"Hey." I kneel on the ground in front of her.
Her voice is unsteady. "Hey."
"We have a guacamole date."
"Oh. Yeah." She presses her lips together. Then her fingertips. "Do we have everything? We need avocados, limes, cilantro, salt, and onions."
"I'll check."
Her eyes stay on me as I make my way to the fridge. It's clear Mal is in charge of the kitchen. Everything is organized in its proper place. It only takes a minute to find all the ingredients.
Violet slips out of her bunk. Her steps are unsteady as she joins me in the kitchen. Something is off. Something is wrong.
I'm going to find out what it is.
She examines our ingredients. "We need a bowl, a knife, and a cutting board."
One by one, I get everything we need. There's not much counter space in the bus. I have to put the coffeemaker away.
&nbs
p; "Joel won't let you hear the end of that." Violet's voice lifts.
"Joel can kiss my ass."
"Not until I leave in New York. Until then, that's my ass, and I'm protective of my property." She smiles, but there's a sadness in her eyes.
I want to scoop Violet into my arms and pin her to the wall, but that's not the right move here.
Not if I want her mine again.
Not if I want her forever.
I tease back. "Always nice to feel protected."
"Yeah, it is." This time, her smile wipes away all the frustration in her expression. "I'll lead, but you're the one with your hands on the controls. Okay?"
I nod. "Where do I start, Master Guacamole Chef Violet Valentine?"
She laughs. "Onions first. Do you know how to peel an onion?"
I nod.
"Okay. Let's wash and peel this one." She picks up a red onion. Her fingers brush mine as she hands it to me. "We should only need half of it."
I wash and peel the onion, then I cut it into tiny pieces.
Violet watches with a nervous expression. "Be careful. I don't want to be responsible for knocking your fingers out of commission."
"Because you need them or because I won't be able to play?"
"No comment."
I'm extra careful with the knife as I cut the avocados, lime, and cilantro. Still, Violet sighs with relief when I put the thing away in the dishwasher. She takes a more hands-on approach, stirring the ingredients with a spoon and taking frequent tastes.
Bit by bit, the tension in her shoulders eases. Things are light and easy again. That's how they should be. I get that life is tough, there's all this shit that hurts. I don't want her running from that. But I don't want her wallowing in it easier.
I want Violet light and free.