Chapter 18Violet woke up in the early morning. Her mouth tasted like the beach. For a moment, she panicked. Where was she? How did she get here? She saw the outline of Chad from her dream, her memory—but it was soon gone. Sunlight fell into the room from a sliver in the blinds. It was enough to see the outline of Lucien’s face against the couch.
The night came rushing back to her in a wave. She put a hand against her forehead, warding off a headache. Her mouth was tacky from sugar. The Sprite, she remembered. That was why she tasted like a beach; the lemon and lime reminded her of good days, before Chad, before the trial, before she had inevitably split her family in two…
Lucien stirred against the couch. She had lain lengthwise across it and had a flannel blanket under her. He sat propp
