Live for You (2 page)

My reply is automatic.
“Yes, ma’am.”

We get out of the truck and
I follow her inside. Nothing has changed here and for that I am
thankful. I need the comfort of sameness. I need the unchanging
world that my Nana lives in.

Forrestville North Carolina
is the epitome of sameness, unlike where I’ve lived for the past
eight years. I live right outside of Nashville, in a community that
knows everyone and everything. The people who live there are
constantly in flux: always changing and improving their looks,
their houses and their spouses.

My parents, Kimberly and
Davis Givens, are an anomaly: still happily married, with a child
on the way. My mother, age
forty-seven
, is five months
pregnant. And it’s killing me inside. I can’t…I won’t deal with the
pregnancy.

Heart aching, I walk to the
bathroom and close the door behind me.

Wallpaper decorated with
tiny red and pink roses line the walls of the bathroom. I wash my
hands in a plain white sink with white and silver knobs. The soap
is handmade and scented with lavender.

I love being here. I’ve
always loved being here. As a child, I told Nana a million times
that I wanted to stay with her forever and be like her. I didn’t
want to sing or do anything else, but sew quilts and make things
for people.

“
Don’t put all your eggs
in one basket, child. You’re liable to drop it, then where you’d
be?” she would say and kiss my head. “But to tell the truth, I
wouldn’t mind the company.”

My reflection catches my
attention. The black liner around my blue eyes is smudged. I rip
the knit cap off of my head, letting it fall to the floor alongside
my duffle bag. My pale blonde and dark purple hair stick straight
up with static electricity. Running a hand through it makes it
worse instead of better. I look like an extra for a futuristic
version of Les Miserables.

Violet Lynn, named for
Country Music Legend Loretta Lynn, would have cared, would have
immediately repaired her makeup and fixed her hair to look
perfect.

But Violet Rae Givens uses
toilet paper to take care of the smudges, then tames her hair with
plain ole water. For once I look my age, like a twenty year old,
not some little girl playing grown-up with bright clothes and
jewelry.

Violet Lynn was a costume
for me. One that I gladly wore and paraded around in, until my
world came crashing down.

“
She’s bleeding out,” the
nurse says.

A bright light shines in
my eyes, blinding me, but I don’t blink. My body won’t
listen.

“
Stay with us,” the doctor
says, but his words are slurred in my ears. I hurt everywhere.
There isn’t a part of me that doesn’t feel raw.

“
Make it stop,” I scream,
but no one can hear me.

Pots clang together and I
almost jump out of my skin. Taking a deep breath, I will the
memories along with the trembling away.

The scent of fried chicken
wafts under the door and my stomach grumbles. Suddenly, I’m
ravenous. Bending down, I shove my hat into my duffle bag, leave
the bathroom with my things and head down the hall. Along the way,
I toss my purse and bag on the bed in the first room on my left. My
room, with its pretty yellow and blue quilt on the bed and lacy
curtains on the windows. Just like always.

Nana is at the stove,
frying chicken in a black iron skillet, as she sings
Victory in Jesus.
My
love for music and singing sprang from her. Growing up, I sang
every chance I got, starting at church.

She turns down the burner
and begins making biscuits. “Fetch me some buttermilk from the
fridge, Vi.”

You can do
this
, I remind myself as I open the
fridge.
Smile and
pretend
, I remind myself as I close it and
grip the carton.
Smile and say that
everything is fine
, I remind myself as
Nana turns to me, her wrinkled face kind and non-judgmental.
Smile and say
—

“
Are you fixin’ to let go
of the milk anytime soon?” Nana asks, her voice teasing.

I stare at her, my mouth
impersonating a fish. Words crowd my mind, then riot down to my
throat. Tears, ones that I haven’t allowed to fall in months,
gather. Finally, I blurt, “I dropped my basket, Nana.”

She takes me in her arms,
buttermilk carton and all. “Don’t we all, child, don’t we
all.”

Chapter Three

Cole

There’s nothing I love
more than grocery shopping at 6:30 am on a Saturday morning,
because someone forgot to buy Kelly’s favorite cereal. And we sure
as shit can’t watch the
Fairly Odd
Parents
without Tasty Chocolate Squares
full of fiber getting all mushy in a bowl of milk.

Seriously, I’m thinking of
getting my junk waxed next, because that would round out my
morning. My jaw cracks open on a yawn and I shove my hand through
my hair.

Kelly tugs on my shirt,
pointing at the box with a unicorn on it. “Please, Cole, I want
Uni’s cereal. Parker never buys it for me, and it’s my mostest
favorite.” She makes her big brown eyes go all soft, her little
lips pouting and making me cave. I’m such a sucker when it comes to
her. Besides, Parker’s still at work, a bouncer for some club down
in Charlotte, so he can’t bust my balls over it.

“
Fine.” I knock the box
into the basket I’m carrying, grab my little sister’s hand and head
to the check-out line.

All but two lanes are
closed, and I breeze past the one that has a chick, with short
blonde hair tipped in purple, flipping through a magazine as she
waits for her turn at the register. I can’t help but notice she has
a nice ass. I stop, then pivot, dragging Kelly behind
me.

Yeah, so sue me. I’m
a
guy
, and we
notice girls’ asses while holding onto to our little sister’s
hand.

Checking out the magazine
she’s holding. It’s one that girls like to read by the lake, with
headlines like
Lynn’s Gone Country…in
Japan?
.

“
Japan,” I hear her
mutter. “Seriously?”

I glance at the cover
again, and this time
Three Positions to
Try with Your Guy
catches my attention.
Hmm. Maybe I should reconsider my hasty judgment of her reading
material. Her fingers move, and then I read
Five Things You Should Never Order on a First
Date.

Yeah, right. I roll my
eyes.

“
Sorry. Next time I’ll
pick
Busty Biker Babes
,” blondie says, peering at me over the top of the magazine.
All I can see is pretty blue eyes surrounded by thick
lashes.

I raise my brows, then
slice a glance at my sister, with a side head nod. Blondie follows,
my sister waves and says, “Hi.”

The girl turns as pink as
the shirt she’s wearing. She shoves the magazine back on the shelf
and stammers out a, “H-hi.” Then she flicks her eyes to me.
“Sorry,” she mouths. And what a mouth. All slick with gloss. Her
pink tongue darts out, licking the bottom. I can’t stop staring at
her lips or stop myself from thinking about all the things she
could do with them.

A throat clears. I shift
my stance, playing off my very bad manners with a smirk and an
uptick of my chin. “S’up?” Blondie is not impressed. Hell,
I’m
not impressed with
my high school move.

Her cute nose wrinkles, the
diamond in it sparkling, as if she’s smelling something foul. Which
in all likelihood could be me, since I crashed on the couch right
after work and I’m still wearing the same clothes.

Awesome.

My little sister jumps up
and down, twisting my arm like I’m one of her dolls. “I’m Kelly
Morgan. I just turned six. This is my big brother Cole Morgan.
Parker, my other big brother, is still at work.”

“
Vi-Rae Givens,” she says
with a smile meant to destroy any man with a thing for blondes and
blue eyes—i.e. me. Dammit, I do not have time to feed this
particular need of mine.
Please don’t be
legal
. “I just turned twenty.”

Son of a bitch.
Is this my lucky day or what? I give her a once
over, a complete dick move, but everything about her appeals to me,
even when it shouldn’t. From her lips to her tits, she’s perfect. I
continue my perusal, taking in the curves and tanned legs that her
outfit doesn’t hide.

“
Don’t I know you from
somewhere?” I ask, then want to groan and disappear. What the hell
is wrong with me? I sound like a dude in the chick flick my last
girlfriend dragged me to see on our “dating anniversary”. Although,
I did get laid for my sacrifice. “Do you go to UNC-C?”

Rae takes a couple of steps
back. “No.” She bumps into an older woman, who turns to face
us.

“
Miss Violet,” Kelly
squeals, jerking away from me.

I wince, used to my
sister’s blood-curdling screams of excitement, but Rae jumps about
ten feet and gasps. Panic registers on her face, eyes all wild and
her head swivels, like she’s looking for an exit.

What the hell?

“
Inside voice, please.” I
recognize Kelly’s Sunday School teacher, Mrs. Violet Givens. Yeah,
so I might not be up on the whole God and religion thing, but
taking Kelly to church seems like the right thing to do.

And it gives me a two hour
break to study, or I don’t know…act like a twenty-two year old and
play Call of Duty on the PlayStation my buddy, Wyatt, let me borrow
while he’d served in Afghanistan. It’s been a week since he’s come
home and he still hasn’t gotten it. Maybe he’s
forgotten.

“
Yes, ma’am.” Kelly steps
back, dimples flashing as she smiles up at Miss. Violet. “Can I
come home with you and play with the kitties today?”

The tired as fuck part of
me wants to say:
please, take
her
. But the responsible part of me, the
part that doesn’t rely on outsiders for help, wins out. “Kelly, you
don’t invite yourself over to someone’s house.”

Miss Violet smiles. “It’s
all right, Cole. I told her last Sunday she could come anytime. And
I’m sure my granddaughter would like the company. She’s visiting
from-”

“
California!” Rae all but
shouts and her grandmother’s brows raise. “Sorry, that was a little
loud.”

Rae looks genuinely
embarrassed and I can’t help but try to make her feel better. “Not
as loud as someone else I know,” I say with a grin, slicing my gaze
to my sister.

Rae flashes me a smile, one
that’s so damn gorgeous I want to get closer to her. That smile
dares me to come closer. So, I step closer.

No time, I silently remind
myself. And since she’s Miss Violet’s granddaughter:
off-limits.

“
Do you play with the
kitties, Rae?”Kelly asks, her curly hair all over the place. It’s
going to be a bitch to brush out later. Moving closer, I run my
hand over it, trying to smooth it down.

“
Sometimes, when the momma
cat doesn’t mind,” Rae answers, her voice pitch perfect.

As if realizing how close I
am, Rae shrinks away from me and I fight the urge to check my
breath. It’s not until we’re standing side by side that I
comprehend exactly how tiny she is. Barely over five feet.
Normally, I’m not into small girls. I like ‘em tall, with big
boobs, hips and round asses.

But
this girl
sets something off in me.
Maybe it’s her size that makes me want to protect her. Or maybe it
was when she panicked when Kelly screamed. Although that’s a crazy
thought, because I don’t know her and there’s nothing in this
grocery store at the ass-crack of dawn to threaten
anyone.

Mrs. Givens hefts her brown
bag of groceries and nods at the cashier. “Hand Lisa that box of
cereal so she can return it to its proper place, then the two of
you can join me and Rae for breakfast. Nothing fancy, just eggs,
grits, sausage and biscuits.”

I open my mouth to protest,
then change my mind at Rae’s look of
oh-no-she-didn’t-just-invite-him. I wink at her, then say, “We’d
love to have breakfast with you guys.”

*** *** ***

Violet

When Kelly shouted Nana’s
name, I almost ran out of the store. For one horrible second, I
thought she had outed me. For one horrible second, I thought the
peace that I had grown used to in the past month was coming to an
end, and that paparazzi would storm the aisles of the Piggly
Wiggly, shoving cameras in my face and asking the same
questions.

Always the same questions:
Why did you get wasted that night? Why aren’t you in rehab? How do
you feel about Callie Hughes marrying Jaxon Hunter?

But now I have some
questions of my own: Why have my managers aka my parents told the
press I’m in Japan? Maybe they’d picked that country, because I’m
not as famous there. Maybe they wanted me caught in a lie, but why
even start when that could backfire on them, too?