“It didn’t work,” he says with a wink.
“I’m aware. I can’t even break off whatever this is the right way.”
“I’m not a man who scares easily.”
“I was sure the pregnancy would do the trick, but it seems that didn’t even get you to budge.”
Everett moves closer, his warm palm against my cheek. “I don’t think anything could scare me away from you, Violet. Especially not a baby that’s half of you.”
My heart, that felt completely shattered, mends a little. “Everett, what am I going to do?”
He pulls me to the couch and then against his chest. “Well, you don’t have to know today. For now, you can just feel all the shit I’m assuming you’re feeling, and then tomorrow, maybe that’s when you make some decisions.”
I smile, my hand resting on his chest. He is so sweet, and the fact that he is being supportive has my head finally calming. “So you’re saying that you want to debate whatever it is we’re doing tomorrow?”
“Not debate, just not make any decisions now. Besides, tomorrow seems to work well for us.”
Yeah, I guess it does.
“Tomorrow then.”
nineteen
Everett
Violet passed out a few minutes after lying on the couch, and I followed shortly after. Yesterday was a long day in general, but last night really added to it.
First, Mom came to the house after wandering the property, saying she couldn’t find Brutus, and then Violet and Mom saw each other.
It went better than I thought, but I try not to bring new people around her without at least giving her some prior warning.
She doesn’t like surprises.
Neither do I, but, man, I was hit with quite a few in a row.
However, dealing with Mom was so much easier with Violet. Maybe it’s not about my days looking different or worrying about the future, but having someone beside me that matters.
I grab the coffeepot, pouring another cup that tastes like shit compared to Prose & Perk. I think Hazel puts some kind of magic in her beans, because no matter what I try, I can’t get it to taste the same.
Violet is still passed out, so I head over to see my mother.
When I get inside, I can feel the energy is off. “Mom?”
“I can’t handle it!” she yells, and I hear something fall to the floor.
I walk back to where she is and find her pulling everything out of the chest at the end of her bed. “Mom, what are you doing?”
“Where is it? Did you take it, Everett? Where is your father’s jacket? He had it with him. I need it.”
“Which jacket?” I ask carefully, although I know what she’s referring to.
My mother was adamant that, when we cleaned out the main house, my father’s belongings also needed to come with her to the barn. She wanted parts of him to remain with her. We kept a few shirts, pants, and his favorite jacket he wore when working on the farm.
We kept everything in that chest to try to avoid my mother falling apart daily if she saw his things hanging in the closet.
“His jacket. I need it.”
I crouch down next to her. “I’ll help.”
