Page 9 of Knot So Sweet
Liam's moved his chair to get a better angle, beer forgotten. "She's got guts. Not many people would try to reason with someone who's clearly in fight-or-flight mode."
We can't hear what Meredith's saying, but we can see her gestures as she stands next to the driver's side window. For a long moment, nothing happens. Then the window cracks open just enough for Violet's face to appear.
Even from this distance, I can see the wariness in her posture. As if she's ready to bolt one minute then the next, as if Violet’s listening, which is more than she did for either Xaden or me.
"Look at that," Liam says softly. "She's actually talking to her."
"Meredith could charm information out of a stone," Xaden points out. "She's had fifty odd years of practice dealing with stubborn, difficult people. Present company included."
The conversation continues for several minutes, Meredith occasionally nodding or gesturing toward the bakery. At one point, she pulls tissues from her purse, and hands them through the window gap.
"Jesus," I say. "Is she crying?"
"Wouldn't surprise me," Liam says. His scent grows even warmer, more protective. "Sometimes all it takes is one person showing genuine kindness to break down walls you've been building for who knows how long."
There's something in his expression that suggests he's speaking from experience. I study his profile as he watches the scene outside, noting the way his jaw is set and his hands are clenched around his beer bottle.
"You okay, man?" Xaden asks. "You've seemed off all evening."
Liam's smile is tired and doesn't reach his eyes. His chamomile scent grows muted with sadness. "Long day. Had to put down Mrs. Peterson's dog this afternoon. Fifteen-year-old Golden Retriever named Buddy. Sweet as pie, loved everyone he met, but his kidneys were failing and he was in pain."
"Fuck, I'm sorry." Xaden's says.
"The worst part is, if she'd brought him in a week earlier, I might have been able to do something. I would have caught it early enough to manage with medication, maybe buy him another year or two of good quality life. But she kept thinking he was just getting old, that it was normal for him to be slowing down and drinking more water." Liam takes a long drink, Adam's apple bobbing. "By the time she realized something was seriously wrong, the damage was too extensive to reverse."
"That's not your fault," I say, voice unusually gentle. "People don't always know what to look for."
"Logically, I know that. But it doesn't make it easier when you're holding a dog who's been someone's best friend for fifteenyears and watching the life go out of his eyes." Liam's voice is steady, but I can hear the pain underneath. "Mrs. Peterson was devastated. Kept apologizing, and asking if there was anything else we could try. I had to be the one to tell her that sometimes love means letting go."
The silence that follows is heavy as hell. I stare at my coffee. In the quiet, all I can think about is damage that doesn't heal. Everyone keeps pushing me to help this stranger. As if, I didn't already get my teeth kicked in by trusting someone who seemed broken and desperate before.
It doesn't matter that she might actually not be like my ex. I've been bitten before, and some scars don't fade just because everyone else thinks you should move on.
4
VIOLET
The knock on my car window makes me jump so hard I nearly crack my skull on the roof.
Excellent. Just what I fucking need, another confrontation with a local who thinks I'm ruining their scenic mountain town by existing.
But when I crack the window, it's not an angry alpha glaring at me. It's a woman, maybe in her fifties, with dark hair and the kind of smile which probably made kids confess to stealing cookies for decades.
"Hello, dear," she says, and her voice carries the authority of someone accustomed to being heard. "I'm Meredith Blackwell. Are you all right?"
I consider lying. I've gotten good at it over the years. Fine, great, just passing through, nothing to see here.
Instead, what comes out is: "My car died."
Brilliant. State the obvious, Violet.
"I can see that,” Meredith says gently. "What I meant was, are you all right? You've been sitting out here for hours, and it's getting colder."
When's the last time someone asked if I was okay and actually waited for an answer?
"I'm fine," I say automatically.
Meredith raises an eyebrow as if she has heard such lies before. "Dear, you're sitting in a broken-down car in two-degree weather. It's not fine by anyone's definition."
