Page 8 of The Captain's Curfew
A massive, life-altering, sanity-testing mistake.
Violet Hayes has been in my apartment for less than forty-eight hours, and I’m already on edge.
Her suitcase still sits by the dresser in the guest room, her shoes scattered near the door, her jacket draped over the back of my couch like she’s claiming the place.
It’s been exactly eight years since she was in my space when Declan brought her along for a team cookout.She was barely out of high school then, all wide-eyed curiosity and relentless energy, trailing after her big brother’s friends like she belonged.
She doesn’t look like a kid anymore.
That thought should be enough to make me shove her right out the door.
Instead, I grip my coffee mug tighter and watch as she pads into the kitchen, hair damp from the shower, dressed in a tiny pair of cotton shorts and an oversized sweatshirt with the team’s damn logo on it.
My jersey.
I grind my teeth.
“You planning on moving your stuff out of my living room anytime soon?”I ask, keeping my voice neutral.
Violet barely glances at me as she rummages through a drawer.“Probably.”
“That’s not an answer.”
She hums, unbothered.“Neither was yours.”
I narrow my eyes, already regretting this arrangement all over again.“Are you always this difficult?”
She grins at me over her shoulder.“No, I’m usually worse.”
Jesus.
I watch as she grabs a spoon and heads for the fridge like she owns the place.She moves with an easy familiarity as if she isn’t standing in a house that’s been my space, my sanctuary, for the last few years.
And then she pulls out the peanut butter jar.
I frown.“What are you doing?”
Violet pops the lid off, dips her spoon inside, and scoops out a massive bite.“Breakfast.”
I stare at her.“You’re eating peanut butter.Straight out of the jar.”
“Yep.”She licks a bit off her spoon.“Don’t judge me, Logan.It’s too early for that.”
I glance at the clock.It’s almost ten.
I exhale slowly, reminding myself that this is temporary.That she’ll soon find an apartment, and my life will go back to the structured, uncomplicated routine I built for myself.
I do not think about the way her mouth wraps around that spoon.
Or the fact that she’s still wearing my jersey.
I definitely don’t bite back a groan as I watch her tongue lick up the last of the peanut butter from the spoon.
“This isn’t going to work if you treat my house like a damn dorm room,” I say, setting my coffee down harder than necessary.“I have rules.”
Violet rolls her eyes.“Of course you do.”
“Curfew is midnight.”
