Butterflies

Chapter 28

Was it wrong for him to see her? Why did he feel a sense of impropriety going there in his normal attire? Should he have not dressed slightly better? Or is he used to the scrubby jacket and combat boots so much that no other clothes in world could suit him. Suppose Billy could have done better, but what then if he still felt improper? That notion that he had much more to explain than why he never found her. That once just over a week before he was yearning for her, and in that moment those feelings were not the same. Would those change when he saw her again? Would those emotions he felt sat in Violet's room suddenly be squashed as he saw his wife again.

His wife. As a lovely neglected fact was, she was still his wife, even if it had been years. Even if after all that time of him fighting for her, it was more proving to himself he could fight. Would that fact sway him, that he was still married? Or would the new fact that he thought she was dead for years tell him that they could they still be together. There were too many questions running through Billy's mind, and he hadn't even spoken to her yet.

He pulled the same trick he did for Grace, lying in Becca's car and waiting for her to grow suspicious of the open door. Which she did, slowly walking out her white picket fence to the car. Of course it was the perfect placed neighbourhood, and of course she still looked perfect. Billy tried not to look at her but to keep his head in the shadows, though there was a side of him that so desperately wanted to see her face.

"Any places around here without a million bloody cameras?" he said when her head just peaked through the door.

And she stopped for a moment, and he understood her contemplation. However, she picked out a card from the front seat compartment, flashing it to the security camera on her garage, and quickly returned. She drove them through the desolate fake village and to a small bridge hidden by trees, where the moonlight barely reached through. Parking up she got out the car first, crossing to the door by his head, allowing him to step out and shut it behind him.

He was taller than she remembered, and he felt the same way. The similar feeling of familiarity, intertwined with the sense of relief at the reunion. It was never going to be void of emotion, and Billy felt he had to do a double take just to realize he was truly looking at her. The woman he loved for so many years. Really alive, really breathing and taking small steps back just to read his face. A short laugh. A smile. All she could make out before pulling him into a hug and letting out a sob into his shoulder. One hand was around her waist and the other on her head, Billy remembering that same feeling.

As she pulled back he made an effort not to stay too close, as his head pounded with the purple and bleach blonde. Becca's hands rested either side of his face, and he wanted to remove them, wanted her to just know why he couldn't feel like he could touch her, but her smile was too much to turn down.

"Are you okay?" He asked "did he hurt you?"

"No," she said, drawing her hands away from his face, "I'm okay, I'm fine."

"I thought you were dead," Billy whispered, "I stopped looking. I shouldn't have stopped."

Refusing his words, Becca shook her head, "I couldn't call anybody. I can't imagine what it must've done to you. I'm sorry," her hand was back to his cheek before she went into another hug, "I'm so fucking sorry."

"No, you've done nothing wrong," he reassured her, holding his gaze on the trees passed her

And he held her. He held her because he was struggling to look at her, with her eyes and her smile and her hair that was just as soft. It was piercing, the purple that ran in his brain, like Violet herself had entered his body and disallowed any deterrence from her. And on any other day he would allow it, to let himself be consumed by her. But in that moment he felt so wrong, so out of place.