The Princess and The Jester - A.D. McCammon Page 0,15
and Mia won’t be delighted I’ve been keeping secrets.
“Nope,” she says, shaking her head as soon as I open my mouth. “Don’t you dare say nothing. The tension between the two of you was so hot I nearly came from watching you. Tell me the truth.”
I take a deep breath and nod, dread settling over me like a weighted blanket. “You’re right. There’s a lot I need to tell you. And I will. But not here.”
Chapter Seven
Present
COLE
The material shreds with ease, ripping into pieces as I tear it apart. After Gwen and Mia left, I snuck into her room, needing an outlet for my anger. Though I’d much rather take it out on the football player who gave it to her, his shirt will have to do for now.
She must’ve dug this fucking thing out of the trash and washed it after I left yesterday. It was folded neatly, sitting on top of her dresser. Purposely trying to piss me off isn’t wise.
I smirk at the pile of fabric now in scraps on Gwen’s bed, but my hands continue shaking with rage. She didn’t even tell her best friend about me. Like it’s something for her to be ashamed of. Given the way she chewed up my heart then spat it out, this recent discovery shouldn’t have come as a surprise.
It probably wouldn’t have felt like such a kick to the balls if I didn’t still care about her. I would destroy anyone who hurt her, without a second of hesitation. But that doesn’t mean she gets to treat me like nothing more than a clown here for her amusement. I won’t stand back and let her keep pretending what we had wasn’t real.
I hop on Gwen’s bed and stretch out, letting myself get intoxicated by her jasmine scent. Staying in this house alone all day is not a good idea. I’ve got to find something or someone to keep me occupied until I can deal with Gwen. I slip my phone from my pocket, knowing exactly who to call.
Violet answers after the second ring, releasing a tired sigh before speaking. “You and Arwen really don’t need to take turns babysitting me. I’m fine.”
“Well, hello to you too, Saint,” I tease.
To be fair, she’s probably justified in being a little annoyed with us. We’ve both been hovering since Thatcher left. His lies finally caught up to him, and we were the ones here picking up the pieces of Violet’s broken heart.
She’s always been Thatcher’s girl in our eyes, but it didn’t take us long to grow attached to her. Neither of us expected to care for Violet the way we’ve grown to. Our little saint is special, though. She’s unapologetically herself, with a pure heart. The ugliness in the world hasn’t hardened hers the way it has the three of ours. It’s impossible not to love someone so open and kind.
Arwen and I feel guilty about how things went down with Thatcher. He’s our best friend. It’s been the three of us against the world for years. But Violet is one of us now, and we knew about the secrets he was keeping from her. I feel especially responsible. It’s my fault Thatcher’s dad sent him away to some type of juvenile detention for the summer. I’m the reason Thatcher ended up at Shane’s party. If I hadn’t been so wrapped up in finding my Phantom Girl there, he wouldn’t have ended up beating the shit out of Joey Roberts.
“I’m sorry. Hello, Cole. How are you?” Her tone is flat, but there’s a hint of humor in her voice.
“Better now,” I flirt, imagining the tint of pink forming on her porcelain cheeks.
Violet’s never taken my flirting seriously. Not even during the brief period when I questioned my own feelings for her. But at this point she’s like family to me. I only do it to make her smile.
“Yeah, yeah…” She giggles. “Like I told Arwen this morning, go live your life and stop worrying about me. It’s your day off. Surely you have something better to do than take care of me.”
“Actually, I was hoping you would take care of me. You can be the hot babysitter and I’ll be the horny adolescent boy.”
The sound of her musical laughter eases some of the tightness in my chest. It’s so good to hear it again. The day Thatcher left, Violet was a mess. All thanks to Brandi Roberts and her merry band of whores. I’d never seen an angel cry before,