Page 14 of Eternal Pieces (The Violet Delights Duet #2)

MAX

V iolet adjusts my tie, and I stare at myself in the bathroom mirror.

“I look ridiculous.”

“You look lovely. I’m jealous of everyone who’s going to be seeing you like this all day.”

After months of searching, I finally found a place that wants me. My first ever job is in the office of a printing company downtown. It’s a far cry from being a famous baseball star.

I’ve walked onto pitches with stands packed full of people to see me and my team. Had local reporters and photographers fawning over me when I was just a kid. But none of that made me as nervous as I feel this morning.

“They’re going to love you,” Violet tells me sweetly, kissing my cheek.

“How could they not?” I let my mask slip back into place so I can shield her from my negativity.

Leaving her to finish her makeup, I head to the kitchen to grab a coffee. Mad’s sat at the table in his black hoodie and jeans, drinking his own cup and sketching out plans for the garage.

“Wow, you look…smart?” He tilts his head, taking my suit in.

“Don’t start. My tie’s already choking me, and my shoes are pinching my feet. How am I supposed to wear this all day long?”

“You’re nervous. That’s normal.”

“Like you would know? You’ve never had a job before, yet you think you can run a whole business!”

He raises his brow over his cup of coffee, not letting my attitude get to him. Weirdly enough, he reminds me of Dad like that.

Wiping my hand over my face, I sigh, “I didn’t mean that. Yeah, I’m nervous.”

“I still don’t understand why you won’t ask Dad to help you get a job you’ll actually enjoy. We’re not built for being stuck in tiny cubicles all day.”

Dad dictated my whole life. I only played baseball because it made him happy. And after Mom died, we needed all the happiness we could get.

Now I want to find my way without him.

Steering the conversation away from me, I ask what always gets Mad going. “How’s the garage coming along?”

“Great, actually. I’m just working on getting some signage ready while the painters finish fixing the shoddy job we did. Hey, maybe I could work with your company to get the signs done?”

“Yeah, maybe,” I say noncommittally, turning my back to pour a coffee.

“If you end up not liking the job, it doesn’t matter anyway. You have all that money from the trial.”

Yes. The money that I received for being run over. I definitely want to use that to support my family.

Luckily, Violet comes in, saving me from starting an argument.

She’s wearing the cutest blue, chequered dress today that swishes around her knees. Her hair is up in a ponytail like usual, and she’s put on blue eyeshadow to match her dress.

“Morning, baby. You look beautiful.” Mad effortlessly swings her around and kisses her. He sets her on her feet and crouches down, pressing his lips to her bump. She’s seventeen weeks now and starting to show. It’s true what they say about the whole glow thing. She’s fucking radiant.

We decided not to find out if we’re having girls or boys. As long as Violet and the babies are okay, that’s all that matters.

“How are my babies this morning?” Mad coos, he loves baby talking to them already. We’ve been taking it in turns to read to them most evenings. It helps Violet to fall asleep as well, especially when the nausea is keeping her up.

“Olive had me up at four am raiding the fridge.”

“ Olive ?” I exclaim, choking on my coffee.

Violet giggles. “Do you like the sound of it? I’m thinking the one that has me eating olives all night long is a girl.”

It’s kind of old-fashioned sounding, and I’m not too sure on it, but there’s plenty of time to think of something else, so I keep my mouth shut and nod.

“What about the one who has you craving tomatoes? Tom?” Mad asks.

“We’re not naming all our children after food,” I cut in.

“We should get to name one each since there are three of them and three of us.”

“It’s up to Violet.”

She taps her chin as she thinks. “I quite like that idea. But yeah, maybe we should steer away from food-related names.”

After checking the time, I pour my coffee into a to-go cup. “Do you have everything you need today?” I ask Violet as she finishes packing her backpack. I’m more on edge than usual since both Mad and I will be busy all day.

“No, I’m missing one thing!” She gasps.

“What is it?” I go to search her bag, knowing full well I already triple checked she has her water bottle, protein bars, and vitamins packed. I’m certain she has her smart watch on. I make sure she wears it every day so I can always keep track.

She grabs my tie and pulls me close. “A kiss.”

My first day is going way too slow. So slow in fact that I’m wondering if the clock on the computer has frozen. When it changes to the next minute, I groan and hit my head on the keyboard. Nope, not broken.

Thankfully, no one can see me. There are about thirty people working on this floor, and we all have our own cubicles. It’s weirdly isolating, but preferable to making small talk all day, so I don’t totally hate it.

My job is to approve any new customer designs that come in from the website.

The software tells me everything I need, so I didn’t even need much training to do this.

As long as the designs fit within the parameters of the print size and it’s not too pixelated, I get to approve it.

And that’s it. Not going to be mind or ass-numbing sitting here all day at all.

I’m sure there’s someone out there who would enjoy this job, but it’s not for me.

As much as I resented the baseball dreams that were forced on me, I do remember the good memories of playing it.

How freeing it felt to be out in the sun all day.

I’d never go back to that life even if I could.

But this isn’t exactly what I want either.

It’s not time for my afternoon break yet, but my hip is aching from sitting in this chair for so long. I’m not going to be able to see the computer screen once the pain sets in, let alone get any work done. I go to find my boss, Stuart, to ask to take my twenty minutes early.

He’s on the phone when I knock on the glass door to his office, and he holds his finger up to make me wait. By the time he’s done, my muscles have stretched out enough to not need the break so desperately, but I might as well take it now anyway.

“Max.” He smiles, motioning for me to sit in front of his desk. All of his family photos are facing outward, so I have to put up with multiples of his overly happy face staring at me.

“Is there a problem? You not finding everything alright?”

“The work’s fine. I just need to take my break now.”

He puts on his glasses and checks something on his computer. “Two hours early? That’s not something we do here, Max. Everyone sticks to their schedules, so it’s fair.”

“I get that, but in my interview, you said it would be fine if I needed time to manage my pain. Now is that time.”

The look he gives me is more of a wince than a smile. Stuart takes his glasses off and sets them gently back down on the desk. He’s a weaselly-looking guy, not much older than me, but the lines around his eyes and the thin mustache he thinks he’s pulling off add a good ten years to him.

“What did you say was wrong with you again?”

“Chronic pain,” I reply through my teeth, trying to keep this professional.

“Oh, that’s right. The car accident. You look like you’ve recovered well. How long do you spend in the gym? I’d kill to have muscles like yours after what you’ve been through.” He chuckles halfheartedly, his grimace of a smile permanently glued to his face.

“Would you also kill to feel like you’re about to collapse after every step?”

Awkwardly, he clears his throat and looks down at the open planner on his desk rather than at me.

“I understand what you’re asking of me, Max.

But as I’ve already said, it’s not fair to everyone else here if I give you accommodations.

There’s room to stretch by your desk for a few seconds if you need to, and I’ll allow you to keep your pain medication on you. ”

“But you said—” I stop myself short. I need this job. If I have to be the bigger man, then so be it.

“You said I could step out whenever I needed to. I won’t be long?—”

He holds his hand up, silencing me.

I don’t hear what he says next. I can’t stop staring at his stupid little mustache. It’s pissing me off. My ears start to ring as that familiar rage inside me starts to bubble up.

Keep it down.

“No,” I say.

“No? You can’t just say no. I’m starting to wonder if you’re actually faking this whole thing, so I’ll make life easier for you.”

Nah, I don’t need this shit.

“You know what? Fuck this.” I stand up and head for the door.

“Where are you going?”

“I fucking quit!”

He yells something about HR, but I ignore him and head for the elevator. When the doors close, I punch them until my knuckles bleed.

Fuck that guy. Fuck this job.

Am I acting entitled, thinking I’m too good for this place? Most likely. But when you’ve spent years having to relearn how to walk and questioning if killing yourself would be better than waking up to another day of pain, then you feel like the world owes you something.

All I want is to be with Violet. To always be by her side and to do the same for our children. I’m aware of how unhealthy a mindset that is, but the fear of one day turning around and her not being there is what keeps me up at night.

My lungs feel tight just thinking about it, and the longer I stay in this elevator, the more my rage builds.

It stops at the next floor, and a guy in a suit similar to mine gets on.

I think he asks me if I’m okay, but I can barely hear anything over the ringing in my ears.

I press myself into the corner so I don’t end up hitting him, and he stares at me the entire time.

Come on. Come on.

The numbers above the doors count down in slow motion. Why won’t this thing go any fucking faster?

When it finally stops on the ground floor, I squeeze through the doors before they’ve opened all the way and barge past the people waiting. They shout at me, but all I care about is the exit.

Pushing open the door outside feels like pushing a stone block. My arms don’t feel like they’re part of my body anymore. All of me feels detached. But the hit of fresh air as I step onto the sidewalk feels good. Brings me back to life a little bit.

I stagger down the street. People avoid me, and when I catch my reflection in a store window, I see why. I look like I’m drunk. My face is covered in sweat, and my legs keep buckling.

There’s a park across the road. I can get away from everyone there.

I find a bench under a large tree, tucked away from the main view of the park, and fall back onto it. After a few minutes, I can breathe again. I grab at my tie, tearing it off and popping a few buttons undone. That’s better.

Leaning my head back, I remember what my therapist told me to do if I ever felt like this. I focus on the things around me to ground myself and take my focus away from the pain.

Five things I can see…the leaves swaying above me in the light breeze, an empty bird’s nest resting on one of the branches, the blue sky backdropping it all.

I lean forward and rest my elbows on my knees.

There’s a patch of purple flowers in the grass across from me.

They remind me of Violet. She’s like a perfect spring day, bringing me peace when she’s near.

The final thing I see is an old, faded baseball nestled in the long grass.

Surprisingly, its presence doesn’t irritate me. Instead, it makes me laugh.

I feel more at ease hidden away here in the dappled light of the trees than I have all day. Mad was right. We’re not suited to being cramped indoors.

Taking my time, I move through the rest of my grounding therapy, and when I’m focusing on the three things I can hear, I recognize the nostalgic thwack of a bat hitting a ball.

I should ignore it, give Mad a call to talk through what happened today. Ninety percent of the time he’s an ass, but when it comes to us being there for each other he cuts the joker act.

Or maybe I should book back in with my therapist. She said I needed longer with her, but I was determined to prove I’m happy as is.

The sound comes again, and this time it’s followed by children cheering. Before I know it, my feet are taking me toward the noise.

When I step off the path onto an open section of grass, I find a Little League game being played.

Since the accident, I’ve avoided everything baseball. I quickly skip past it on the television. I avoid social media entirely because I can’t handle seeing my former teammates still playing it or messaging me, asking how I’m doing. But seeing it in real-time, I can’t look away.

The kids look happy. How long did it take for that joy to be stripped away from me? Years? A few months?

I look down at my shaking hands and rub the tips of my fingers against my palms, feeling the roughness that’s permanently layered onto me like a second skin. In the end, it was all for nothing.

It’s what destroyed me.

If I had never played it, then I could have gone to any college I wanted. I could have left with Violet. Mad could have followed us and not had to suffer the guilt of making that choice. Me or her. It should have been her. He should never have stayed with me.

Something wet touches my cheek. Am I crying? For fuck’s sake. I thought I was past this shit.

I wipe the tears away and start aimlessly walking, leaving it all behind me.