“You were supposed to keep her in line.” I push down the desire to laugh in his face. As if anyone could keep Violet in line when she decides on a plan of action. “Hey, fuck you. She’s killing it this summer,” I say, flushing. “She’s a brilliant forecaster and knows more about storm chasing than basically anyone and —” “No, Julian.” Violet puts a hand on my chest, and I want to hold it there forever. “I have something to say.”
