Unbeknownst to their parents, Violet and Cole had a clandestine 9-month relationship before parting ways following Cole's injury, courtesy of Paige. Despite the messy breakup, Violet managed to maintain a positive connection with the Walters, except...
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The gravel crunched beneath Violet's shoes as she made her way up the familiar path to the Walters' porch. The morning sun was bright, almost too bright, and the weight in her chest pressed heavier with every step. Her head still throbbed faintly from the night before, a dull echo of the drinks she'd downed to bury her thoughts, but the real ache sat deeper—buried under everything she wished she hadn't done.
The front door creaked open before she could even knock. Isaac stepped out, hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie, his face unreadable. He leaned against the doorframe, squinting at her like she was already caught doing something wrong.
"You weren't at school yesterday," he said casually, though there was an edge in his tone, the kind he used when he already knew the answer but wanted to hear her say it.
Violet pressed her lips together and nodded, eyes fixed on the porch boards instead of him. "Yeah, I..." she started, fumbling for an excuse.
Isaac didn't let her finish. "Got drunk at that lakehouse." His words cut clean and sharp, no hesitation. "Cole and Jackie are grounded. And you..." He tilted his head, studying her. "You kissed Jay?"
Violet's stomach dropped. Her throat went dry. For a second, she thought about lying, pretending it hadn't happened. But Isaac's stare—steady, unwavering—left no room for denial. She swallowed hard, her voice barely above a whisper. "...Yeah."
Isaac sighed heavily, dragging a hand through his hair. He wasn't angry, not exactly. Just disappointed. And somehow, that felt worse.
"You in trouble with your mom?" he asked finally, though his voice had softened, like he was trying to measure how bad things really were.
Violet shook her head quickly, wrapping her arms around herself as if that could shield her from the shame burning in her chest. "No. She, uh..." Her voice cracked. "She wasn't awake when I got home. I don't even know if she noticed." The sadness in her tone betrayed her, leaking through the cracks she tried to hold together.
For a moment, Isaac didn't say anything. He just looked at her—really looked at her. At the tiredness in her eyes, the slump in her shoulders, the way she was holding herself together with frayed string. And his sigh wasn't just exasperation anymore—it was sympathy.
"Vi..." he started, softer now, like he wanted to take the sting out of the truth.
But Violet turned her gaze away, blinking hard against the tears that threatened. She didn't want sympathy. Didn't deserve it. Not after last night.
Violet tugged at the sleeve of her sweater, her fingers trembling slightly. She didn't want to meet Isaac's eyes, but the words kept tumbling out anyway, shaky and uneven.
"I feel... off," she admitted, her voice low, like she was confessing something shameful. "Like I'm spinning out and I can't grab onto anything. One second I think I'm fine, and then—" She broke off, shaking her head, her throat tightening. "And then I realize I'm not."
