CHAPTER HUNDRED AND THIRTY-SIX

SPENCER POV

Violet needed to be cared for, just as I needed to care for her. Both needing that special someone to slot so nicely into their broken parts.

      It was beautiful.

      It still is beautiful.

      But this game can’t be all we are, not anymore.

      I pour her a whisky as I pour myself one. “It’ll help calm you down,” I say.

      She manages a smile.

      I take a seat at the table opposite and we sit in a silence no longer simmering with conflict.

      We’re past that now.

My demons have backed away into their shadowy pit, and the girl in front of me no longer looks like her soul is breaking.

      “Tell me about Maggie Connor,” I say. “Not just about what a cow she is, but about why you ever liked her in the first place.”

      “You really want to know?”

      I nod. “I really want to know. It was part of you, Violet. I want to understand why. Maybe that way we can stop it from ever happening again.”

      “It won’t happen again anyway. I’m done with her.”

      I believe her. Her eyes are full of the pain of betrayal.

      I know it’s a tough pill to swallow.

      She takes a moment, spinning the empty tumbler on the table as she clears her head.

      I understand that well enough, because I’m still clearing mine too.

      “I didn’t have anyone,” she says. “I was shy when I started school. I’d never done nursery, or been around other kids before. It was always just me and Mum, and I was scared all the time, worried that she wasn’t coming back.” She smiles sadly. “Mainly because she didn’t come back sometimes. Men, or work, or whatever. She’d leave me with the neighbour. An old woman who smelled of cheese.”

      “Cheese?”

      “Green cheese.” She wrinkles her nose. “She was nice enough but she really stunk.”

      “And Maggie Connor was there?”

      She nods. “Maggie Connor was a bossy boots. I felt so safe with her, because she wasn’t scared of anything.”

      “And she was nice to you?”

      She shrugs. “Most of the time. I’d follow her around even when she was bored of me. She’d play with other kids, and I’d just watch. Waiting until they argued, because she’d argue with people a lot, and make sure I was there to pick up the pieces. I made sure I was useful, just so she’d keep me around.”

      “That’s not friendship, Violet. Not really.”

      “I know that now,” she says. “But I never wanted to see it that way before. I never wanted to look at it. It’s impossible to carry on doing what you’ve always done if you realise it’s full of bullshit and lies.”

      “I get that,” I say. “You wanted it to be real.”

      “Yeah,” she says. “I guess I did.” She spins the glass. “Maggie Connor was always so selfish. She was only really interested in what she wanted. Where she wanted to go or what she wanted to play or who she wanted to fuck. I was just an accessory, like a handbag. She’d tell me stories and make them sound so amazing. I guess she felt so cool knowing I was so not.”

      “Cool means shit, sweetheart.”

      “I think I know that now, too.” She smiles a sad smile at me. “The cooler she seemed, the older she seemed. The more childish I felt, the safer I felt. Same with Mum. Only Mum really couldn’t take care of herself, not around work and all her men's trouble. So I had to be a mum to Mum. A mum to her and a silly little sad friend to Maggie Connor, and somewhere it all got messed up.”

      “Life can get all messed up, Violet. But we can straighten it out again.”

      A tear rolls down her cheek. “I hope so. Because I’m happier than I’ve ever been. I didn’t know what it would feel like to have someone who really loved me. I didn’t know how safe I’d feel with someone who could take care of me.”

      “I feel safe too,” I admit. “I feel safe when I believe I have control over a situation. Over you. But I don’t. I don’t have control over you, Violet, and that’s alright. I shouldn’t ever have control over who you are, or what you want to do. I can support you, I can care for you, but not control you.”

      She doesn’t look convinced, but I am.

Love has to be free. Alive like a butterfly, not pinned to a mount like the specimens I’ve been keeping for so long.

  West’s room was the perfect bell jar. Preserved so perfectly, just waiting for me to fill it with another little girl to replace the one I lost.

      A second chance at the same dream.

      Only no two dreams can ever be the same.

      “I love you,” she says. “I really love you. Not because of what you do for me, but because you’re honest and caring and see everything I want to see in myself.”

      “I love you too, Violet. Not because you’re my little girl, or because we share some weird kink that nobody else understands. I love you because you have a beautiful soul.”

      She smiles so brightly. “I don’t need Maggie Cow anymore.” She says and I laugh slightly.

      I reach for her hand across the table and squeeze. “West’s gone,” I tell her. Clara, too. And I’m ready to let them rest now, Violet. We’re different.”

      “We’re us,” she says. “I want to be us.”

      “So do I, sweetheart.”

      Her fingers look so small in mine. “So, what now?”

“We go to bed,” I tell her. “Tomorrow is a new day.”

      She nods. “I’d like that very much.”