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"I'm sorry."

"Not your fault," I whisper, using my hold to gently lift her face so I can brush a kiss across her lips. "I said that to say this— You're special to me, Vi. You have been for a very long time."

Her fingers flex again, and she inhales.

"Sully."

"Don't panic. I won't say it yet. Just know that I do, and that it's okay to accept help, sweetheart. I know you're strong and capable and all the things. I see it in you every day. But it doesn't mean I can't be here for you or that it makes you weak to let me. I need you to tell me when things seem off. Even if it's just a gut feeling. I need you to tell me when you get scared. Just tell me."

A haze brightens her eyes before she blinks and it's gone. She swallows audibly, and I lean down to kiss her again. "Sit down and rest. Sleep if you can to make up for all the wake-ups last night. Jas will be here soon, and she might stay a while."

Violet nods, and I release her so she can move the few steps it takes to get to the couch. She curls up in the corner, and I grab a throw from the back and drape it over her, brushing her loose hair off her face and kissing her forehead before I straighten. She grabs my hand before I pull away.

"Thanks, Sully."

I squeeze her fingers and see her words as a sign of progress. "I'll go make a snack. Stay put."

I leave her on the couch and make my way to the fridge. Several of the guys at the firehouse and I pay a single mom to shop for us. We still have to go get particulars, but twice a month, she shops our lists and stocks the fridge and cabinets.

Since grocery shopping is something I hate to do, it's worth it to me, and I'm grateful because right now, it means I have crackers and cheeses and even some fruit. I add some peanut butter to a cup for protein and then a handful of mixed nuts, trying to get something in Violet that will help sustain her.

She picked at the hospital food, barely eating anything, but whether it was from the taste, her concussion or the worry to blame after everything that happened, I don't know.

I chuckle at my extra efforts in making the plate up for my girl and then head back to the living room. Violet is sound asleep, curled up and beautifully broken with her bruises and scrapes and stitches, the sunshine shining in from the window behind her casting her in a haze of gold.

I could have lost her last night. The concussion could've been worse. She could’ve been⁠—

I turn and take the plate back to the kitchen and wrap it up for when she wakes. Then I go grab a seat at the desk across the room from her where she's in my line of sight. I pull out my phone and call Ty’s hospital room.

Violet will be furious. I know she'll see it as me making decisions for her, and she's right.

But the image of her on the ground, beaten and bloody, terror locked behind her dazed eyes, burns through every reasonable thought I have left that says to wait. To not cross the line.

Let her be mad.

At least mad means still breathing.

Chapter 28

Violet

* * *

When I wake up on Sully's couch, my concussion headache is down to a dull throb and I'm so hungry I could chew my arm off. I blink and stretch my sore body, feeling every tendon and muscle pull painfully from the attack. I imagine it's like the aftermath of being in a car accident where you tense your muscles so much that they're injured. I ache from head to toe and barely manage to bite back a groan of pain.

I hear a soft, quiet clacking and blink, searching for where it comes from. Sully sits behind a desk, his gorgeously handsome face pulled into a frown of deep concentration as he stares at a laptop screen.

My movements draw his gaze, and the slow slash of his smile transforming his face gives me that butterfly feeling in my hungry belly. No man should be that handsome. It isn't good for society. And if I'm honest?

It makes me feel insecure. What hope do I have of keeping a man like Sully when there are so many women out there who don't care one bit whether he's taken or committed? Women who are bold and brazen and far more beautiful?

I know I have to trust him. Trust he is the man he seems to be. But that's a lot of effort for a man in a world where sex is everywhere and monogamy seems to be a thing of the past. All a person has to do is swipe for the next person, and for a woman who doesn't do casual, it's a terrifying realization stacked atop betrayals from the past.

And he's gorgeous. Hollywood gorgeous. Without any effort. He will never lack female attention. Which means being with him requires me to trust his ability to keep boundaries. Do I? Can I?

"Hey, sleepyhead. Feeling better?"

I force a nod and push myself up, wincing at the twinges of pain.