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She crossed her arms. “Jealous, are we?”

I swallowed hard. Here it was. Now or never. Confess or wallow in misery forever.

But in the silence that stretched between us, Violet began to stare at me fearfully, scared that I might be on the verge of imploding our friendship. Of breaking our blood vow.

My jaw worked as I wrestled with myself until downstairs, raised voices—one low, one higher pitched—rose up from the floor like a seismic eruption. As always, it shook Violet’s foundation, eroded her happiness. She tore her gaze from me and stared at the floor, then flinched as the sound of breaking glass from below. Footsteps thundered up the stairs. We both froze as her parents’ voices grew louder.

“No, you are not going to do this, Lynn,” her dad shouted. “Do not do this to her.”

“Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do,” her mom spat. “This concerns all of us.”

I instinctively moved in front of Violet as the door flew open and her parents crowded the doorway, her mom stopping short at seeing me. She smoothed a flyaway lock of dark hair from her mad dash down the hall and stood straight. Vi’s dad was a boxy guy who’d played football in college. He looked it—a former linebacker in a rumpled dress shirt, unbuttoned at the collar. They both looked worn out.

“What are you doing here this late?” Lynn McNamara demanded.

“Lynn…” Vince rolled his eyes and fixed me with a tired smile. “Hey, Miller.”

I lifted my chin. “Hey.”

Lynn pinned Violet with a hard look. “It’s nearly eleven. You have school tomorrow.”

“I know, Mom—”

“And honestly, Miller, our front door works, you know. I don’t even want to think about the damage to my trellis.”

“You haven’t planted anything on it in years,” Violet said.

“Of course not,” Lynn replied. “Why would I, if it’s just going to get trampled every night?” She swiveled to me. “Is it every night, young man? Just what are you doing in my daughter’s bedroom?”

Violet flushed pink. “Mom. I’ve told you a million times, Miller is just a friend. My best friend.” She looked to me, pleading. “Isn’t that right?”

My heart cracked, and I felt my head nod, my throat thick. “Yeah. That’s right.”

Her eyes were soft with gratitude, then hardened as she turned to her parents. “And what are you doing here, anyway? You can’t just barge in like this.”

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Vince said, frowning at his wife. “You’re absolutely right.”

Lynn scoffed but was calmer now. “We’ll talk about it in the morning.” Her gaze shot to me. “We’ll talk about everything in the morning.”

She stormed out, and Vince followed, offering a weary smile. “Not too late, Vi. Goodnight, Miller.”

The door shut, and Vi sagged against me. I put my arms around her, held her close.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered against my chest. “God, it’s so humiliating.”

“It’s okay, Vi.”

“It used to not be like this. We used to sit at the table and laugh. Talk. They loved each other so much. Mom told me once she was lucky she married her best friend. We were so…happy.”

I inhaled, I had to try. Gently. “Not every couple ends up like them.”

I wouldn’t let it happen to us. Ever.

She hugged me tighter and lifted her tear-streaked face. “Tell me the truth, Miller. Are we…okay?”

Her brave tone couldn’t mask the fear in her eyes. The agonizing bottom line was that she needed me to be her friend. In the last few years, her family had been on shaky ground, forcing Violet to grab on to any steady thing she could.

Like our friendship. Even if it tears my heart to shreds.


Tags: Emma Scott Lost Boys Romance