s cheeks pinken. “No, it’s fine, we just wanted to know if we should leave another little serving for you?”
I wave my hand for her to take it and smile.
Now we just need to talk her into going along with my plan. Or trick her into it.
44
WILLOW
Violet, Aspen, and I had a sleepover on the couch. Which is good, because I’m pretty sure I would’ve just started crying again if I had to go back to my bedroom.
In the morning, we take turns showering and doing our makeup, blow drying our hair. The temperature has dropped again, and wet hair would freeze in minutes if we left it. I’ve had enough freezing hair for one lifetime. Once we’re ready, we pile back in Violet’s car.
Aspen and I sit with the heat blasting while Violet dusts off the new layer of snow. It seems like they’ve both decided to do everything possible to not let silences build up. Sure, they did when we were on the cusp of sleep. But I’m almost positive they both kept talking so I wouldn’t sink back into my stupid thoughts.
It didn’t really work, but whatever.
I spent a lot of the night on my back, staring at the almost-dark ceiling. Part of me wondered if Miles was going to come here after the game and steal me away. Or yell at me for leaving. You know, prove a point or something.
But I haven’t heard from him.
It doesn’t help that I have both of our phones and he doesn’t have a vehicle.
I let Aspen take the front seat, and I’ve got a blanket wrapped around me in the back. I’m not in the idle chitchat mood and don’t really feel like depriving Aspen and Violet of conversation with each other. Which they do, their voices low and blurred under the blast of the heat.
When Violet gets in and turns toward the highway, I sit up straighter.
“Wait,” I call as she goes by the sign for the northbound side. “You’re going the wrong way.”
“I’m going the right way,” Violet says lightly, brushing me off. “We’re just taking a detour. We saw construction on the highway going the other way, don’t you remember?”
No, I definitely don’t remember that. But the detour part of her explanation jumps out, and I lean forward even farther. “Detour for coffee?”
“Sure,” Violet agrees.
I narrow my eyes at her and open my mouth to reply, but Aspen cranks the music.
Oh, great.
They’re up to something. And since there’s nothing I can do about it right this moment, I sit back and… well,tryto enjoy the ride.
That is, until wedetourso hard, we’re turning onto the street with the very familiar arena and hotel that I had hoped to never see again.
I shove between the seats and pause the music. “Tell me what’s going on.” The team left already, I’m sure of it. The bus would’ve been gone by eleven, like every other away game.
Violet and Aspen trade glances, but neither answer me.
