Sweet Little Lies (Dirty Little Lies Duet #2) - J.D. Hollyfield Page 0,58

about your decisions while shutting down the idea of someone else finding love in the same way.”

Dad throws his head back and snorts, dragging his hands down his bruised and bloodied face. “Don’t even say that. You’re not in love with him. That’s fucking ridiculous.”

“No, what’s ridiculous is you!”

“Watch it.” His growl vibrates the floor under my feet.

“No. I hate you! Stay away from me.” I turn on my heel and head toward the front door.

“I’m going with Hazel,” Violet says, following me.

“No, you’re not. You can stay and explain to me—”

“Save it, Heath. She needs me more.” She doesn’t stop at my dad yelling demands and follows me out, helping me into the car. I’m suddenly in shock and running on autopilot. Throwing the passenger door shut, Violet runs around and jumps into the driver’s seat. “Where to?” she asks, pulling away from Gabriel’s house.

“Back to school. I can’t be anywhere near either of them.” She nods, and I hold myself as the tears flow and the devastating reality of what just happened sinks in. I’ve ruined everything.

Dad blows up both our phones the entire drive back to campus. Thankfully, Violet doesn’t answer and allows me the peace I need to wrap my head around what just happened.

“You know your dad. He’s gonna drive up here. He’s not going to let you ignore this.”

I rest my head against the cool window. “I know, but I can’t deal with him right now.” I can’t get the memory of Gabriel’s rejection out of my head. I bang my head against the glass. “Why the hell did my dad have to be there?” Why is life so damn cruel?

“I’m sorry. I should have called him. I could have saved us the visit. Maybe some ER visits. Pretty sure they both have broken noses.” I peek at her, curious why she’s making jokes.

“Aren’t you mad? Concerned for him? He is your man.”

She shrugs. “Nah. He’s a big boy. And maybe this is his karma. He got off easy with you. You could have made our life hell. You could not have given us your blessing, and I could have walked away. He has a lot to be thankful for when it comes to understanding. And who knows, maybe he just needs some time to let the news simmer. It’s definitely a lot to take in. I mean, think about it. Gabriel is even bigger than your dad. He’s probably having to imagine him doing all sorts of nasty things to you. Not to mention, how big he probably is down—”

“Seriously, Violet?”

“Hey, I’m just pointing it out. It sure does explain all your mood swings. The times you were on cloud nine to the times when you looked on death row. Getting it, not getting it—ouch! I’m driving!”

“That’s not helping.”

“Well, beating me up isn’t either. What do you want to do? Go back to the dorms? Go spend a ton of money on your dad’s credit card? I’m not sure there are that many worthy shops on campus, but—”

“I want to get drunk.” I need to numb the pain eating away at me.

“Darn, I thought you’d say that. Daddy Heath doesn’t take too fondly to me drinking.”

I give her my biggest smirk. “Good.”

“Ugh, I also knew you’d say that. Well…drinking it is.”

Violet doesn’t disappoint. She’s never been a big drinker, even before she was claimed and given rules and restrictions by my possessive dad. But tonight, she doesn’t let me down. We head to a local hole-in-the-wall bar and start a tab for the entire bar, courtesy of my dad’s credit card, and she matches me shot for shot. We’ve been at it for well over an hour when someone startles me, grabbing at my shoulder.

I jump in my seat and whip around to see Evan. “Geez, Tyson, don’t hit me.” He laughs and backs away as I lower my fists.

“Oh, sorry, I thought you were going to be someone else.” We have a stare-off, as if he’s waiting for me to say something. “So, what are you doing here?” I ask.

“Wild Wednesday. Drinks are super cheap.” He waves at Violet, and they exchange small talk. I excuse myself to go to the bathroom, a little lighter on my feet. When I catch my reflection in the mirror, I groan. I look like I lost a battle with a beehive. My eyes are puffy, and my face is blotchy from crying. Not to mention, I think I’m drunk. Actually, I am drunk. I grab