Page 11 of Twisted Violet

“Where are the guys?”

“Niko’s around here somewhere and Rome slipped out a while ago.”

“Oh, okay, cool.” I hover awkwardly, then lean against the fridge, pretending to be casual. “I’m sorry, by the way.”

His brow ticks up. “For what?”

“For last night…” I gesture vaguely toward the hallway. “I know I probably put you in a tough position.”

Dallas tilts his head, like he’s trying to piece it together. Then his expression softens.

“Oh. That?” He waves it off. “Don’t worry about it. It’s fine.”

I bite the inside of my cheek. “Are you sure? I was worried I might’ve messed things up between us.”

He smiles at me, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “V, I’m not reading too much into what happened, and I don’t think you should either. Let’s just move on, yeah?”

I turn away before he can see the hit land.

“Yeah,” I say lightly, opening the fridge like it’s no big deal. “Sounds good to me.”

I pull out a bottle of water and twist the cap just to keep my hands busy.

He’s trying to be kind, trying to make it easy, but all I hear is that last night didn’t mean anything to him.

I thought something shifted between us, but maybe I read it wrong.

I guess I misread a lot of things last night.

I take a long sip of water to drown the ache rising in my throat.

The front door opens, and I glance over my shoulder.

Rome steps into the kitchen, holding a bakery box and a drink tray like he’s some kind of brooding delivery boy. All tall, dark, and emotionally repressed.

His eyes land on me and linger for a second, like he’s waiting for me to say something first.

Then he looks away and his jaw tightens.

He sets the box on the counter and pops it open.

“Brought donuts,” he says, voice neutral. “Pink ones. With sprinkles.”

I blink at him.

That’s…weird.

And unexpected.

He doesn’t look smug about it, either. No biting one-liner. No sarcastic jab. Which isn’t like Rome…at all.

It unsettles me more than any insult ever could.

I straighten, and raise a brow. “You brought home sugar? You hate sugar.”

Dallas smiles as he catches a white pastry bag Rome tosses to him and heads out of the kitchen.

Rome says nothing.