There was concern in his eyes, obviously, and she knew he had overheard so much, but he had his own fake smile on, so she would take it. Take an easy escape.
Grabbing up her tea cup, she rolled her eyes to the client then slipped on down the hallway, intent on heading back upstairs.
Shower first... and then a phone call. If she could get her teeth to stop chattering.
Chapter 8
Violetmadeitexactlyone week before she finally cracked and went in search of Henrik, and now, three days later, she was once again peeking into the small flower nursery to see Henrik. His sleeves were rolled up on his button up shirt and his jeans were tight across his ass, but neither of those were the things that had her attention. No, what was screaming at her was the fact that sheknewthathe knewshe was there.
Forgetting the whole wolf senses thing, which, obviously he could smell her being so close, he was also doing everything in his power to not look in her direction. His back was often towards her, his eyes downcast when he had to walk in her direction, and he kept turning, forcing himself to not look her way.
She wanted to scream, cry, beg—why was he avoiding looking at her?
But she already knew the answer, even if her heart was shattering.
She told him to go away! She had yelled at him! Rejected him again! She kept pushing away from him.
Obviously he wasn’t going to look at her, but... but that didn’t stop her from looking in on him. Particularly given how pale he looked.
And he looked...pale. Pale like her own skin, which never tanned and only burned. He had always been good at soaking in the sun’s rays, t-shirt lines harsh on his skin, but now, he looked nearly...grey.
Fabulous. He looked as shitty as she felt.
Was she the idiot?
Was it better for them to just... burn together? Was this slow decay somehow easier than simply imploding? Was she delaying the inevitable? Would they eventually give in? Was there even any hope for a future?
Questions, so many questions, and never any answers. There were never any answers.
Including from her mother, who wasoff and away, whatever that meant.
Could Violet ask to speak to another witch? Of course. There were so many of them, all with different specialties and backgrounds and abilities and histories... So many who had walked a variety of paths through life. Surely, of all of them, one would have some answers...
Except, witches with fire coming from their fingertips? That’s how you got burned... literally.
So she was left to wallow and to stare at him awkwardly from doorways.
Pathetic... desperate... heartbroken...
Itwasararetreat that Violet could enjoy a true friend coming into her shop for ink... not because she didn’t have a lot of repeat customers, but because she didn’t have a lot of friends.
Sam was one of the few. One of the few people who gave her a little shit from time to time, but also didn’t take any bullshit, and always kept it real. It was a pity Sam had no magic, because she would be one hell of a witch. Even still, more than once, Violet had ached to tell her friend the truth of her past. If there was anyone she would break to...
Well, some things had to stay secret, but other than that giant life altering secret, they were friends, no secrets between them.
In fact, long before Henrik had reemerged in her life, she had told Sam about him. Not all of the details, of course, but just enough... Just enough that he wasn’t a deeply darkly kept secret. He was real, someone who existed, with a history she had shared with another...
Last time Sam had been in her chair, Violet had been too struck to discuss what was going on in her love life, but now... Now, she needed someone to talk sense into her.
Being with Henrik was dangerous. They couldn’t be together. She needed a level head to remind her that, no matter how much love a person had in their heart, some things just weren’t meant to be.
“Bitch! I got shit to tell you!” Sam’s booming voice filled the space, interrupting Violet’s thoughts. “Oh, shit. You look terrible. You look like you need an orgasm or something. Maybe a coffee. I know, you don’t drink coffee, but we could get boba.”
“I don’t feel like driving two hours just to get a drink, Sam.”
“We could stop somewhere and get onion rings too.”
Fuck, she loved Sam. Sam was exactly who she needed to talk to.