Page 26 of Wild Tides
“I don’t even know what to say to you right now.” She ejected herself from the couch, pacing the room, her hands laced together on top of her head.
“Th—"
“—Don’t finish that,” she warned, her voice choked with the hint of tears. She whipped around, frowning severely. “If it’s not a word starting in ‘S,’ then I’m not interested.”
So much for my expertise in human behavior. I expected to take some shit for helping her brothers, but I never imagined how much I’d hurt her.
It was a mark of how much her pain shook me that I couldn’t even think of a damn word.
I squinted one eye. “Sorry?”
“Like you mean it.”
My throat tightened. The urge to make a joke, deflect crawled under my skin – but something about the way she looked at me stopped those words cold.
“None of those guys were good enough for you.”
It was the wrong thing to say, but true. I meant it.
She snorted. “They were teen boys. Of course they weren’t. But who were you to judge? Like you were any better?”
That one landed. Hard. Her words scraped something raw. I opened my mouth, then closed it again. In reality, I’d been much worse.
“I’m working on it.” I wanted to tell her I was trying. That I saw it now. That I saw her. But I’d already said enough wrong things tonight.
The itch to pop my knuckles flared. I squeezed my fingers into fists, riding out the urge.
“Work harder.” She tossed her head. It would have been comical if not for the disappointment etched on her face. “Goodnight, Lee.” She stomped upstairs, leaving me staring forlornly after her.
Part of me wanted to call her back. Ask for forgiveness. Ask for an ice pack. Anything to make her look at me with something other than disillusionment. But that was exactly what I’d vowed not to do: manipulate her with my injury.
Just because it was the wake-up call I needed to realize I was wasting time didn’t mean it had the same impact on her. I’d been the one sleepwalking through life, afraid to chase what mattered. Violet had never been the lost one. That title belonged to me.
Violet had probably been happy on her own. She didn’t need me. Not like I realized I needed her.
If I wanted a place in her life, I had to earn it. Getting back in her good graces wouldn’t be easy. It’d take time and work. Luckily, I was ready to get my hands dirty. I carried the metaphorical manure stink and duct tape residue to prove it.
One romantic dinner wouldn’t erase the sins of the past. It couldn’t paper over my mistakes, the missed opportunities, or the time I let slip through my fingers. But it was a start. And for her? I would go hard, pulling out every trick in my arsenal, the kind of grand gestures and perfectly plotted redemption arcs I’d mastered in fiction.
Only this time, the stakes were real. The story I was rewriting was my own. And I wasn’t stopping until it led me straight to her.
***
You never realized what you had until you lost it. Vi’s cold shoulder extended through the morning. She still plunked a mug of coffee down at my desk for me before stomping off, but itwas a far cry from other mornings when we enjoyed our coffee together. I missed her.
Luckily, she couldn’t avoid me forever. She’d already agreed to take me to my follow-up appointment with Dr. Underwood, and Vi kept her word.
I scooted into her passenger seat for the short drive to the medical center. Getting around didn’t hurt as much as it did in the first few days, but my ankle still ached.
Vi studiously ignored me in the waiting room, focusing on her phone like it held the answers to the mysteries of the universe. Or just a great TikTok. Either way, I couldn’t begrudge her for putting distance between us. I could only hope that, once I enacted my plan, she’d forgive me.
Dr. Underwood’s nurse, Monica, called me back, and I pushed to my feet. Violet didn’t even look up from her phone. Dejected, I followed Monica down the hall, getting my weight and height checked before taking a seat in the exam room.
A few minutes later, Dr. Underwood popped in. Upbeat and cheerful, she looked like what she was: a blonde former cheerleader who’d managed the medical school grind and a family practice on a remote island and come out the other end as a slightly less-sunny doctor in her fifties. Competent. Kind. But with a penchant for toxic positivity no doubt driven by hoping for the best when you worked with limited resources.
So much cheer made me suspicious. But maybe that was just my shadow-spotting nature.
“Hi, Lee. Let’s get that brace off and see how you’re doing today.” She bustled to my seat, easily popping the Velcro on my boot and tugging it clear to examine my foot and ankle. She poked and prodded for a solid five minutes, asking me about my pain levels before sitting back with a smile.
