Page 80 of A Violet Obsession

I stiffen with surprise. “What are you doing?”

“Hugging you.”

“But you don’t like—” I don’t even know how to finish.

“You like them.” His voice rumbles against the top of my head. “And you went too many years without them.”

Something in my chest cracks straight down the middle.

I don’t cry, but I savor him holding me, letting his strength and warmth flow through me.

Eventually, he pulls back. “There’s more, isn’t there?”

I nod. “Scott made it clear what would happen if anyone ever found out. I’d go back into the system. And as bad as it was with him…” I shake my head. “He swore it would be worse. So, I did what he wanted. I cut off your family. Did what I had to do to survive.”

His intense hazel eyes search mine. “What else?”

Of course, he knows I’m leaving something out. He’s become my personal lie detector.

“It’s not important.” I swallow past the thickness in my throat. I don’t want him to know this—don’t want him to realize that, even before this past week, just being near me has put the people he loves at risk.

“Come on, Butterfly.” His hand reaches forward, his thumb ghosting over my cheekbone as he catches the tears I didn’t realize were falling.

I suck in a breath and say it in a rush. “He said if I kept talking to Emma, he and Joey would take a ride down to see her. And Scott wasn’t interested in protecting a stranger.”

Something dark moves across Finn’s face.

This time I feel the tears as they fall. “I didn’t want to lose her,” I whisper. “Emma is the best thing that ever happened to me. But I knew right then that I had to let her go. Scott wasn’t bluffing.” I wipe my face with the heel of my hand. “They would’ve hurt her. Maybe the rest of your family, too. Just to get back at me. I couldn’t—I wasn’t going to be the reason something happened to your family.”

Finn’s entire body shudders, and his eyes squeeze shut.

“It’s fine,” I assure him. “I’m fine. It was all a long time ago. It’s over now.”

“Don’t do that.” His voice is gruff. “Don’t say you’re fine when you’re obviously not.” The muscles in his jaw flex, anger rolling off him in waves. “You were a child, given a mountain of shit that would have broken most adults.”

I press my teeth into the tip of my tongue, fighting back a fresh wave of pain. “I was so angry at my parents. For so long. They lied to me my whole life about who I was. They made me into this quiet, careful kid who didn’t draw attention—and I never understood why. I thought there was something wrong with me.” I curl my fingers into his shirt. “Then I find out it was just them being scared someone would figure out they were criminals and take me away.”

Finn shifts closer, and I burrow into his side. Hera chirps angrily and jumps to the floor with a swish of her tail. I’ll make it up to her later. Right now, I need his arms around me. As if he reads my mind, he pulls me tight against his chest. So close I can hear his heartbeat.

“It messed me up for a long time. Not knowing what—if any of it—was real.”

Finn stays quiet for a moment, his hand moving slowly up and down my spine. “What helped? You said you were angry.” he asks.

“Eventually, Dr. Williams. I was in a really bad place after Scott died. I’d lost my scholarship, I had no family, I was healing from my surgery, and I couldn’t sleep. My body couldn’t relax enough. It became obvious after a few years that it wasn’t just going to go away on its own. I needed professional help.”

Finn’s arms tighten around me.

“Trevor felt bad for me. Even though his job was technically over since I was no longer in high school, he looked out for me. About a year ago, he told me about Dawn’s former college roommate. Dr. Williams treated me for free. She was running a study on deep hypnosis and subliminal messaging to treat trauma.” My lips lift for the first time. “It helped. I started sleeping… sort of. Eventually, I got to a place where I could see that my parents were still the same people I’d loved. They made a terrible, selfish choice, and then spent the rest of their lives terrified of it.”

Finn strokes his thumb across my knuckles. In a low voice he says, “So maybe the love was real, but so were the lies. Both things could be true.”

I think about his words as his thumb continues its soothing strokes. “I think so. Humans aren’t one-dimensional. We’re all capable of being different versions of ourselves. It doesn’t mean they aren’t all real.”

His fingers spasm on mine. I try to read his expression, but he bows his head, staring at our joined hands.

A pang hits me as the double meaning of his words sink in. “Do you miss her?”

Finn’s face tenses, but he doesn’t ask who.