For Violet.”
I swallowed. I wasn’t expecting this, but the pain in his voice made me want to do anything for him. I wanted to smooth the lines on his face with my thumb. I wanted to kiss away the tears now freely flowing down his cheeks. I wanted to swallow his painful words with my mouth and internalize them.
“Okay,” I promised. I would have done anything for Chase at that moment.
Relief washed over his face, and the manic look in his eyes dissipated with my agreement. He threaded his fingers through my hair and leaned into my forehead.
“I knew I could count on you, Breeze,” he whispered softly. “Breeze,” he repeated slowly as he brought his lips to my forehead and kissed me gently. He kissed me again and again, trailing kisses down my face, toward my mouth. As soon as his lips brushed mine, he was transformed. He parted the seam with his tongue and ravaged me. All traces of tenderness gone. He claimed what was his and tasted me greedily.
Using the hand that was still wrapped in my hair, Chase pulled down, exposing my neck. He tore his mouth from mine, licking and biting as he explored the curve of my neck. Small moans escaped my lips every time his teeth dragged across my skin.
“Tell me you need me,” Chase commanded, his voice thick with lust.
In my haze of desire, I didn’t answer fast enough. He pulled my hair harder and repeated himself.
“Tell me you need me.”
“I need you, Chase. I need you,” I whispered.
Satisfied, Chase released my hair and traced my neck down past my collar bone and to my breast. He moved his thumb across my nipple, over the silky fabric of my dress. My dress. The dress that I chose to wear to Violet’s funeral. Chase’s sister’s funeral.
“Chase. Stop,” I breathed, snapping him out of his frenzy. He looked confused for a moment, but then the realization dawned on him.
“I have to go,” he said. “I need to be at the reception for my parents.”
“Go. I’ll catch up.”
I didn’t know how I felt or how I was supposed to feel. I’ve wanted Chase Jones for as long as I can remember. But I had always envisioned us going on double dates with Violet, making out by a bonfire at a beach party, and surfing together.
I never imagined that grief over Violet’s murder would lead us to our first kiss.
I got dressed for school with a pounding head and exhaustion in my soul. My parents refused to let me spend another week wallowing. I’d already missed a month of school, and even though my teachers sent my work home so I could stay on track, the school was eager for me to return. I couldn’t do distance learning forever.
I never caught up to Chase. I couldn’t stand going to Violet’s funeral reception with his taste on my tongue and a sick fire between my thighs. Instead, I went home and sobbed in my pillow, and I didn’t stop until Mom walked up to my bed and slipped under the covers beside me. I never told her what had happened. I couldn’t even speak the words out loud. She said nothing, just stroked my cheek and cried with me. I didn’t deserve her kindness. I was a monster.
Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.
Kissing Chase was the worst thing I could have done. At first, I gave us both excuses: we were hurting, he didn’t know what he was doing, I was lost in emotion, we were sympathetic friends seeking comfort. But none of those excuses made what we did right. I kissed my dead best friend’s brother. And I hated myself for it.
I dreaded going to school. I couldn’t imagine walking down the halls without Violet at my side. I didn’t want to sit in Mrs. Zeeler’s English class without her twirling her hair and sitting at the desk next to me. I didn’t want to take notes, knowing Violet wasn’t there to steal them from me to copy later. I didn’t want to complain about the lunch lady without Violet picking at her salad. I didn’t want to see Chase at his locker without Violet there to pester him.
I didn’t want to do much of anything without my best friend.
But time was a heartless bitch. It moved on without care. The island gossiped and spread rumors about her death, but they still went about their day. Routines were picked back up. The sun continued to pulse like the broken