Page 31 of Against All Odds (Ember Falls #3)

twenty-three

Violet

T his week has been one of those weeks. Where everything sucks, something inevitably breaks—my coffee machine, for example—and you can’t find your shoes as you’re running out the door.

However, I don’t have a first period today, so I’m popping into Prose & Perk. Otherwise, I’m going to be a really terrible teacher.

I pull the door open, both hoping Everett will and won’t be here.

I haven’t seen him since the night at the fire pit, and each night I lie in bed—the one he gifted me—I think of him.

Of how he looked at me, touched me, made me feel cherished. How we were starting to build something new and amazing, and then I pushed him away.

“Good morning, Vi,” Hazel says with a big smile.

“Good morning. Can you save me by giving me a very large coffee, light and sweet?”

“Coming right up.” She turns to the machine, hits a bunch of buttons, and talks to me from over her shoulder. “I haven’t seen you in a bit. Everything okay?”

Oh, I’m fine, just nursing my broken heart and waiting for my ex to tell me what he wants. All is great.

“Yeah, just working. It’s essay week, which means all the students had to write three-page papers on Shakespeare.”

She laughs. “I bet they loved that.”

“I see the error of my ways now,” I say with a sigh.

The kids are great—their papers, not so much. We spent two weeks going over different plays and the facts we know about Shakespeare’s life. All they needed to do was show which plays might have been based on real parts of his life and where the similarities were.

I hoped for a little better than this.

“You always loved Shakespeare,” Hazel says as she hands me the coffee.

“Yes, she did,” a deep, masculine voice that has been haunting me says from behind.

I take a moment, trying to calm my racing heart before turning to see him. “Hi.”

Everett smiles. “Hi to you. So you’re forcing the students to learn about Shakespeare?”

“Forcing?” I say with a bit of indignance.

“I don’t know many teenagers who are all that eager to sit and listen to his inflated stories.”

My jaw drops. “Inflated?”

“Are you just picking one word that you want to zero in on?”

I inhale deeply through my nose. “I’ll have you know that Shakespeare lives on to this day because his work speaks for itself.

Why do you think we still see it performed?

Not because they are inflated or we’re forcing it, but because the stories are beautiful, tragic, poignant, and make the reader feel something.

You suffer along with the characters. You see their flaws and can relate. ”

He raises one brow. “Relate to what? I’ve never considered murdering my friends in order to become king.”

Hazel snorts. “I’m going to call bullshit. I’m pretty sure you’ve considered murdering me, or at least Miles, a few times.”

“That last one is definitely true, but not because I was greedy or had a wife who had aspirations to climb as well. It’s usually just because he’s an idiot.

” He turns back to me. “Don’t even get me started on Hamlet .

That’s just a mess that could’ve been cleared up in the beginning, and I really couldn’t handle the tediousness of Othello .

You know, there’s a pattern where he paints men to be idiots. ”

I tilt my head. “I wonder why that is.”

He grins. “I left myself open for that one.”

“It was too easy.”

Hazel snorts again. “You notice he didn’t have a damn thing to say about Romeo and Juliet , though.”

Everett turns to her, pinning Hazel with a look that indicates he’s not interested in this conversation any further. “Coffee, please.”

I grin, deciding that I do want to continue. “Yes, I did notice. Why is that?”

“No reason.”

Hazel places two cups of coffee down. “It’s because he’s totally Romeo and can’t remotely critique himself.”

“Yes, I’m so Romeo,” Everett says with an abundance of sarcasm.

“Aren’t you?” she counters.

“I can see it,” I say, half joking and half wanting to hear what he’s going to say.

We used to joke about being Romeo and Juliet, without the death and feuding family part. The way we felt instantly for each other when we were younger. The fact that we had to part, but promised to return, the way a single kiss changed our entire lives, but we promised our story wouldn’t end.

“Considering I’m still alive proves I’m not as much of an idiot as him.”

“Oh, please,” Hazel jumps in. “That’s not what made him stupid. That’s what made him the hero. He died for her, and I’d bet there’s a woman you’d do the same for.”

Our eyes meet, and I look away just as quickly. No, that’s not ... no.

Everett chuckles and then grabs his coffee. “Parting is such sweet sorrow. Until tomorrow.” He winks and then heads out the door.

It takes me a second to unscramble my brain and remember I actually have to go to work. I take my card out to pay, and Hazel lifts her hand. “This one’s on the house.”

“Hazel, I can pay.”

“And I can give my friend a cup of coffee. Now, go before you’re late.”

“Thank you!” I say and then rush out the door.

When I get to my car, I turn the key, but nothing.

“No, no, no! Not today,” I yell and try again. Once again, the engine doesn’t kick over. I huff, pop the hood, and go to the front as though I have a clue what I’m looking at.

Of course this is my day.

When I step back, Everett is exiting his truck that’s parked across the street and walking over. “Do you need a jump?”

“Probably. I don’t know.”

“I have cables. I’ll pull right over here,” he says, moving back to his truck.

He brings it alongside mine, hooks it up, and tries to jump it, but it won’t start. Seriously, I could use a vacation from my life.

“I mean, why not?” I say aloud. “Why not have one more thing today?”

“I’ll call Tom, our mechanic in town, and he’ll get it in to look at it. Didn’t think to put him on the list,” he jokes.

I shake my head. “Har har. Anyway, I can’t be without a car. I have to get to work and then home. I ... this is ... ugh!”

“I’ll take you to work, and pick you up to bring you home.”

“I can’t ask you to do that.” For so many reasons, I don’t add. He’s already done so much for me and I’ve given almost nothing in return.

“That’s what friends are for. Come on, get in the truck.”

I blow out a long breath, knowing there’s really not much of a choice when Everett wants something, and I get my things. I climb into the cab, thankful for the warm air, and put my hands in front of the heater. “I feel like it gets cold so fast here.”

“Dad used to joke that fall only lasted two weeks, so don’t blink or you’ll miss it.”

I smile, almost hearing his voice as Everett said it. “You sounded just like him.”

“That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” he jokes.

“I’m pretty sure I’ve said a lot of nice things to you.”

“Name one?”

I laugh. “There are too many to recall.”

“You can’t even think of one.”

“Yes, I can,” I say, with a touch of petulance. “I’ve said you were a god in bed.”

Really, Violet? That’s the first thing you go to?

“Thinking about that night, are you?” Everett says, his voice low and husky.

I scoff. “Not for a second.”

Liar, liar, Violet’s pants are on fire.

How long is this car ride anyway? Shouldn’t it be like five minutes to school?

“I think that’s bullshit. I know you are.”

I turn, my jaw falling slack in mock indignation. “You do, huh?”

He’s right.

“I do. Your face is all flushed and you’re remembering, just like I do every night.

When I close my eyes, I can see your face as you come.

I can hear the moans you make when I’m between your legs.

When I grip my cock, I imagine it’s your mouth sucking me deep in your throat.

You think about it because it was, hands down, the best night of my life. It’s impossible to forget.”

My palms begin to sweat, and it’s not from the heat. What is he playing at? We agreed to ... you know ... not keep up whatever we were starting.

To pump the brakes while I try to get my life situated.

It doesn’t matter that I think about him all the fucking time. That each night I find myself at my window, pushing the curtains to the side and staring out at his house.

It doesn’t matter that when I lie in the bed he gave me, I remember his body against mine.

Or that I see his face when I close my eyes.

None of that is the point, because I might have to leave him.

It’s better this way—better to hurt and ache for him than to keep having him and then be completely destroyed if Dylan decides he wants to be in our child’s life.

While leaving Ember Falls is the absolute last thing I want to do, for my child, I’ll do what’s best, and that’s for him or her to have a father.

Instead of confessing any of that, I shake my head. “I think you’re delusional.”

He laughs. “I bet you do.”

Then the truck comes to a stop in front of the school. I look over to him, both grateful and sad that we’re here already. I’ve missed him. “Well, thank you for the ride to work. I owe you—again.”

“You owe me nothing, Violet. I’ll text you and let you know what the mechanic says. I’ll pick you up after school if the car isn’t ready.”

“I can get a ride with Miles,” I say quickly.

“I’ll be here.”

“Don’t you have work or Frisbee or something?” I ask, hoping to find an excuse not to be in such close proximity to him again.

He shakes his head. “I’ll be here for you, anytime you need me.”

His words send a flood of warmth through my body, and I want so badly to reach across the truck, take his face in my hands, and kiss him, but that would be stupid.

“Okay,” I say, keeping my appendages on my side, and then I open the door. “Thank you, Ev.”

He nods once as I exit the truck. Then as I’m halfway to the door, he calls out: “Violet? Romeo should’ve never let Juliet leave. He should’ve taken her off that balcony and run away with her. Romeo should’ve stood and fought the world. I don’t plan to make his mistakes for the girl I want.”

Then he drives off, leaving me completely speechless.

Thankfully my car just needed a new battery, it was corroded, and they explained that it wouldn’t jump-start for them either.

However, they said there was no cost, that a mysterious benefactor paid the bill and refused to disclose his name.

I have one guess and I know his name.

Not to mention, there was a note on the car windshield that said:

Violet,

We’re going to add the mechanic and also a handyman named Mike to your list. Also, I got something that’s in the car, it’s for the baby. You can’t name it so don’t get too attached.

E

When I opened up the vehicle, ready to ride over and demand to know what the bill was, all my anger evaporated.

There, in the front seat, in the seatbelt was a goat stuffed animal.

When I got home, I went to see him but he wasn’t there, he had a vet emergency.

The next day I saw him at Prose & Perk to which he said he was very busy and couldn’t talk, but he’d stop by later.

Then two days after that, he was at the Ember Falls football game with Brutus. Who I was told wasn’t feeling well.

It’s been days of him avoiding me and I’m starting to wonder if this is all part of his master plan.

Now I’m pulling into the driveway, and he’s walking around the side of my house.

What the hell is going on?

“Everett, what are you doing here?” I say as I get out, pulling my coat around me tightly and following him.

He doesn’t reply.

“Everett?”

Again he ignores me.

Ugh, this man.

He turns around suddenly, and his eyes go wide, as though I surprised him. He pulls off his headphones and smiles. “Hello, Violet.”

I go to sigh, but it comes out more of a laugh. “Hello, Everett. What are you doing?”

“Filling your woodpile.”

I stare, managing only to blink. “What?”

“I saw that your woodpile was low, so I’m refilling it.”

Yes, it is low, but how the hell did he see that or know that? “Are you stalking me?”

He grins. “Is it stalking if you see me?”

I laugh, remembering our first encounters when I came back. “Funny.”

“I’d like to think so.”

“Okay, but why are you filling my woodpile? I was going to do that this weekend.”

He looks over at the very low stash. The heat in my house is fine, but it really doesn’t warm me well enough.

Having the fireplace going has helped keep the cost of the propane down, which is so expensive, and it’s a nice ambiance when I’m working on lesson plans, or reading a book.

It also provides light at night, as I often have to run to the bathroom because the nausea is so bad.

I’m hoping the doctor tells me something when I go for my first checkup in two weeks.

“It was low, and I didn’t have anything to do tonight, since practice was canceled,” he says as though it makes all the sense in the world.

“You can’t keep doing nice things for me,” I say, needing to get some kind of higher ground.

“Why not?”

My muscles lock for a moment and I stare at him. “Because.”

“Because why?”

Because I’m already more than halfway in love with you, and I need that to stop, damn it.

“You know why.”

Everett’s grin widens. “I don’t think I do.” He steps closer, pulling his work gloves off. “I don’t know why you’d want me to stop doing things for you, being near you, when you said we were friends and all.”

I hold my ground as he takes another step. “We are friends.”

“Are we?” he asks, eyes narrowing a bit.

“Because I promise, I don’t get jealous when I find out my friends are having a baby with their ex-husband.

I don’t imagine them at night. I don’t watch their windows, waiting for their curtains to move.

” I gasp and then he’s in front of me, his chest against mine.

“I don’t remember their taste, their sounds, or the way their lips fit with mine.

I don’t worry every day and every night that they might need something and they’re alone.

I don’t think about my friends’ woodpiles.

Those things, they don’t keep me up at night regarding my friends , but they do when it comes to you.

So I’m going to fill your woodpile, check on your propane levels, ensure your fire alarms work, weatherproof your doors or anything else I can think of until you realize, we’re not friends.

We were never friends and we’re never going to be just friends.

” He leans in, and I think he’s going to kiss me.

I wait on bated breath, desperate for it, but he moves to my ear.

“Call me whatever you want, Vi. Call me your lover, the man you want to forget, the man you pretend you don’t wait at windows for.

Just don’t ever call me your fucking friend.

We both know it’s a lie. We’re more, so much more. ”

Again, he leaves me before I can reply, going back to the woodpile and grabbing the axe.

Yeah, we are so not friends, but I don’t know that we can be more without it destroying us both.