Page 139 of Theirs for the Holidays

Luckily, it seems like this is only bringing us closer together. We’ve closed ranks around each other, leaning on each other and putting our heads together to try to figure this out.

The first order of business was finding a place to stay.

Simon was there to facilitate us getting our stuff from Violet’s place, which was a disappointment. I know all of us were hoping we’d be able to talk to her then, but she wasn’t even there, and Simon wouldn’t answer questions about where she was, out of loyalty to Violet.

We had to respect that. He didn’t seem angry with us, just sad that it had come to this, and as we were leaving, he clapped Rhett on the shoulder and told us sincerely that he hoped we were able to work everything out.

So that helped. At least everyone doesn’t think we’re scum now.

We rented a place just outside Sweetwater Lake, wanting to be close enough that we could be there quickly if she called us, but not so close that she would feel like we were breathing down her neck.

Rhett and Lennox go back and forth in our rented living room, trying to see if they can figure anything out.

“I wish she would just answer our texts,” Rhett says, sounding frustrated. “At least then we would know what even happened. How are we supposed to defend ourselves if we can’t even talk to her?”

“I don’t know,” Lennox says. He clenches his hands together tightly. “I don’t know. Maybe she doesn’t want to hear anything we have to say now.”

That feels so final in a way I know we all hate. This was supposed to be just for the time it took to get through Andrew’s wedding, but it turned into more than that. And even if we had all agreed to call it quits after the wedding, at least there would be some closure. Some sign that we could all keep in touch and be friends like we were before everything fell apart.

Of course, I know I’m not the only one who had started thinking of this thing as something more permanent. We never talked about it, but I know my brothers. I know what it looks like when they’re invested in something or someone.

Now, we’re all at loose ends.

Rhett and Lennox seemed messed up over losing Violet, and I know I’m not much better. All the light and banter and ease that we gained when we were with her is still there, but it’s all muted. Like none of our hearts are really in it.

We all need her, and it’s easy to see that now. She’s the glue that bound us back together, and while we haven’t come undone without her, it’s like we can’t be the same if we don’t have her.

“So what do we do now?” Rhett asks. He looks at Lennox, who looks at me. “Do we just go back to our lives? Like none of this ever happened?”

“I don’t see how we can,” I tell him. “She’s a part of us now. I know I won’t be able to just… get on with things knowing that there’s this rift between us.”

“Me either,” Lennox agrees. “I don’t want to leave here without at least knowing what’s on her mind. If she doesn’t wantto see us anymore, fine, that’s her choice, but we at least need to get some answers.”

Neither of them look like they know how to make that happen, and all at once, I’m done with sitting here moping around.

The only way to find out what happened is to hear it from the source, and I’m determined to make that happen.

I get up, telling Lennox and Rhett that I’ll be back later. I get in my car and drive into Sweetwater Lake, starting at the bakery.

It’s empty, the lights off and the windows dark. I can’t see if there’s still stuff for Violet to move out of it, but she’s not there, which is the main thing. I drive by her house, and her car isn’t there either.

So I head into town.

It takes some driving around, but I finally find her car outside Porter’s. As I park near it, I look up and see Violet, coming out of the diner with a paper bag in her hand, heading for her car.

I get out and walk over to her, shoving my hands into my pockets as I approach.

It takes a bit for her to realize it’s me heading in her direction, and when she does, her eyes widen. She starts walking faster, keeping her head down, hurrying to her car. She gets one hand on the handle of the door and pulls it open, but I get there before she can get in.

“Violet,” I say. Honestly, I’m relieved to just see her again. I know she’s been fine over the last couple of days, but there was a part of me that needed to see it to believe it. Something I didn’t even realize was tense and uncomfortable until the sight of her smoothed it all over.

And she looks tired and worn down, with a sadness pulling around her eyes, so I know she hasn’t been totally okay. That matches how I feel, then—how my brothers and I have beenfeeling. I don’t want her to be sad, but I need her to hear me out all the same.

“I don’t have time to talk,” she says, ducking down to put her food in the passenger seat.

“Please? I just need five minutes of your time,” I tell her.

“I don’t have five minutes.”