Gemma was another matter altogether, but Violet was sure she could handle the situation on her own. She certainly didn’t want to tattle to the team’s shrink about it.

“And Sara?”

He was definitely covering all the bases. “Sara’s fine,” Violet assured him. “She’s easy to work with, and I trust her. That’s important to me.”

He tipped his chin forward, a curt nod. “All right, then, back to this uneasiness you’re feeling. What about sleep, Violet? Can you sleep when you’re feeling this way?”

Normally she couldn’t, but with Dr. Lee’s help—using the CDs he’d made for her—she had. This was new.

Still, she had to admit she didn’t feel totally rested. “I did, but I’m still exhausted,” she finally admitted, sighing as she said it. “I dreamed about her . . . the girl.”

He studied Violet, and then stood and went to his desk. Pulling a set of keys from his pocket, he unlocked a drawer and reached inside. When he returned, he held his hand out to her, giving her a transparent brown prescription bottle. “These will help. Take one if you have trouble again tonight. It won’t do you any good to lose sleep.” Then he scribbled on a pad of notebook paper before tearing a sheet free. “Here’s a prescription for more if you need them. If your parents have questions, they can call me,” he explained, handing her another one of his business cards. He scrawled a phone number on the back. “And this is my mobile number, in case it’s after hours.” His eyes held hers. “You can use the number, too, Violet. For anything. At any time.”

Violet nodded as she slipped both the note and the bottle into her pocket.

Sleep would be good, she decided. Sleep might be just what she needed.

Violet stood outside, watching as the lights went out, row by row, inside the auto parts store where Jay worked. She probably should’ve felt guilty about showing up unannounced, but truthfully, she didn’t. The only thing she felt was that familiar thrum of anticipation in the pit of her stomach whenever she was about to see Jay. When the door finally opened and she heard the key slide into the lock, she smiled, stepping out of the shadows.

“Jesus, Vi, you scared the crap outta me!” Jay jolted, but even in the washed-out light coming from the store’s sign, Violet could see the easy smile that found his lips as he stuffed the bulky store keys in his pocket. “Although I have to admit I knew you wouldn’t be able to stay away.”

She made a face at him. “Whatever! You don’t know anything.” She lifted both hands in front of her, as if he hadn’t already seen the two cups she was holding, her version of a romantic gesture. They were Jay’s favorite, cherry Slurpees from the 7-Eleven. Violet always teased him about having such simple taste, but secretly, she loved them too. Drinking the red, slushy drinks reminded her of the long summer days they’d spent loitering on the hot blacktop parking lot in front of the run-down convenience store, waiting for something interesting to happen. But it was Buckley, after all, and the best thing that ever happened was a street race between two hotheaded teens trying to show off for a girl. Or maybe a shoplifting incident during which the police would be called. Every so often it was her uncle who would show up, and she and Jay would talk him into giving them a ride in his police cruiser to town where they would hang out in the park instead.

Jay grinned, reaching for one of the cups. Violet sat down on the curb, just like they used to do as kids, and lifted her straw to her lips.

“I’m glad you came,” he said, serious now, following her lead and dropping onto the curb beside her.

Violet leaned against him, just enough so their shoulders were touching, and she felt a different kind of spark, the kind forged from years of connection. This was where she belonged. This was where she should always be. With Jay.

“So how was your appointment? With the shrink?” He was frowning as he stared down at her, his lips already turning red from his drink. His face was creased with worry.

“It was good,” she said, taking a long pull from her own straw and swirling the sweet, syrupy ice around her tongue. “It—it helped to talk to him.” She didn’t tell Jay about the pills Dr. Lee had given her, the ones in her pocket, pressed against her thigh at this very moment. Pills felt like failure to her. Like admitting she couldn’t handle this on her own. That willpower wasn’t enough . . . even though, clearly, it wasn’t. “But, you know, I still don’t feel great. I was hoping that seeing you might make things . . .” A tiny smile tugged at her lips as she shrugged. “. . . better,” she finished.

She knew he’d understand what she was telling him: that the echo of the dead girl was weighing on her still.

After a hesitant pause, Jay set the wax-coated cup on the sidewalk next to him. He leaned down and pressed the barest whisper of a kiss against the top of Violet’s dark curls. Despite the icy sensation of his lips, heat unfurled in Violet’s belly, licking through her. “I hate this, you know.” Absently, he reached for her hand, lifting it and flipping it over as he studied her palm. His thumb ran along the grooves there, and then his eyes moved up to meet hers. “I hate that you have to do all this without me. Maybe it would be better if you spent less time there . . . with them.”

Violet wished he’d just say it, what he really meant. “He’s not that bad, Jay. He’s just trying to help.” She knew that neither of them was talking about Dr. Lee now. This was about Rafe.