Page 95 of Twisted Violet

When I come back, I’ve got the thickest comforter we own. Soft, worn, and still faintly smelling like the dryer sheet she always sneaks into the laundry.

I walk over without a word.

She doesn’t look at me, just keeps staring at the table like she’s underwater and everything’s muffled.

I crouch beside her and unfold the comforter slowly, careful not to make her flinch.

Then I tuck it around her. Wrapping it gently around her shoulders, and making sure her hands are covered too, because they always get cold first.

I know that about her. I knowa lotof things I probably shouldn’t about her.

When I finish, I rest my hand on the edge of the couch, just for a second, to show that I’m here for her, and that I’ll always will be.

Her eyes flick to me, barely, but it’s enough for me to know she got the message.

I pull back and settle on the floor next to her.

When I glance up, Stevie’s watching me.

She says nothing; just studies my face like she’s trying to fit something together.

Then she shifts, tugs Violet just a little closer, and mouths-

Thank you.

THIRTY-FIVE

VIOLET

The world comes backto me in pieces.

The weight of Stevie’s arm around me.

The people in the room, surrounding me.

The quiet murmur of words I can’t make out.

And then… I senseRomestep into the room.

The air shifts as he moves towards me, and his footsteps soften the closer he gets, like he’s afraid he’ll spook me.

I feel the brush of fabric first, then the weight of a comforter settling over my shoulders.

He doesn’t speak or touch more than he has to, but Iknowit’s him.

He moves like someone who’s memorized every part of me.

I don’t look at him. I can’t. Everything in me feels raw, like my skin’s been peeled back and all of my nerves are now exposed.

But in my head, something cracks open,and now… I can’t stop thinking about him.

It’s morning,I think.

The lamp is still on, but the light through the windows is different. Pale and soft, like the city hasn’t decided if it wants to wake up yet.

Everyone’s still here.

Stevie’s beside me, her arm heavy and warm where it wraps around my back. Her fingers twitch slightly in her sleep, like she’s dreaming.