Lust Thy Neighbor (24 page)

"You've thought about marriage?" she whispered.

"It's nothing."

"Of course. Nothing."

"You deserve better than this."

"That's just the ultimate break-up line, isn't it?" She sucked in her cheeks. "You’re pissed that I lied so you give me some bullshit excuse of it being better for me. That way, when you think of me later, you won't feel as bad."

"It's true."

That set her off. "You know what? You're right. I deserve someone who doesn't put me on a pedestal. Someone who'll look past the stupid mistakes because he doesn't have unrealistic expectations.” She turned and started in the opposite direction but then she stopped and looked over her shoulder, her nostrils flared. “Guess we were wrong about each other, huh?”

He watched her walk away, and the ice that was freezing his veins flowed freely throughout his whole body.

He slammed the front door, and when he heard harsh breathing behind him, he hung his head.

"Don't say a word. Not one word." His voice sounded broken. "Please, just don't say
anything
."

"Okay." He heard Jacob shuffle his feet on the stairs. "But that was the most pitiful excuse for a breakup I've ever seen. You didn't even yell at her."

He turned to face his younger brother’s hazel glare. "Sorry to disappoint, but I think I've have enough awful breakups in the past.”

"Yeah. Well you're a piece of shit for tossing out the best thing that's ever happened to you.”

He clenched his teeth. "You don't know what you're talking about."

Jacob came down the stairs. "I know she made a mistake and she's sorry for it. I know that, for some reason, you can't get pass a little lie. And I know that you're so afraid of finally being with someone that you're making Violet pay for someone else's mistakes. She's not the one who cheated on you, so get the hell over it.”

"Again, you don't know what you're talking about.”

Jacob snorted. "I obviously know more than you.” He jabbed his finger toward the door. “Go. Just admit that you're a dumbass and after a night of groveling, it'll all be the same again."

Declan smiled even though his body felt like lead. "It's that easy, huh?"

"Yeah. After you beg, she'll forgive you and tomorrow you'll go back to normal. It'll be Saturday, so you'll probably do yard work and Violet will spy on you from her upstairs spare bedroom and pretend that she doesn't know you see her. You’ll make dinner, and I'll make up some excuse to leave and finish my homework when you give me your lame evil eye. When you think that I'm asleep you'll sneak out of the house. Everything will be the same again."

"That sounds nice, kid.”

"Just go and say you're sorry. Please?”

"No."

"No? What do you mean no? You just said it sounded nice. Why can't you just go and apologize to her? Make things right?"

"Because it'll be like saying that it didn't hurt."

Jacob rolled his eyes. “What do you want? A confession signed in blood before you'll forgive her? As if you didn't just hurt her, you self-righteous piece of shit." He turned and stalked back up the stairs without another glance. Leaving Declan alone.

H
e stared blankly at the ceiling as he desperately tried to fall sleep. But it was impossible.  She was still gone. Violet. Even though two weeks had passed since he had last held her, she still managed to affect him. When she was his, he had always slept on his side, holding her tightly against his chest. He had gotten used to her lulling his senses to sleep—the scent of her soap filling his nose, the feel of her hair spilling all around him, the soft and steady sound of her breathing.

He had gotten used to her, and then he had pushed her away so that he was left with nothing but memories, a kid brother who had spoken to him with gestures and grunts for the last couple weeks, and the worst goddamn case of insomnia he’d ever experienced.

He replayed that last conversation with her over again and again in his head. The logical part of himself yelled at him to fix things because he had blown the situation way out of proportion. Like Jacob and Violet had both pointed out, he was pinning sins onto her that she didn't commit. It wasn't her fault that he had instantly been reminded of bad memories when he found out she was hiding something from him. It wasn't her fault that he was dealt a shitty hand of cards during his relationship with Serena. Plus, if he were being entirely honest—like he had expected Violet to be— he would have eventually ended things with Serena anyways. Like he once told Violet, they had good chemistry in bed, but that about summed up their relationship. It was nothing like what he had—what he’d had—with
her
.

With her, it was more than chemistry. There was something about being with Violet that made every nerve ending of his body stand up on end. That made him ache for her even when she wasn't there. That made him question everything he ever thought he knew about life and love and everything in between.

What he knew for certain was that he might have ruined something good and right, something real, all because of fear.

But no matter what the logical side of his brain told him, he was still torn, still asking himself if he was what was right for her after he'd been such a fool. For the first seven nights, he'd been unable to sleep, his thoughts constantly replaying the good memories he had with her, but his mind would inevitably land on that last argument.

Tonight, the same memories kept him awake.

He had demanded honesty from her but then he’d acted like a hypocrite. And that might have cost him the one thing he never thought he'd ever want or need.

*

V
iolet heard her bedroom door open, and she tensed for a moment before recognizing the cologne that invaded her senses. When the bed dipped, she felt an unfamiliar body behind her, but she still welcomed the strong arms that circled her waist. "It's really late."

Even two weeks after the storm, she was used to feeling bare skin behind her in bed. She craved the feeling of it. Tonight, she was met with jeans and a soft tee shirt instead. Warm breath brushed the nape of her neck.

“You weren't answering your texts. I got worried.”

Turning, she released a deep sigh against Beck’s hard chest. "After Jake came by and walked Bear I fell asleep early.” She didn't tell him how Jacob had done everything in his power not to say his older brother’s name as he told her how quiet his Christmas had been. They hadn't gone to California—the “shithead” (Jacob’s word, not hers) had pushed the trip back to his fifteenth birthday in March—but she had already known they had stuck around for the holidays. On her way out to spend Christmas Day in Philly with Beck and their friend Daria who was home for the holidays, she'd caught a glimpse of Declan pacing his back porch, a glass of whiskey in his hand and a faraway expression on his face.

“I had a headache,” she whispered to Beck in the dark. Hell, in spite of the ibuprofen she’d downed earlier, her head still throbbed. “I’m sorry I didn't message you back.”

"Don't say sorry. You have nothing to apologize for.”

She sighed. "I saw him tonight." She felt heat pricking the back of her eyelids, so she squeezed her eyes shut. “I was taking the garbage can to the street at the same time he was pulling in from work. He just looked at me and did this little grimace. Lifted his chin like he was only acknowledging an awful memory or something.” She bit the inside of her cheek, trying not to picture the look on Declan’s face. She failed miserably. “I swear I wanted to jump over the fence and nut-punch him.”

“Don't jump over his fence, beautiful. You might fall and break your pretty neck. Go around the long way—that way you'll be more pissed off and the ball shot will be twice as hard.” When she gave him her best attempt at a laugh, he kissed her forehead. “There's my girl.”

“I hate him, Beck. I really do.”

His arms tightened around her, hugging her closer, heartbeat to heartbeat. "Don’t say that because if that were true, it wouldn't hurt like it does right now."

“Smartass,” she murmured because he was right. She did hurt. It hurt to breathe, to think. To sleep. "That idiot just gave up on us. One tiny mistake and he just gave up!"

"Are you ready to tell me everything?” he asked gently, taking her face between his hands. She'd been too upset and angry to go into details before, and the last thing he was going to do at Christmas was harass her about her breakup. But now, she had no excuse not to tell him what had led to the end of her and Declan’s relationship.

"Henry.” She bit on her bottom lip until she tasted copper then continued. “After Henry and Natalie broke up, he called. And then, later that evening, he showed up at my house unannounced.”

"Henry?" Beckett's sleepy green eyes widened. "I swear that guy is the worst. Why the hell didn't you tell me before that the douche was behind the breakup?”

"I didn't want anyone to know.” Something twisted her stomach, and her voice broke when she added, “Henry had already caused me so much pain and heartache that it was embarrassing to admit what had happened.” And suddenly, the flood gates opened and she found herself telling every last detail—from her promise to Declan that she’d be honest with him the night they first said they loved each other to Henry’s visit and her lie and finally to the last argument with Declan.

Disappointment clouded Beck’s green eyes, but he nodded slowly when she finished. “First, let me just say that Henry is an idiot. And I’m glad you told him off because anything else would have made me nut punch
you
.” When she made a little noise, he dropped his gaze between them and shrugged. “Well, metaphorical nut punch. The fact he came here, expecting you to take him back, was an insult to you. Second....” When his voice trailed off, she groaned.

"I’m not going to like this, am I?”

"Probably not, but that’s what I’m here for. Here’s the thing, Vi: I can understand where he’s coming from.” When she opened her mouth to argue, he tucked his finger under her chin and snapped her lips shut. “Just hear me out, okay. I was there when Henry screwed you over last year. I know that if the roles had been reversed, you would have flipped your shit if it had been Declan’s ex-girlfriend at his place and he was telling you a story about it. You told me yourself that he’d reacted impulsively after meeting Henry at your grandparent’s, who knows what they guy was thinking after you lied to him. For all he knew you were over here, tangled up with the D-bag, and not thinking twice about him.”

She sucked in a breath through her teeth. "You know I’d never do anything like that.”

“I know it, and I’m sure he did too—at least in the back of his mind—but I’m sure it was still rough for him.”

“I said sorry,” she said brokenly, her chest clenching when she remembered just how many times she’d said the word. “And what does it say about him if he gets insecure about every little thing?”

"He's not perfect, beautiful. He's allowed to have some flaws, and obviously, this is one of them. You did tell me his last girlfriend cheated on him and he's already not prone to commitment. You have to see how something like this would affect him, especially if he went as far as to say he loved you."

“So what do I do now?”

“I don’t know. You tell me.”

“So ... the point of this conversation was?”

He slid a strand of her hair behind her ear before saying, "To make sure you understood how you might have contributed to this disaster.”

"Jesus, Beck, whose side are you on? Of course I understand, Beck.” Still, she was glad her best friend didn’t coddle her. When it came to analyzing her love life, Beck was good at pinpointing issues and unflinchingly giving her his opinion. Sometimes, that worked in her favor and other times—like tonight—it forced her to see the whole picture, not just what she wanted to see. "I apologized for not telling him the truth, but he still couldn't handle it, so maybe it was for the best. I can't be with someone where I'm constantly worrying if their insecurities will get the best of him. I can't be afraid of making a mistake because he'll break my heart. Mistakes are going to happen."

"He probably saw this as a sign of what might happen in the future. He's obviously still hurting from the cheating girlfriend.”

“I’m not her,” she said stubbornly. “And he shouldn’t have given up on us so easily.”

"I hate to tell you this, beautiful, but it takes two to make a relationship work and two to give up on it. Even if you're only responsible for three percent of the issue, you should take one hundred percent accountability.” Beck stroked his thumb over her cheek. “If he does come back—and you decide you can be with him—you’ll have to figure that out together.”

She released a disgusted snort, but the corners of her lips twisted into a sad smile. "Sometimes I really hate talking to you."

“You need someone to kick you in the ass once in a while. I’m happy to be the one with my boot against your very lovely rear tonight.” Fluffing the pillow under his head, his expression turned serious, before he told her, “I will say this. If he doesn't open up his eyes and see how amazing you are, he doesn’t deserve you. And I’m not just saying that because you’re my friend.”

Her smile was wobbly but a smile nonetheless. "That's what I wanted to hear."

"So, what do you do now?”

She sighed, scared of doing anything. Scared of moving. Right now, she was content to stand still. At least until she had a chance to figure things out. She flopped over on her side, away from her best friend’s expectant green gaze. "Sleep. And then, tomorrow, I’ll think.”

She heard Beck shaking his head behind her. “Alright, Scarlett. I’ll ask you again tomorrow.”

D
eclan threw open his front door first thing the next morning to find his porch occupied by Violet’s best friend. He was so used to seeing Beckett Caldwell dressed like he'd walked right out of the pages of a luxury fashion magazine that he found himself lifting an eyebrow at the other man’s wrinkled jeans and rumpled band tee from a 2004 Yellowcard show.