CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

The last leg of the drive home of their trip had been done in silence. An insufferable silence that left Rosalie shuffling in her seat. Every few seconds, Violet would glance over to her and Rose would stop, hands gripping the steering wheel. A couple of minutes later she would start again, and eventually, some hours away from Forks, the other girl had placed her arm over Rose's on the gear stick, the movement making her still.

Violet slept most of the way, her chest rising and falling steadily, letting the heavy locket move with her. It looked right, tangling around her red-flecked hair and Rosalie could imagine her wearing it for years to come, never unwinding it from her neck, even when there came another.

Another. Rose had never thought that far ahead. She'd always been pragmatic, able to consider too many possibilities until it trapped her with immobility. But recently she'd fallen into Edward's influence, thinking of those moments. First, the moment in which she'd kissed Violet, feeling so wholly significant that Violet would never forget her. Then, in the future, the moment when they'd part ways and Rosalie would be left to yearn for eternity.

There would be others. Violet was beautifully human. She had the capacity to love and lose and still be whole and hopeful at the end of it. Yet it killed Rosalie to think of such a thing.

The weight of her hand unmoving on Rose's hand felt suffocating.

Violet hadn't moved her hand until the Jeep rolled to a stop and her eyes fluttered open again to land on the sight of her house. Her dad was already in the driveway and Rose watched as Violet hopped out the side and jumped into his hug.

"I hope you girls had a good time," he said, beaming down at her. Rosalie smiled back easily.

"Thanks, sir."

"I don't know how they do it up in that big fancy house of yours but you can call me Robbie," he said, nodding down to her with the warmest of expressions.

"Dad!"

Robbie Green only laughed, squeezing his arm around her shoulder, making Violet's bright pink face land against his chest.

"Thanks for taking care of my little girl."

Rosalie didn't linger. Leaving the Jeep in the driveway of the large farmhouse, she took her own car from where it had waited in the garage and zipped out onto the old backroads, hiding behind the thick cover of the trees from the sun that threatened to peak out. Immediately, she missed the feeling of the large-weight truck beneath her. Her BMW seemed small and inconsequential in comparison.

She took the long way home, rolling down the long, country rodes at a speed she liked to run at. With a deep breath, Rosalie closed her eyes and let the car float under her grasp, foot digging into the accelerator. Her fingers flexed around the steering wheel and she breathed as if she was human, as if it was the last she might take. Imagined that the car could tumble at any moment and she wouldn't be able to climb out of the wreck and just brush it off.

Rosalie reached her home in one peace. She stepped out of the car, letting her face bathe in the cool sun, and wondered if her life might've been easier had the sun been her enemy. That's how the stories had always told it- the creatures of the night, the dark undead, a vampire- was not supposed to face the light of day, the light of God.

Rosalie remembered the pain of first opening her eyes, changed. What little sun flooded into the room burned her eyes, making her press her back into the shadows until the wood splintered beneath her shoulders. The darkness had soothed away the pain for the briefest of time. It would have been easier to stay like that, to fear the day. But ease didn't agree with Rosalie.

Somehow, as she ascended the stairs, she felt Emmett jump on her back before she even saw him. She didn't know where he'd come from or how he'd done it without her noticing, but Rose pushed her brother off with a swift movement. Yet Emmett seemed to land with his arm slung around her neck lazily, pulling her down to his side slightly.

"So..." The tone of his voice alone made Rosalie groan. "How was the romantic getaway?"

"It wasn't a romantic getaway," she said, rolling her eyes and making him laugh.

Alice appeared in the doorway next, Jasper behind her. "What else could it be?"

It was then that she saw the rest of her family, waiting with open faces in the hallway. Even Bella hung by Edward's side. They stared expectantly, waiting for her recount of the trip, for her pouring of emotion, just as Edward had once done.

Could she deny them that?

It was the first time in a long while she'd felt so connected to them. They gathered here for her.

Yet she could not help but feel the temporariness of it all.

"I kissed her," she said, and Alice jumped at her with a squeal, wrapping her arms around her neck with strength enough that could strangle her.

"I'm really happy for you both," Bella said, and Rose could not believe the genuineness of her smile.

"Thank you," she said, leaving them to their chatter for only a moment. When she finally spoke again, they silenced, turning to look at her. "But we've had our summer."

*

Violet took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of her bedsheets. For a moment, she stayed there, face planted in a pillow, something cold resting against her chest. Confusion numbed her mind. Beneath the blanket, she gripped the necklace that hung down her breast, and then sighed, opening her eyes to the light of day.

"Afternoon, sleepy," Celia's voice felt as foggy as her sight did. "Back to the land of the living? I considered calling an ambulance at one point and then you snored."

She blinked again, eyes finding the green paint of the walls. Her room. She was home. In her dream, she'd still been coasting the roads of Alaska in her Jeep, hand resting against Rosalie's. In waking, she saw Celia lying on the other side of her bed, flicking through a magazine, an outfit newly folded against the chair in the corner. Violet groaned when her memories came flooding back in. The party.

"I don't snore," she said, rolling over and covering her eyes with her arms, relishing in the dark. Ever since they'd returned from their travels, she'd been exhausted.

"How do you know?"

"Rosalie said so."

Celia shrieked suddenly and loudly, making Violet turn to whack her with a cushion. The annoying habit had come around when she'd told her friend about everything. Even mentioning Rosalie's name had made her excited.

"You've invited her to your leaving party, haven't you?" The look on Celia's face made her glad she had.

"Of course I have," she said, letting out a huff. "I'm just worried it'll be weird."

"How so?"

"Everyone's going to be there," she began, and when Celia didn't seem to understand where she was going with it, she clarified, "Rosalie isn't exactly everyone."

Her dad's friends, the boys from the Res, and even Leah and Bella were supposed to be coming. Her dad's girlfriend, Allison had made the food and Violet herself had organised the music, picking her favourite records from their collection downstairs. It felt like the perfect way to say goodbye to all except Rose. She was different.

"She loves you. She'll be there," Celia said. How she could be so sure when she knew nothing about Rose, Violet didn't know, but she shook her head anyway.

"Rosalie doesn't love me," she said, turning away to pick up Celia's chosen outfit, using it as a distraction from the words she was saying. "This will all be over soon. Everything. Like it never even happened."

"But of course it happened." Celia dropped the magazine and faced her fully. Violet could see her through the mirror. "You always act like once you leave everything will change. Nothing has to change Vi."

"Just drop it, Cee."

"No. You're acting crazy." Celia stood up, standing behind her with her arms crossed, reminding her of all the times she'd argued with her dad about leaving. "Just because you're going to college, doesn't mean you have to end things."

"Celia, drop it." She turned from the mirror, finding Celia's eyes with her own. They were sad, brown eyes creased by drooped brows. "Please."

"Fine." Celia gave a light sigh, turning her around by the shoulders, and placing a dress in her hands. "Now try your outfit on. You can't let me upstage you at your own party."

Violet pulled on the weakest of smiles and hopped over the suitcase in the middle of the room.

The dress that Celia picked out was purple and asymmetrical, dropping in thin ruffles down to her knees. Along the neckline, pale beads were dotted as decoration. Violet could imagine it with her hair piled atop her head, her feet slipped into the single, nice pair of shoes she owned: a dainty pair of white ballet flats. She hated that she loved it. Once, it had belonged to her mother.

"It's perfect," Violet said, and Celia gave her another shriek and encased her in a hug.

my dramatic girls are back <3

sorry for the wait my loves, I'm really struggling with time and motivation at the moment