He placed his hand on her elbow, and he patiently led her to the door.
“I’ll see you next week,” he said. “Let me know if you need anything before then. . . .” It was the same thing he’d said every time since the first time she’d come to see him.
She didn’t have to respond because she was already in the waiting room, the door closing behind her.
Violet tried to shake off the feeling that she’d been played.
Sitting in her car in her driveway, parked far from Dr. Lee’s office, she couldn’t remember why she’d let him convince her it was okay for Gemma and Rafe to be spying on her at her own school.
It seemed they were there to stay. Whether she liked it or not. And she most definitely did not.
Chelsea didn’t seem to mind though. It had been sort of weird to watch her friend in the halls between classes, focusing so much energy on Rafe. Watching as she held one-sided conversations with the less-than-chatty loner and then laughed giddily at his nonexistent jokes as if he’d just charmed the pants off her. It was even weirder though as, by the end of the day, Chelsea seemed to have drawn Rafe out of his shell. Rafe, who preferred to brood and be left alone. Rafe, who hated pretty much everyone.
Violet actually saw him smile at Chelsea. It was small, practically invisible unless you were looking for it, and maybe Violet shouldn’t have been looking at all. But she had been . . . and she’d seen it.
The barest flash of teeth, the stark glint of amusement almost hidden behind his thoughtful blue eyes.
She’d turned away then, ignoring the pang, as the stone that had been there all day settled more heavily in her gut. She shouldn’t care.
So what did she feel? she wondered. Certainly not the warm sense of acceptance she’d felt less than an hour ago, when Dr. Lee had assured her it was all for the best. She glanced at the brand-new bottle of pills she’d picked up from the pharmacy on her way home, wondering if Dr. Lee had somehow managed to drug her while she was at his office.
Whatever the sensation had been, it had worn off now.
She stepped outside, relishing the fact that although it was getting late, summer temperatures still lingered and she didn’t need a jacket just yet. As it grew dusky, the sky was still tinged at the edges with fiery pinks and oranges that found their way up from the edge of the world, clinging to the undersides of the few clouds she could see, making them look like fat, sticky mounds of cotton candy.
“Vi?” She heard her mom call out to her as she slipped through the front door, and even though she’d meant to skulk up to her room and hide, she drew up short, knowing her mom would want to hear all about her first day back at school.
When she came into the family room, she saw her mother curled up on the sofa. “I made you some tea.” She held her own cup, and Violet tried to recall a time when her mom wasn’t drinking hot tea . . . even during the most sweltering days of summer. “It’ll help you relax.” Her mom smiled. “Maybe you’ll even sleep better tonight.”
“That must be some magical tea,” Violet said, a devilish grin finding her lips as she leaned her shoulder against the wall. She watched her mom pour another cup and slide it across the coffee table toward her, inviting her to sit.
“Not magical, just chamomile,” she answered, and Violet studied her mom’s fingernails, the polish beginning to chip and peel. Violet curled her fingers, hiding her own bare nails as she wondered if her mom—or anyone else—had noticed that she hadn’t painted them since her abduction. Since Caine had painted them for her. “And peppermint. It’s good for your sinuses.”
Violet smiled at her mother, shoving away from the wall and joining her on the couch. “My sinuses are just fine, thank you very much.” She picked up the cup and inhaled the steam coming up from it, infused with the scent of mint and the sweet smell of chamomile leaves. She leaned back, putting the cup to her lips and sipping. She didn’t tell her mom that she’d sleep fine tonight, that she had something stronger than tea to tide her over.
“So?”
“It’s good. I’m sure I’ll sleep great,” Violet told her instead.
Her mom scoffed, but her voice was determined. “Not that. School. How was it?”
“Oh,” Violet breathed. “Good.” But she knew what her mom really wanted to hear, so she said it. “It was good to be back.”
She saw the relief—the anxiety her mother had been shouldering—melt away in an instant with that simple statement.
“Rafe was there,” Violet added, trying to make it sound like an afterthought. Like something that didn’t really matter to her one way or the other. “He and Gemma are going to White River now.” She shrugged nonchalantly, hoping she was convincing.
She still felt weird talking about them with her mom. It was bad enough that Violet had attracted the attention of a serial killer, but her mom had wanted her to quit the Center even before then.
Afterward, though, her mom’s opinion had changed.
Afterward, her mom had left the choice up to Violet. All because it had been people from the Center who’d led the police to where the killer had been holding Violet. All because, in the end, they’d been the ones to find her.
Her mom lowered her cup, settling it on top of her lap as she eyed Violet, that burden returning. “Really? They’re at your school? As students?”
Violet nodded, wishing she couldn’t hear the air of disapproval in her mother’s words, echoing her own doubts.