Chapter Text
This was bad.
This was really, really bad.
The water was so much deeper than Violet expected. Her legs pumped desperately against the current, but she was barely keeping her face above water, even though her toes dragged along silt and rock with every kick. Thick, waterlogged clothes, heavy boots, her pack stuffed with food and camera equipment — it was all dragging her down. The cold bite of the water sapped at her strength; icy tendrils chilling her to the point of pain, drowning out any other sensation.
“You’re almost there, Vi!”
That sounded like Rhiannon. But was she close? Violet wasn’t sure. She'd only been a quarter of the way across when the log their party had opted to use as a bridge cracked apart beneath her feet and threw her into the freezing current without warning. Her eyes were scrunched shut to keep the water out of them. Thunder rumbled overhead.
She was tiring. Her muscles burned; joints and ligaments screamed. She couldn’t keep kicking her legs.
Was this how she would die? Trying to cross a creek in fucking Arkansas of all places? What a way to go.
“For fuck's sake, Violence, take off your pack!” The voice barely reached her over the roaring of the creek, swollen by unexpected rainfall. Only one person in this godforsaken group called her that. If she didn't know any better, she would have thought he sounded scared.
Violet hesitated. Doing that might be just as bad as drowning. They were in the middle of nowhere, miles from any kind of civilization, and the temperature would undoubtedly fall below freezing again tonight. Her pack had everything — her medicine and food, her braces, her tent, her sleeping bag and dry clothes.
But the hesitation didn't last. Possibly freezing to death was better than certainly drowning.
It was hard trying to get her arms out from the straps while still keeping her head above water, but she managed it, gritting her teeth as her stiff shoulders protested the way she contorted herself to free herself. A small groan of pain leaked through her clenched teeth when she felt the left one pop out of place, but she shoved the discomfort into her mental box, locking it away with a will of steel. Dealing with the pain could come later.
As soon as the weight fell away, she was able to kick harder, could give herself a little more room to breathe. But when she opened her eyes, Violet cursed — she was certainly not almost there, as Rhiannon said. She was barely halfway across. Her pack, buoyed by the dry bags inside to keep her belongings water-free, floated down the creek in the direction they'd come from before disappearing down a bend.
Rhiannon stood on the other bank, pack at her feet, and Violet realized she was planning on going in after her as she watched her friend begin to shuck off her boots, then her outer layers. “Don’t!” Violet yelled, and Rhiannon stopped in her tracks, midway through stripping off her down puffy. “Stay there, I’m fine!”
“You’re not a very good liar, Violence.”
The low voice was way closer than she expected, and Violet nearly yelped out of surprise when her least favorite person in the world swam out in front of her, his own pack nowhere to be seen.
“I’m not lying.” She absolutely was. “I don’t need your help.”
He raised a brow. “Are you sure about that?”
“Absolutely.” The water was frigid, but Violet’s tone was downright icy. The calm way he looked at her now only reinforced her certainty that she'd imagined the fear in his tone before.
Something flashed across his expression, and it looked suspiciously close to amusement, but it was gone faster than Violet could blink. He cocked his head to the side. “Then why aren’t you moving?”
Violet growled, but it hardly sounded menacing. It wasn’t from a lack of trying, that was for sure. But her struggle to keep herself afloat before ditching her pack had taken substantial effort, and now it took everything she had left to keep the current from pulling her downstream. Her muscles were screaming at her. Limbs were beginning to go numb from the cold. And that said nothing about her shoulder, which would be no small source of pain once her adrenaline receded. Violet had been in pain even before this ill-fated stream crossing; had been waging a war against her racing heart and spinning head and aching joints since the start of the trip. Today had been marginally better, but now, the last dregs of energy were seeping from her body, leaving her cold and foggy-headed. She'd take the nauseatingly high heart rate over this any day.
But worst of all — Violet felt weak. That was something she hated; something she had worked for years to disprove to anyone who dared doubt her.
But what she hated even more was the knowing way this aggravating man, barely an arm’s length away, looked at her — as if he could see her exhaustion and the mental and physical battle she’d been waging against herself for the last two days. As if he could see it all, and understood it.
Violet opened her mouth, but couldn’t find the right words to dismiss his observation. Every possible answer felt like an admission of something she didn’t want to admit, least of all to him. He had everything Violet couldn't have — her dream job; the ability to conquer any trail, any challenge; a parent who believed in and trusted his abilities. Admitting her body's betrayal would mean admitting aloud that she could never measure up to him, no matter how hard she tried, and she couldn't bring herself to do it.
When no sound left her, he let out a breath before murmuring, “I’m going to touch you now, ok? Just relax,” and Violet couldn’t bring herself to argue back.
“I still don’t like you,” she whispered as a strong arm wrapped around her torso and he began pulling her toward the opposite bank with an ease she would have killed for. The heat Violet knew he threw off like a blazing furnace was barely noticeable through the stabbing chill and their soaked clothes.
The warmth of Xaden Riorson’s breath against the shell of her ear felt like a ray of hope she wanted to run from. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Violence.”
One Month Ago
Snow glittered in piles on either side of the sidewalk outside the coffee shop two blocks from Violet’s apartment. It was a frigid December morning, but the sky was a brilliant, flawless blue as she hustled down the narrow strip of concrete, past deserted bus stops and rows of stores, toward Morraine Coffee Co.
The blizzard that swept through only a few days before, blotting out the sun and forcing the city to grind to a standstill as snow fell in furious sheets seemed like an ancient memory now. She sighed happily when she stepped into the toasty shop, stripping off her hat and gloves in an instant.
Rhiannon waved to her from a small table in the corner, right up against the large windows overlooking the street. “Hey, stranger,” she greeted as Violet settled across from her, still stripping off her layers of winter clothes that swiftly became too warm for the heated shop. “Hey, Rhi.” Violet grinned. She almost cried from joy when she realized two mugs were sitting on the table, one of them clearly for her, judging from the tea bag tag draped over the rim of one.
Violet couldn’t drink coffee. Caffeine sent her heart rate skyrocketing and made her already-nasty dizzy spells that much worse — a fact Rhiannon had taken to heart after their first overnight backpacking trip together, long before either of them became known for their backpacking videos on YouTube. Rhiannon had been in charge of bringing their food but only brought caffeinated coffee, leaving Violet without a warm beverage to enjoy the following frigid morning. Though she had insisted it wasn’t Rhi’s fault — she, after all, had not explicitly asked her friend to bring tea or decaf coffee — her long-time friend felt enormously guilty, and never forgot about it again.
Rhiannon cocked an eyebrow. “So, want to spill?”
“Spill?” Violet frowned, reaching for the tea Rhiannon slid in her direction. The warmth of the liquid inside warmed her fingers, nearly numb from Denver’s frigid December cold. The scent of chamomile wafted up from the mug. “You’re the one who had something to share, remember?” Rhiannon had called her the night before, breathless from excitement, asking if she was free the following morning. She refused to say more, only that It’s big news! Promise!
Rhiannon waved her hand dismissively, then flicked one of her locs back over her shoulder. “We’re getting there.” There was a mischievous glimmer in her dark eyes that Violet didn’t particularly like as she dropped her voice to a pseudo-whisper. “Want to tell me what the deal is with that video?”
Violet disguised her unhappy groan by raising her coffee to her lips and taking a long draw. The liquid scalded her tongue, warming her to the core as it slid down her throat.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she lied. Violet knew exactly what she was talking about; knew exactly which video and even which part of that video she was talking about.
“Liar.” Rhiannon leaned forward. “You’ve been holding out on me, Violet Sorrengail. Now. Spill.”
Her coffee cup settled back on the tabletop, accompanied by Violet’s sigh. “I never would have included it if I’d known that was all anyone would focus on.”
It being clips of her and Xaden Riorson getting in each other’s faces as they argued about Violet hiking the rest of the Snowgrass Loop solo. She’d run into Xaden and his friends — the faces of the How Not To Die Outdoors backpacking channel on YouTube — at her planned campsite on a two night trek she’d embarked on in the Goat Rocks Wilderness in Washington nearly three months ago. But she hadn't posted the video until last week, having only recently gotten around to editing the footage.
She knew them, of course. While her own channel — just her name, she wasn’t very creative — had a following that was a drop in the bucket compared to the nearly 200,000 How Not To Die Outdoors had, the backpacking content creator community was relatively small. It wasn’t the first time she’d crossed paths on trail with the group, either.
It wasn’t the first time she’d crossed paths with Xaden either, though she seemed to run into him way more off trail. If it were up to her, she would never run into him at all.
Violet had been backpacking since she was a kid, tagging along with her older siblings — and her father, before he’d gotten sick — as they struck out on the hundreds of trails in the mountains outside Denver despite her easily injured joints and bones.
She never let the multitude of acronyms that defined most other aspects of her life — EDS, POTS, IBS — stop her from doing this one thing she loved.
After years of trial and error and thousands of trail miles, Violet knew what she was doing and what her limitations were. She was confident in her ability to survive in the backcountry, solo.
That hadn’t stopped Xaden from taking issue with her venturing deeper into the wilderness on her own.
The weather during the shoulder seasons are unpredictable around here, Violence, he’d warned. Then he’d smirked, adding: Don’t you think you should’ve packed some warmer gear? That pack of yours looks awfully light.
In response, Violet had told him to fuck right off.
“Are you serious?” Rhiannon hissed, looking at Violet like she’d grown a second head. “You randomly cross paths with the people who run the most followed backpacking channel on YouTube on a trek, include a clip of you and one of them looking cozy, have your channel blow up afterwards, and you’re telling me you regret it?”
Violet absolutely regretted it. Party because, in her view, she and Xaden Riorson weren’t looking cozy — they were on the verge of biting each other’s heads off. But mostly she regretted it because now all anyone commented about on her videos were questions about him — whether they were together, whether he would show up on her channel again, whether he’d been paid to promote her channel. It was exhausting, annoying, and most importantly, a huge distraction from what she wanted to talk about, which was how to make hiking and backpacking easier for people who struggled with hiking and being outdoors like her.
She hadn't thought much of it when she included the clips in the video. Now she wanted to go back and throttle her younger self.
“Yes,” Violet said, simple and to the point. “He’s a jackass.”
“A hot jackass,” Rhi muttered. Scowling, Violet jabbed her foot into her friend’s shin beneath the table, but she merely laughed. “Oh, come on, Violet. Even you have to admit things would have ended badly if you hadn’t let him tag along.”
Violet would never admit it — not out loud at least. Because after she told him to fuck off, he wouldn’t let up, until Violet finally told him to come along with her if he was so worried. She’d been planning on using it as an excuse to gloat in his face when the weather stayed as mild as planned, her gear kept her nice and cozy, and she completed her trip without issue — except the weather didn’t stay mild, her gear wasn’t warm enough, and even Violet knew that she likely would have been in deep shit had Xaden not been there.
“—let. Earth to Violet.” Rhiannon was waving a hand in front of her face, only stopping when Violet refocused on her. She smirked. “Are you blushing?”
“I’m not.” But her cheeks were too warm, her answer too rushed.
“Liar,” Rhiannon said again. “So, are you going to tell me what happened between you two that didn’t end up in the video? Because there was no way your gear was warm enough for the storm that blew through.”
“Later,” Violet said, though she had no intention of saying anything else unless held at knife point. The truth was way too embarrassing. “Is that why you called last night? To trick me into talking about my least favorite person?”
Rhiannon scoffed. “We’ll come back to that obvious lie later. That isn’t why I called, though.” Her eyes sparkled as she leaned in. “Dory wants to sponsor my videos!”
“Seriously?” Violet’s jaw dropped. Then she broke out into a huge grin. “Rhi, that’s fantastic.” Dory Equipment was a major backpacking gear outfitter, known for its well-made tents and sleeping bags that still managed to be pretty lightweight. Violet’s tent and sleeping bag were all Dory products — though she preferred a slightly heavier, thicker sleeping pad from a different company that cushioned her hips and joints better.
But the excitement faded from her friend’s face just as fast as she leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms over the thick wool sweater Violet knew her partner Tara handmade for her as a Christmas gift last year.
“Don’t get too excited yet,” Rhiannon winced, looking at Violet guiltily. “I need a favor.”
Violet blinked. “Is there a reason you look like you’re preparing for me to get mad at you?”
“Please don’t kill me. Seriously.”
Her next sip of tea was lukewarm. Violet couldn’t imagine what Rhi could possibly ask her that would require a preemptive request not to commit murder.
Rhiannon took a deep breath. “I need you to go on a trip with me to Arkansas.”
Violet blinked. “To… Arkansas?” She really wasn’t following now. “Sure, but what the hell is in Arkansas? And I still don’t get why I’d want to kill you for that.”
Rhiannon took a deep breath. “The Ozark Highland Trail, in the Ozark National Forest. Super isolated, but not snow-covered the way trails here and the PNW are at this time of year. Dory wants me to do a video hiking through the Hurricane Creek Wilderness section of it next month with a bunch of other backpackers they’re sponsoring. I guess it's for a trial run, to see if they want to do a long-term sponsorship with me, but they want you to come too.”
“Me?” Violet pointed at herself, incredulous. “You have, like 100,000 subscribers. I’ve got, what, 15 or 20k? Why the hell would they want me?” Rhiannon wouldn’t meet her eyes, and Violet’s narrowed suspiciously. “There’s something else isn’t there?”
“Well, other than me, the other channels doing the video are Ridoc and Sawyer Go Backpacking… and How Not To Die Outdoors.”
She was silent for a moment before cursing. “Well, fuck.” Violet slumped back in her chair. She was good friends with Ridoc and Sawyer, two other backpackers with a growing following, but they weren’t the problem. “This is because of the video with Xaden, isn’t it? That’s why Dory wants me.”
Violet might have way fewer subscribers, but The Video, as it was now known in her head, was viewed more than most of Rhi’s videos and still growing. It wasn’t just outdoor people watching either. She’d seen clips of it pop up on TikTok, posted by BookTok influencers who compared the interaction to their favorite book couples, which brought a new level of mortification to the experience. A local news reporter reached out to her last week, asking if she’d do an interview about how the video had gone viral — which Violet promptly rejected.
“Probably. They didn’t say it outright.” Rhiannon’s heaving sigh sounded like it was dragged from the depths of her soul. “You can say no, Vi. I won’t blame you if you do — I know you and Riorson don’t get along. I already told Dory not to get their hopes up and that I wouldn’t pressure you. I would have turned them down outright if it wasn’t for the fact that this could be a big opportunity for you too.”
Violet fiddled with her mug. The chamomile tea had gone cold. It was a big opportunity, even if it was one conditioned on spending time around someone she wanted to ignore on a good day and throttle on a bad one.
“Was my participation a condition or a request?” she asked after another beat of silence.
Rhiannon bit her bottom lip, grip on her own coffee cup tightening. “Heavily implied condition.”
Which meant if Violet said no, her best friend would lose out on a major sponsorship deal. And in a niche activity like backpacking, that could seriously limit her in the long run. But if she said yes, she’d have to spend only god-knew-how-long on trail with a man she found to be insufferable — not to mention unfairly beautiful to the point of distraction.
That didn’t leave her much of a choice.
“Ok.” Violet nodded. “I’ll do it.”
Rhiannon perked up, eyes widening. “Are you sure? I really don’t want to force you if you don’t feel comfortable.”
“Rhiannon Matthias.” Violet cocked her head, leveling her best friend with an admonishing stare. “How many times have you done something similar for me?”
“That’s hardly compar—”
“I’ll answer for you: More than enough times for me to suck up my pride and put up with Xaden’s presence for a few days.” Violet had received sponsorship offers before, mostly small ones, but almost all of them had been contingent on her doing the video with some of her more visible associates, as one brand told her. Rhiannon always agreed to help, and she never complained.
Her best friend blinked, then stood suddenly from her chair, the legs scraping loudly across the coffee shop’s wooden floor. She marched toward Violet, then wrapped her arms around her shoulders, squeezing tight. “I fucking love you, you know that? I owe you, like, a hundred freeze-dried meals for this one.”
Violet laughed, patting Rhi’s sweater-clad arm. “Make it 150 and we’ll be even,” she joked.
“I’ll take it under advisement.” Rhiannon released her, beaming. “Oh, I forgot to mention — Dory said they’d pay you for any content you make for the trip, too, if you agreed.”
Violet looked at her friend like she’d grown a second head as she returned to her seat. “Why the hell didn’t you lead with that?”
“Like I said,” Rhiannon shrugged, “I didn’t want to pressure you. I know you dislike Xaden enough to turn down money anyways.”
They spent the next thirty minutes hashing out the details. Dory wanted them to try out their newest lightweight backpacking tents and sleeping bags on a three night, four day trek through remote wilderness, dozens of miles from any real civilization. That in and of itself was not too different from many of Violet’s backpacking trips. The elevation wasn’t an issue either, especially compared to the trails in the mountains nearby that she frequented. The issue was the weather. The northern region of the state, where the trail wound through, was notorious for its swiftly shifting weather conditions, with forecasts regularly changing at the last minute as a result. It could be 75 degrees during the day before dropping to 25 the following one, only for the temperature to rebound to 50 the night after that. Rain or snow could come out of nowhere.
“Remind me why Dory is insistent that this is the trail they want us to go on?” Violet questioned as she trailed after Rhiannon back into the winter cold. “Sounds like a nightmare to plan for.”
Rhi sighed, adjusting her bag on her shoulder. “I think that’s the point. They want to show that the tent can ‘stand up to anything that gets thrown at it.’” She lowered her voice in a poor imitation of whoever she’d been speaking with at the company.
Violet frowned. “I guess.”
They began moving toward the nearby bus stop. “Any plans for the rest of the day?” Rhiannon asked.
“I think I’m going to run to Basgaith Outdoors.” It had gotten colder than expected on Violet’s last trip, and her water filter froze overnight. She’d reserved a new one, and she got a text saying her order was ready on her way out the door that morning. “I’ve got a couple things I need to pick up.”
“You could just say you want to see Xaden, you know.” Rhiannon said slyly, jabbing her good-naturedly with an elbow. Violet glowered.
“He has absolutely nothing to do with it.”
“Sure he doesn’t.”
“I just need a new water filter.”
They both slowed to a stop next to Rhi’s car, which was parked only a few feet from the bus stop Violet would take toward her destination. Her friend raised an eyebrow.
“You mean, the water filter you can easily buy online and have shipping to your apartment?” she teased. “You aren’t fooling me, Violet Sorrengail. He’s got that cute nickname for you and everything.”
Violet was all but certain she would crack a tooth from how that godforsaken nickname made her grind her teeth in annoyance. “It’s not cute. It’s annoying. Sue me for wanted to support a local business.”
“The two things are not mutually exclusive,” Rhiannon said in a sing-song voice, grinning as she clambered into her car.
Violet bid her best friend farewell with a raised middle finger.
Violet had to work up the courage to enter the store.
Basgiath Outdoors had practically been her second home growing up. She grew up helping stock shelves, listening to the tales of local outdoor adventurers who came in to resupply or replace equipment, watching her dad advise customers on purchases. The store was Asher Sorrengail’s pride and joy, something he inherited from his mother and planned to pass down to one of his children. Neither Brennan nor Mira were particularly interested in running and helping with the family business, though. But Violet loved Basgiath. She grew up planning to take it over once her father retired, to own it and continue the legacy until she grew old as well. She had no other plan for herself.
Then, eight years ago, he’d gotten sick.
Luckily, it wasn’t fatal, but that didn’t make ME/CFS any less of a bitch. Her father had gone from an active outdoors man to being mostly home bound, practically overnight. And while his positive attitude remained unwavering, Violet knew how much it pained him to sell the store to his longtime-friend.
Unfortunately, that longtime friend came with a son, and that son also happened to be a royal pain in Violet’s ass.
The bell hanging over the door jingled when she pushed it open. The interior barely had changed from her childhood to now. The log cabin-style walls still made the space feel warm and inviting. Row upon row of hiking clothes, jackets, and more littered the shop floor, the heads of the one or two browsing shoppers barely visible above them. There was still an arrow embedded in the vaulted wood ceiling overhead from the time Mira decided to test out a new hunting bow Asher had stocked in the store when Violet was eight.
The shop’s counter, however, was deserted — something Violet’s father never would have allowed when he still owned the store. It's something she wouldn't have allowed either, had she been able to inherit the shop as planned. There was a part of her that still resented her father for not letting her drop out of college to take over for him; to let her keep the shop in the family.
Instead of the store she'd spent her whole life learning to run, all Violet gained was a deep seated dislike for the man who now ran it in her place.
Standing awkwardly in front of the open door, she briefly wondered if getting the new water filter was worth it. Coming back when someone else was on duty was an option. She didn’t get the chance to fully consider the option before a voice nearly made her jump out of her own skin.
“How long are you planning on standing there?”
“Holy shit,” Violet gasped, jerking away from the door and moving deeper into the warm store. Xaden stood in the open doorway when she whirled around, his arms crossed over a black Henley. “Do not sneak up on me like that!”
At this, the corner of his mouth twisted up into an irritating smirk. “I’m not the one who was blocking the door, though.”
Violet didn’t have a good argument to counter him. So she changed the subject. “I have an order to pick up.”
“Why else would you be here, Violence?” He raised his scarred eyebrow. “You only tolerate me because I’m gate keeping the water filters you keep forgetting to keep warm overnight.”
“'Tolerate’ might be too kind of a description,” Violet said sweetly. It was the best retort she had. The number of water filters she’d needed to replace because she forgot to keep it close to her body overnight during shoulder season easily required two hands to count. She blamed how deceptively warm it could get during the day.
Xaden let out a short, sharp huff of a laugh, but it contained no warmth. He finally stepped all the way inside, shutting the door behind him. It cut them off from the frigid, gusting wind that had left Violet's cheeks flushed in the twenty feet that separated the shop's front door from the bus stop. His gaze flicked over her once more before he made to move past her.
Violet took a step back, preferring to have the cluster of hangers carrying puffy black jackets dig into her back instead of risking coming into physical contact with him as he moved past her. She watched, unmoving, as he paused to pick up a bundle of freeze-dried meals that had fallen from its shelf before continuing onward. Violet scowled, glaring at the packaging in his hands like it had wronged her. She envied the way he could make even that look graceful. Compared to Xaden, she often felt as though she was like a fish out of water.
He called over his shoulder as he ventured deeper into the store, “Aren’t you coming? That water filter doesn’t have legs, you know.”
“I’m pretty sure it’s your job to bring it to me, the paying customer.” But Violet began to move anyway, following him toward the door she knew led to the storage room.
“That implies that you ever have to pay for what you buy here.” The door opened on squeaky hinges, and Xaden held it open for her with one hand. But with how the door was positioned, she had to duck under his arm to go in. It forced her to brush against him, to get close enough to smell that addictive minty scent she’d bottle if she could. She was pretty sure he was smirking when he finished his thought. “Which you don’t.”
Violet rolled her eyes. When Fen Riorson bought the store from Asher with the explicit promise to keep it going, it was done as more of a favor than a legitimate business acquisition. The Riorson family already owned a successful chain of outdoor equipment stores across the West, and he had no need to add his college roommate’s store to his portfolio, especially since there was a Riorson-owned store only a few blocks away.
But Fen hadn’t used the opportunity to undercut Violet’s father’s pride and joy. As much as Violet hated to admit it, the store was doing just as well under the Riorson family’s ownership as it had when Asher ran it. Perhaps that was why her father refused to ask his longtime friend to sell it back to her — but there was also a small part of her that wondered if the real reason was because he didn't think Violet was up to the task for running Basgiath. The possibility stung more than having her life's plans uprooted in the span of a few weeks.
More specifically, Basgiath Outdoors was doing just as well under Xaden's management. That was what Violet really hated admitting. Not only did he have a wildly successful YouTube channel with his friends, but he did it on top of running her father's former business, all while preparing to take over his own family's outdoor empire. And he made it all look so damned easy. If he wasn't so irritating, Violet would have called him perfect.
But he was irritating, and that pretty much ruined the image.
"Water filter, please and thanks?" Violet shot back.
Her eyes wandered the room, once the site of many a late study session after shifts in the store. The storage room was impeccably organized, as always — it looked identical to the way it always had. Shelves piled high with new sleeping bags, tents, sleeping mats of all kinds, hiking gear, and pretty much anything anyone might need to survive outdoors lined the room, barely visible in the shadows that the shop floor's light streaming through the open doorway didn't make much headway in eliminating.
Xaden let out a breath, somewhere between a sigh and a laugh. A moment later, Violet squinted as the overhead lights came to life, blinking rapidly as her eyes readjusted.
"Look at you — I was beginning to wonder if you have manners," he drawled.
"I have plenty of manners. I just don't waste them on you."
His responding huff sounded even closer to a laugh this time. Violet didn't turn, but she could feel his presence at her back. He didn't need to touch her to tell her he was drawing closer — she was all too aware of him, all the time; her mind honing in on Xaden like a sailor did a lighthouse on a stormy night. That was why she didn't startle when he brushed past her, his chest skimming the top of her back as he maneuvered around where she blocked the narrow pathway deeper into the storage room. The brief, barely noticeable contact left lingering sensation, however; made her skin tingle and burn beneath her sweater. He radiated heat unlike anyone Violet had met before, and she could feel it now, through her own thick winter clothes.
Memories of cold, unforgiving wind; of whispered apologies; of teeth dragging against the side of her neck; of strong hands biting into her hips; of the scent of mint and sweat and pine forced their way to the forefront of Violet's mind. She sucked in a quick breath.
"Sorry," Xaden murmured, so quiet Violet barely heard. His voice was close, like he'd bent down to whisper in her ear. The rough timbre made her shiver, images of the last time he'd been this close to her flashing through her mind despite her desperate attempts to force them away.
He was gone before she could open her mouth to reply, venturing deeper into the storage room without looking back. Violet stared at his retreating back wordlessly as he stopped near the end of the rows of shelves, forcing herself not to think about how she knew what he looked like beneath his black shirt — how she knew, and both didn't want to know and wanted to trail her hands over all that tanned and inked skin again in equal measure.
There was one, inescapable truth that Violet was slowly beginning to accept — physically, Xaden Riorson was a terrible, addictive drug. She could dislike him as a person all she wanted, but physically, all it took was one taste to ruin her and make her crave more.
"You're staring."
Violet startled, blinking. Xaden was staring at her now, that arrogant smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth again. He held the water filter she wanted in one hand, and a box of what looked to be some kind of trail bar in his other.
The way he looked at her was too similar to that night, and it left her scrambling to say something coherent. "Just wondering how you manage to get on my nerves so easily. It feels intentional," Violet managed.
Xaden's smirk grew, and she couldn't help but stare at his mouth. He was unfairly attractive, she was unfairly attracted to him, and she needed to get out of this small and enclosed space yesterday, otherwise she would make another very poor decision where he was concerned.
"And if it is?"
"Sorry?"
"Intentional." Xaden chuckled as he moved back toward her. "What would you do if I said I piss you off on purpose?"
Violet barely stopped herself from taking a step back as he crowded into her space. "Have you ever heard of personal space before?"
"Are you avoiding the question?" He cocked his head.
She scoffed. "No. If you told me that, it wouldn't change a thing. You're still—"
Xaden's fingers wrapped lightly around her wrist, and the words died on Violet's tongue as he tugged, bringing her hand up between their bodies. His eyes stayed locked on hers as he pressed the filter into her open palm.
"Still…?" he prompted when she didn't keep speaking.
She swallowed, ignoring the pleasant way his skin dragged against hers and the way the less cautious, less rational side of her wanted to lean into him. And she could, if she wanted to — though she didn't. He was right there. No one could blame her; she could easily blame it on losing her balance, or on Xaden for being too close in the first place, if he pushed her away.
The problem was that Violet didn't think he would.
It was why she had avoided coming back to Basgiath in the three months since her trip that spawned The Video. She'd known this would happen, that the less-guarded, naive side of her would urge her to ignore her long-held dislike for Xaden in favor of seeing if he was skilled with more than his mouth and hands.
That was the second problem — Violet had never been too good at separating physical intimacy from feelings.
So whether Violet liked it or not, things had changed between her and Xaden. And she really, really didn't like it, because that meant that she'd given in and let Xaden Riorson of all people give her the best orgasm of her life. Someone she disliked on a good day and outright despised when he managed to catch her on a bad one. Someone who never seemed to fail at catching her at the worst possible times, always witness to her screw-ups and mistakes. It didn't help that Xaden did everything with a graceful ease that left Violet green with envy, while she felt as though the story of her life was being set on fire and running around to try and put it out.
"Still an irritating, annoying pain-in-my-ass," Violet finally said, though it came out more as a whisper than the fierce, sharp retort she'd intended it to be.
But Xaden didn't seem phased in the slightest. He never did when she insulted him. The corners of his mouth curled again, giving him the expression of a general who just learned the enemy had fallen for his trap.
"No arguments here," he replied. He held up the box. "Here."
"I didn't order that." Violet could still feel the heat from his hand, even after he released her wrist.
"You're good at stating the obvious, Vi."
She flinched. He'd only called her that once before, and it could never happen again. "Don't call me that."
"You like it."
"I don't," she declared, with a finality that was punctuated by a sharp glare.
Xaden scanned her face, his lips set in a hard line and expression carefully neutral. After a few beats of silence, he gave the box a small shake, making the contents rattle, and said, "Take these with you on your next trip."
"Who's changing the subject now?" Violet challenged.
"Me," he said shamelessly. He shook the box again. "They're new. You'll like them."
If there was one thing Violet learned growing up with two headstrong older siblings, it was to pick her battles. So she took the box of trail bars with her other hand, scanning the labeling. "What makes you think that?"
"A hunch," Xaden said.
Violet almost laughed out loud. His confidence came from a source she couldn't identify, but it was surely faulty. She couldn't eat just anything. Between her EDS, POTS, and IBS, she was constantly one careless snack away from her body rebelling against her and causing a temporary marriage to her toilet.
She was fully prepared to hand the box back to him once giving it a cursory look. But as she read the nutrition label, Violet found herself pleasantly surprised. No artificial sweeteners. Lactose-free. Gluten-free. Plenty of fiber. In other words, it was something she probably would have picked out herself had she stumbled across it without his help.
Trail food she could eat without worrying about whether her body would choose that moment to reject her meal choice was a rare — and important — thing. No one wanted to be stopping to use the bathroom every ten minutes when daylight was a finite and a precious resource — least of all her, when every step off the beaten path was one that risked an unseen rock or hollow in the ground causing a dislocation or some other injury.
"Thanks," Violet said after a moment. She tucked the box under her arm, but kept the filter gripped in her hand. "I'll give them a try."
"No argument?" Xaden asked, raising a scarred eyebrow before he squeezed past her again. This time, he managed to do it without touching her. "Who are you, and what have you done with Violet Sorrengail?"
Violet ignored him.
Following him out of the storage room, she watched as he closed and locked the door behind her. When they made their way back to the front of the store, Violet willed him to move behind the register, but couldn't bring herself to feel surprised when he didn't and opted to lean against the customer side of counter as she glared at him.
"Aren't you going to ring me up?"
It was a blatant challenge. Violet knew what his answer would be, and she didn't like it one bit.
"We've been over this, Violence." Xaden tilted his head indulgently, dark eyes spearing through her as if to say I know what you're trying to do. "That implies you have to pay, and you don't. You know that."
"I'm paying." She dug through the purse hanging from her shoulder. Having dealt with Xaden before, she came prepared for this precise interaction. They danced this dance before, and it always ended in his victory — but not this time. A moment later, she slammed down three crumpled up $20 bills atop the counter. "That should be enough."
Xaden crossed his arms, glancing down at the cash with a slight frown before looking at her again. "It doesn't cost nearly that much, you know."
"How am I supposed to know how much they cost when you won't ring me up?" Violet asked sweetly, sarcasm dripping from each word like bitter honey. "So either take the money, Xaden, or check me out properly. It's not hard, promise."
He muttered something under his breath, and it sounded a whole lot like "You have no fucking clue," but Violet didn't particularly care because he began moving, rounding the counter and setting up behind the register like she'd suspected he would.
Violet didn't like Xaden, or the cocky, arrogant way he moved through the world, but she could give credit where credit was due. He was an honorable person, without a doubt. He wouldn't let her grossly overpay for something, and Violet had targeted that trait like a sniper.
Neither of them spoke as Xaden scanned the filter, then the box of trail bars. The silence continued as Violet swiped her card, then stuffed it and the cash back into her purse.
There were no goodbyes when Violet accepted the bag with her purchased goods packed inside. Nor when she opened the door to walk outside. Neither mentioned it, but she was more than aware that he knew as well as did that it would only be a matter of time before they saw one another again. Their trails never seemed to diverge for long. She wouldn't be surprised if Xaden already knew about the Dory offer and how she would be coming on the Arkansas trip.
There were no words — but Violet could feel his eyes on her, watching every step she took, until the door shut behind her and she walked back out into the cold.