Desires of the Dead Quotes

“I was wrong. I should have never doubted you. I do trust you. I love you, and I can't do this anymore. I don't want to be..." He struggled to find the right words. "...without you." And then, finally, his arms slackened, releasing her, giving her the choice again. She felt his shoulders slump, and his heart shudder. "Please...”
― Kimberly Derting, Desires of the Dead

“You're such a girl," she chided, but somehow the words came out too soft...too tender, and ended up sounding like a compliment.
Jay just laughed. "So what does that make you, the guy?" He squeezed her hand even tighter, keeping it buried in his.
"Or some sort of lesbian," she teased, raising one eyebrow. "Maybe we should try out a little girl-on-girl action."
"Nice, Violet. Do you kiss your mom with that mouth?" His eyes glinted as he watched her.
She leaned closer to him in the darkness of the car's interior. "No, but I'll kiss you with it.”
― Kimberly Derting, Desires of the Dead

“Chelsea, for the love of everything good and holy, please...please stop ruining my friend." ~Jay”
― Kimberly Derting, Desires of the Dead

“He was the last person in the world she wanted to get away from.”
― Kimberly Derting, Desires of the Dead

“She fell asleep like that, wrapped in warmth.
Wrapped in Jay.”
― Kimberly Derting, Desires of the Dead

“They lay there like that, in a different kind of silence now, watching the lake and the stars, listening to the night, each basking in the warmth of the other.”
― Kimberly Derting, Desires of the Dead

“Jay sat down across from Chelsea and took both of her hands in his. The oversized lunchroom was buzzing with activity, and he practically had to yell to be heard.
"Chelsea, for the love of everything good and holy, please ... please stop ruining my friend."
Violet bit her lip to stop from laughing at the two of them. She knew what he was talking about before he even explained. It was the new facial hair.
Chelsea jerked her hands out of his. "Oh, relax, drama queen. He's not broken. Besides, I'm gonna fix him this weekend."
Jay seemed relieved.”
― Kimberly Derting, Desires of the Dead

“She felt Jay squeezing her hand with his. It was warm.
It made her feel safe and attached to the world.”
― Kimberly Derting, Desires of the Dead

“What are you two doing?” Her uncle’s teasing voice came into the room before he did. But his voice was the second warning that they were no longer alone, since Violet had tasted his presence long before he’d actually stepped into her house. Ever since saving her and Jay at Homecoming, her uncle carried an imprint of his own. The bitter taste of dandelions still smoldered on Violet’s tongue whenever he was near. A taste that Violet had grown to accept. And even, to some degree, to appreciate. “Nothing your parents wouldn’t approve of, I hope,” he added.
Violet flashed Jay a wicked grin. “We were just making out, so if you could make this quick, we’d really appreciate it.”
Jay jumped up from beside her. “She’s kidding,” he blurted out. “We weren’t doing anything.”
Her uncle Stephen stopped where he was and eyed them both carefully. Violet could’ve sworn she felt Jay squirming, even though every single muscle in his body was frozen in place. Violet smiled at her uncle, trying her best to look guilty-as-charged.
Finally he raised his eyebrows, every bit the suspicious police officer. “Your parents asked me to stop by and check on you on my way home. They won’t be back until late. Can I trust the two of you here . . . alone?”
“Of course you can—” Jay started to say.
“Probably not—“ Violet answers at the same time. And then she caught a glimpse of the horror-stricken expression on Jay’s face, and she laughed. “Relax, Uncle Stephen, we’re fine. We were just doing homework.”
Her uncle looked at the pile of discarded books on the table in front of the couch. Not one of them was open. He glanced skeptically at Violet but didn’t say a word.
“We may have gotten a little distracted,” she responded, and again she saw Jay shifting nervously.
After several warnings, and a promise from Violet that she would lock the doors behind him, Uncle Stephen finally left the two of them alone again.
Jay was glaring at Violet when she peeked at him as innocently as she could manage. “Why would you do that to me?”
“Why do you care what he thinks we’re doing?” Violet had been trying to get Jay to admit his new hero worship of her uncle for months, but he was too stubborn—or maybe he honestly didn’t realize it himself—to confess it to her.
“Because, Violet,” he said dangerously, taking a threatening step toward her. But his scolding was ruined by the playful glint in his eyes. “He’s your uncle, and he’s the police chief. Why poke the bear?”
Violet took a step back, away from him, and he matched it, moving toward her. He was stalking her around the coffee table now, and Violet couldn’t help giggling as she retreated.
But it was too late for her to escape. Jay was faster than she was, and his arms captured her before she’d ever had a chance. Not that she’d really tried.
He hauled her back down onto the couch, the two of them falling into the cushions, and this time he pinned her beneath him.
“Stop it!” she shrieked, not meaning a single word. He was the last person in the world she wanted to get away from.
“I don’t know . . .” he answered hesitantly. “I think you deserve to be punished.” His breath was balmy against her cheek, and she found herself leaning toward him rather than away. “Maybe we should do some more homework.”
Homework had been their code word for making out before they’d realized that they hadn’t been fooling anyone.
But Jay was true to his word, especially his code word, and his lips settled over hers. Violet suddenly forgot that she was pretending to break free from his grip. Her frail resolve crumbled. She reached out, wrapping her arms around his neck, and pulled him closer to her.
Jay growled from deep in his throat. “Okay, homework it is.”
― Kimberly Derting, Desires of the Dead

“She felt him relax and his voice softened. “Is that what this is all about? You feel like you can’t talk to me anymore? We haven’t changed; we’re still the same people.”
She slipped her hands beneath the front of his shirt, slowly running her fingertips over his chest and back down to his waist. He turned in her arms and smiled, but his grin was filled with mocking suspicion. “Are you trying to distract me, Violet Ambrose?”
“I guess you’re smarter than you look,” she teased as he pushed her backward so that they both fell on her bed.
“And you are not as funny as you think you are.” His mouth hovered over hers, his arms tightening, crushing her against him. Violet giggled and tried to squirm free, but Jay wouldn’t let her. He kissed her throat, his lips teasing her until it wasn’t his grip that made it hard for Violet to breathe.
“Oh, and Violet,” he whispered against her ear, his breath tickling her cheek, “I’m still your best friend. Don’t ever forget it.” His words were fervent and touching.
Violet tried to think of a response that made sense, something appropriate, but all she could manage was: “Please. Don’t stop.”
She didn’t mind begging if it meant getting her way.
Apparently that was enough to satisfy Jay, and he kissed her possessively. Thoroughly. Deeply.
He eased her back until she was lying against the pillows, and she waited for him to stop, to tell her that they’d gone far enough for tonight. But she didn’t want him to. She wanted him to keep going. She wanted him to touch her, to kiss her, to explore her. Her body ached for it. She reached for him, clinging so tightly that her fingers hurt. Everything inside of her hurt.
Jay settled over her, covering her with his body, reacting to her. Violet wrapped her legs around him, pulling his hip closer, telling him with her every movement that she wanted him, that she wanted this. Now.
“Are you sure?” Jay asked into the warm breath between them, barely lifting his mouth from hers.
She nodded, but when she tried to speak, her voice trembled. She hoped he didn’t read it wrong. “Of course I am.” She was nervous and terrified and thrilled all at the same time.
He smiled against her mouth, still kissing her, and she melted into him, unable to stop her heart from thundering.
He reached around for his wallet. “I have a condom.” His voice was rough.
Violet smiled. She’d been waiting for this moment for far too long not to be prepared, but she was happy to hear that he’d been considering it seriously also. “Me too,” she told him, reaching into her nightstand drawer and pulling out a handful of them. “I knew you’d give in.”
He groaned, his lips moving to her neck as he tugged at his shirt and pulled it over his head.
Violet thought he was beautiful. He was right for her; he always had been.
And as he slowly slid her shirt up, his fingertips stroking her bare skin and making goose bumps prickle in the wake of his touch, she wondered why it had taken them so long to get to this place.”
― Kimberly Derting, Desires of the Dead

“What did you think when I first told you about the animals I found?”
He seemed confused. It obviously wasn’t what he’d expected. “Violet, I was seven years old. I thought it was badass. I think I was probably even jealous.”
She made a face at him. “Didn’t you think it was creepy? Or that I was weird?”
“Yeah,” he agreed enthusiastically. “That’s why I was so jealous. I wanted to be the one finding dead bodies. You were like an animal detective or something. You were only weird ‘cause you were a girl.” He grinned. “But I learned to overlook that since you always took me on such cool adventures.”
Violet released a breath, smiling. She knew he was telling the truth, which only made it funnier to hear him saying the words out loud. Of course, what little boy didn’t want to go scavenging through the woods and digging in the dirt?
She tried again. “Did you ever tell anyone? Does your mom know?”
He lifted her hand to his mouth and rubbed her knuckles across his lower lip, his gaze locked with hers. “No,” he promised. “I swore I wouldn’t, not even her. I think she knows something, or at least she thinks you have the worst luck ever, since you found all those dead girls.” He lowered his voice. “She was really worried about you after the shooting last year. You’re like a daughter to her.” He leaned close. “Of course, that makes it kind of creepy when I do things like this.”
He kissed her. It was intimate. Not soft or sweet this time, it was deep and passionate, stealing Violet’s breath. She laid her hand against his chest, savoring the feel of his heartbeat beneath her palm, and then traced her fingertips up to his neck, into his hair.
He pulled her over the console that separated them, dragging her onto his lap. He ran his hands up her back restlessly, drawing her as close as he could.
It was nearly impossible for her to pull herself away. “Wait,” she insisted breathlessly. “Please, wait.” She had her hands braced against his shoulders, struggling more against herself than him.
His glazed eyes teased her. “I thought I was the one who was supposed to say no. I’m the girl, right?”
She sighed heavily, leaning her head against his shoulder and trying to recapture her runaway thoughts. She still wanted to talk. She wanted the other things, too, but she needed to sort through her thoughts first.
“Sorry, it’s just…I have a lot of…” She shrugged against him. His damp T-shirt was warm and practically paper-thin, tempting her to touch him. She ran her finger down the length of his stomach. She knew it wasn’t fair to tease him, but she couldn’t help herself. He was too enticing. “…I have some stuff I need to work through.” It was the best she could do for an explanation.
He caught her hand before she’d reached his waistline, and he held it tightly in his grip. “I’m trying to be patient, Violet, I really am. If there’s something you want to tell me…Well, I just wish you’d trust me.”
“I’ll get there,” she explained. “I’ll figure it all out. I’m just a little confused right now.”
He let out a shaky breath and then he kissed the top of her head, still not releasing her hand. “So, when you do, we’ll pick up where we left off.”
She nodded against him. She thought she would keep talking; she still had so many doubts about what she should, and shouldn’t, be doing.
But instead she just stayed there, curled up on his lap, absorbing him, taking relief from his touch…and strength from his presence.”
― Kimberly Derting, Desires of the Dead

“Jay’s mom was a lot of great things that Violet admired, technologically savvy was definitely not one of them. She was one of those people who were loath to move into the twenty-first century and embrace all things modern. She was the only adult woman that Violet knew of who didn’t own a cell phone, and she refused to buckle beneath the pressure to pay good money for high-speed internet, so Jay was forced to plug his secondhand laptop into the phone line and use dial-up. Not because they couldn’t afford such luxuries, but because Ann Heaton wasn’t going down without a fight.”
― Kimberly Derting, Desires of the Dead

“Funnier still how much faith her parents put in him, considering the fact that Jay would officially be younger than Violet in less than a week.
Violet was about to turn seventeen, while Jay would still be sixteen for nearly two full months/
Jay liked that, the whole older-woman thing. He also liked to joke about the fact that Violet would soon be dating a younger man.
One night, when Violet’s parents had gone out, he teased her about it, whispering against his throat, “I should probably be dating girls my own age now that you’ll be over-the-hill.” Jay was stretched out on Violet’s bed as she curled against him.
Violet laughed, rising to the bait. “Fine,” she challenged, pulling away and leaning up on her elbow. “I’m sure there are plenty of men my own age who would be willing to finish what you’ve started.”
― Kimberly Derting, Desires of the Dead

“He considered her request before answering, and she could tell he was enjoying this. Jay loved this particular weakness of hers. “You can guess, but I’m still not telling.”
“What if I guess right?”
“Then you’d be pretty freakin’ amazing.”
She pretended to be offended. “So, what if I don’t figure it out . . . ?”
His uneven grin made an appearance. “You’re still pretty freakin’ amazing, Violet.” He lifted her hand, pressing it lightly to his lips.
Violet felt herself blushing. She knew how to handle his teasing, but she still hadn’t gotten used to this gentler, sweeter side of him.
“You’re such a girl,” she chided, but somehow the words came out too soft . . . too tender, and ended up sounding like a compliment.
Jay just laughed. “So what does that make you, the guy?” He squeezed her hand even tighter, keeping it buried in his.
“Or some sort of lesbian,” she teased, raising an eyebrow. “Maybe we should try out a little girl-on-girl action.”
“Nice, Violet. Do you kiss your mom with that mouth?” His eyes glinted as he watched her.
She leaned closer to him in the darkness of the car’s interior. “No, but I’ll kiss you with it.”
He set her hand back in her lap. “Watch it, Vi, or I might pull over right now and we’ll never make it there.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Make it where?”
“Nice try, but you can’t distract me that easily . . . it’s still a surprise.”
― Kimberly Derting, Desires of the Dead

“Violet didn’t realize that she’d pressed herself so tightly against the door until it opened from the inside and she stumbled backward.
She fell awkwardly, trying to catch herself as her feet slipped and first she banged her elbow, and then her shoulder-hard-against the doorjamb. She heard her can of pepper spray hit the concrete step at her feet as she flailed to find something to grab hold of.
Her back crashed into something solid. Or rather, someone. And from behind, she felt strong, unseen arms catch her before she hit the ground. But she was too stunned to react right away.
“You think I can let you go now?” A low voice chuckled in her ear.
Violet was mortified as she glanced clumsily over her shoulder to see who had just saved her from falling.
“Rafe!” she gasped, when she realized she was face-to-face with his deep blue eyes. She jumped up, feeling unexpectedly light-headed as she shrugged out of his grip. Without thinking, and with his name still burning on her lips, she added, “Umm, thanks, I guess.” And then, considering that he had just stopped her from landing flat on her butt, she gave it another try. “No…yeah, thanks, I mean.”
Flustered, she bent down, trying to avoid his eyes as she grabbed the paper spray that had slipped from her fingers. She cursed herself for being so clumsy and wondered why she cared that he had been the one to catch her. Or why she cared that he was here at all.
She stood up to face him, feeling more composed again, and quickly hid the evidence of her paranoia-the tiny canister-in her purse. She hoped he hadn’t noticed it.
He watched her silently, and she saw the hint of a smile tugging at his lips. Violet waited for him to say something or to move aside to let her in. His gaze stripped away her defenses, making her feel even more exposed than when she had been standing alone in the empty street.
She shifted restlessly and finally sighed impatiently. “I have an appointment,” she announced, lifting her eyebrows. “With Sara.”
Her words had the desired effect, and Rafe shrugged, still studying her as he stepped out of her way. But he held the door so she could enter. She brushed past him, stepping into the hallway, as she tried to ignore the fact that she was suddenly sweltering inside her own coat.
She told herself it was just the furnace, though, and had nothing to do with her humiliation over falling. Or with the presence of the brooding dark-haired boy.
When they reached the end of the long hallway, Rafe pulled out a thick plastic card from his back pocket. As he held it in front of the black pad mounted on the wall beside a door, a small red light flickered to green and the door clicked. He pushed it open and led the way through.
Security, Violet thought. Whatever it is they do here, they need security.
Violet glanced up and saw a small camera mounted in the corner above the door. If she were Chelsea, she would have flashed the peace sign-or worse-a message for whoever was watching on the other end.
But she was Violet, so instead she hurried after Rafe before the door closed and she was locked out.”
― Kimberly Derting, Desires of the Dead

“I had a dream, and I needed to go back and find out for sure if something—someone—was there.”
When she glanced up, Violet saw the muscles in his jaw flex. “So?” he asked though clenched teeth. “Did you? Find something, I mean?”
Violet’s cheek was getting sore from where her teeth were ripping it apart. “N-no,” she stammered. “I mean, kind of.”
“Well, shit, Violet, what’s that’s supposed to mean?”
“It means there’s someone locked inside one of those gigantic shipping containers down on the docks. But I couldn’t get inside, so I still don’t know for sure. I mean, not in any way I can prove.”
Jay jumped up from his chair. It was more than he could take. “Are you telling me you went down to the shipyards before it was even light out? In the middle of the night? All by yourself?”
Violet smiled then. She didn’t mean to, but she couldn’t help herself; she felt the corners of her mouth twitching upward before she could stop them. She was never going to get used to this, his worrying about her.
“Yeah,” she challenged, taking a step toward him. “Something like that.” She walked to where he was standing, barely containing his frustration. She didn’t try to hide her grin. She put her palms against his chest and could feel his heart beating wildly. “You think you’re gonna be okay? Do you need to sit down? Do you want me to get you a cup of tea or something?”
“Hell, Violet, it’s not funny.”
― Kimberly Derting, Desires of the Dead

“I wanted to see if I could pick up some of those sticker badges you give out to kids. I like to give Jay a hard time about his little man-crush on you.”
Her uncle’s laugh filled his cramped office. “You’re terrible, Vi. You act more like your aunt Kat every day. Has she been giving you lessons?” But he was already reaching into his desk drawer and pulling out a stack of the foil stickers. He slid them across the desk. “How’s he ever gonna stop being so jumpy around me if you don’t stop teasing him?”
This time Violet’s smile was genuine. “Give him time, Uncle Stephen; he’ll relax. He’s just grateful, that’s all.”
― Kimberly Derting, Desires of the Dead

“Is everything okay, Vi?”
She swallowed, setting the rest down. “It’s perfect…” She wrapped her blanket around her and went to Jay’s chair. She leaned over him, her curls falling around hre shoulders like a dark curtain. “You’re perfect.” She smiled as she collapsed on top of him, kissing him.
He groaned and pulled her closer, making room for her as the kiss deepened.
She’d wanted to be in control but had too quickly lost the upper hand. Her breathing became uneven, and she pressed herself against him, squirming to get coser. The warmth between them spread through her like a fever, making her restless and impatient.
He stopped her then, before there was no going back, drawing his face away to create the most microscopic fissure between them. “You taste like tacos.”
Violet gasped as she tried to catch her breath. “What?” She blinked, trying to gather her thoughts. “Really, Jay? Is that a complaint or something?”
He shook his head. “Of course not.”
“Good. Because this is: I hate it when you stop like that.” She pushed herself away from him and sat upright, crossing her arms in front of her.
“Come on, Violet, that’s not what I meant.” The dazed look in his eyes only made Violet feel slightly better. She was glad he was at least a little bit bothered. “It’s just that I wanted to talk to you…you know, before we got distracted.”
“God, I really am the guy,” she glowered, but her shoulders slumped.
He hauled her toward him, dragging her into his arms. “Stop it. You are not the guy.” He kissed her on the mouth, ignoring the fact that she wasn’t kissing back. But as annoyed as she was, it was hard to stay mad. Especially here…now. It truly was magical.
So when he pulled out the Oreos and dangled them in front of her-a peace offering-she shook her head and sighed. “You’re impossible.” But there was no real fight in her words, and she couldn’t stop her lips from twitching when he grinned down at her.
He took her reluctant smile as surrender and settled back, bringing her with him until they were curled up against each other.”
― Kimberly Derting, Desires of the Dead

“At her feet, a luminous path lit the way through the grassy field. It was made entirely from glow sticks; each of the radiant lights had been painstakingly set into the ground at perfect intervals, tracing a curved trail that shone through the darkness.
Apparently, Jay had been busy.
Near the water’s edge, at the end of the iridescent pathway and beneath a stand of trees, Jay had set up more than just a picnic. He had created a retreat, an oasis for the two of them.
Violet shook her head, unable to find the words to speak.
He led her closer, and Violet followed, amazed.
Jay had hung more of the luminous glow sticks from the low-hanging branches, so they dangled overhead. They drifted and swayed in the breeze that blew up from the lake.
Beneath the natural canopy of limbs, he had set up two folding lounge chairs and covered them with pillows and blankets.
“I’d planned to use candles, but the wind would’ve blown ‘em out, so I had to improvise.”
“Seriously, Jay? This is amazing.” Violet felt awed. She couldn’t imagine how long it must have taken him.
“I’m glad you like it.”
He led her to one of the chairs and drew her down until she was sitting before he started unpacking the cooler.
She half-expected him to pull out a jar of Beluga caviar, some fancy French cheeses, and Dom Perignon champagne. Maybe even a cluster of grapes to feed to her…one at a time. So when he started laying out their picnic, Violet laughed.
Instead of expensive fish eggs and stinky cheeses, Jay had packed Daritos and chicken soft tacos-Violet’s favorites. And instead of grapes, he brought Oreos.
He knew her way too well.
Violet grinned as he pulled out two clear plastic cups and a bottle of sparkling cider. She giggled. “What? No champagne?”
He shrugged, pouring a little of the bubbling apple juice into each of the flimsy cups. “I sorta thought that a DUI might ruin the mood.” He lifted his cup and clinked-or rather, tapped-it against hers. “Cheers.” He watched her closely as she took a sip.
For several moments, they were silent. The lights swayed above them, creating shadows that danced over them. The park was peaceful, asleep, as the lake’s waters lapped the shore. Across from them, lights from the houses along the water’s edge cast rippling reflections on the shuddering surface. All of these things transformed the ordinary park into a romantic winter rendezvous.”
― Kimberly Derting, Desires of the Dead

“You know she made me a list, don’t you?”
“What do you mean?”
“A list. Chelsea made me a list of questions to ask Mike.”
Violet laughed, pulling herself up. It was too ridiculous to believe. But it was Chelsea, so of course it was true.
“What did you do with it? You didn’t give it to him, did you?” Violet asked, her eyes wide with shock.
Jay sat up too and grinned, and Violet was sure that he had. And then he shook his head. “Nah. I told her if she really wanted the answers, she’d have to give it to him herself.”
Violet relaxed back into the couch. “Did she?”
Jay shrugged. “I dunno. You never know with Chelsea.” He leaned forward, watching Violet closely as he ran his thumb down the side of her cheek. “Anyway,” he said, switching the subject, “I get off work at six tomorrow; maybe we can hook up after that.” He moved closer, grinning. “And you can tell me how much you missed me.”
He kissed her, at first quickly. Then the kiss deepened, and she heard him groan. This time, when he pulled back, there was indecision in his eyes.
Violet wanted to say something sarcastic and sharp-witted to lighten the mood, but with Jay staring at her like that, any hope of finding a clever response was lost. She could feel herself disappearing into the depths of that uncertain look.”
― Kimberly Derting, Desires of the Dead

“If it makes you feel any better, he’s been all sad doll lately too.”
“What are you talking about, Chels?”
Chelsea stopped walking and stared at Violet.
“Jay. I’m talking about Jay, Vi. I thought you might want to know that you’re not the only one who’s hurting. He’s been moping around school, making it hard to even look at him. He’s messed up . . . bad.” Just like the other night in Violet’s bedroom, something close to . . . sympathy crossed Chelsea’s face.
Violet wasn’t sure how to respond.
Fortunately sympathetic Chelsea didn’t stick around for long. She seemed to get a grip on herself, and like a switch had been flipped, the awkward moment was over and her friend was back, Chelsea-style: “I swear, every time I see him, I’m halfway afraid he’s gonna start crying like a girl or ask to borrow a tampon or something. Seriously, Violet, it’s disgusting. Really. Only you can make it stop. Please make it stop.”
― Kimberly Derting, Desires of the Dead

“Jay had to work the next day, but he called frequently. Checking in to make sure Violet was feeling all right, that she hadn’t changed her mind about their decision, and that she missed him. Violet called him just to hear the sound of his voice. And to make unfairly suggestive comments, taunting him across the phone lines.
Violet loved this new game. Jay would groan uncomfortably from the other end, but he never cut her off.”
― Kimberly Derting, Desires of the Dead

“She already missed the feel of him beside her, and the scent of him around her. She sat up to give him back the T-shirt she was wearing.
His lazy smile was far too beautiful to be real. “Keep it,” he insisted. “I like it better on you anyway.” The way he stared at her made her stomach flip. It was a look brimming with tenderness. They were a part of something more now; they belonged to each other.
He tugged his hoodie over his bare chest, and then he leaned down to kiss her one last time, his lips lingering.
His thumb traced the line of her cheek. “I love you, Violet Marie. I’ll always love you.”
― Kimberly Derting, Desires of the Dead

“She tried again. “Did you ever tell anyone? Does your mom know?”
He lifted her hand to his mouth and rubbed her knuckles across his lower lip, his gaze locked with hers. “No,” he promised. “I swore I wouldn’t, not even her. I think she knows something, or at least she thinks you have the worst luck ever, since you found all those dead girls.” He lowered his voice. “She was really worried about you after the shooting last year. You’re like a daughter to her.” He leaned close. “Of course, that makes it kind of creepy when I do things like this.”
He kissed her. It was intimate. Not soft or sweet this time, it was deep and passionate, stealing Violet’s breath.”
― Kimberly Derting, Desires of the Dead

“She kept herself busy for a moment, pouring hot water into a mug and giving Jay a chance to absorb what she’d just asked of him, letting him consider her request.
Before the dance and before they were a couple, there would have been nothing to think about; he would never have told on her. They’d kept each other’s secrets. No matter what.
But now everything—everything—had changed, and Violet was sometimes surprised by how far he would go to keep her out of harm’s way. She knew that, for him anyway, it meant that he would even betray her secrets if it meant she’d be safer in the end.
She carried her steaming mug, with the tea bag steeping inside, and set it on the table as she sat down.
Jay reluctantly sat too. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, watching her warily. Finally he sighed, “I won’t tell . . . if you make me one promise.”
She met his eyes, hesitating at the look she saw on his face. The unusual mixture of tenderness and fear were at odds, but it made Violet feel warm and soft inside. He reached out his hand to her, and she took it, letting him pull her toward him. She settled onto his lap as he wrapped his arms around her. He nuzzled her neck, inhaling deeply as if the scent of her was somehow reassuring.
“Next time . . .” he insisted in a voice quieter than before, “you call me.”
She nodded, satisfied that he would keep her safe . . . secrets and all.
It was completely astonishing to her—even after all these months—being in love with her best friend.”
― Kimberly Derting, Desires of the Dead

“She dropped her coat on the back of a chair and crept quietly up to Jay’s room. She did her best not to wake him as she pulled the door closed behind her. She watched him sleep, stretched out on his back, feeling herself coming back to life in his presence.
“What are you doing?” he mumbled without opening his eyes.
Violet startled, feeling like she’d been caught doing something she shouldn’t have been. Like when they were little and they were busted for looking at a dirty magazine one of the other kids brought to school.
Jay rolled onto his side and squinted one eye open at Violet, grinning. “Come over here,” he growled, lifting the corner of his sheet up, inviting her in. He looked rumpled and messy and alluring.
Violet slipped off her shoes and climbed in beside him. He wrapped his arm around her back, pulling her close. His breath was warm, his body warmer, and she felt herself thawing for the first time since she’d stepped out into the shipyard that morning. Even the heat blasting inside her car on the way home hadn’t helped.
She tucked her feet between his legs.
“What are you doing here so early?” His voice was rough from sleep but it sounded like soft velvet. He stroked her back lazily. “Are you feeling better today?”
Neither question really needed an answer; they were just Jay’s way of letting her know he’d been worried about her.
“I didn’t mean to wake you,” she whispered as she let herself get comfortable against him. She’d been cold and tired, and now that she was warm again she thought she might actually be able to fall asleep, right there in his arms.
He rested his chin against the top of her head. “You didn’t,” he assured her. “I was already awake.”
Violet sighed. It felt so good to be here. It was the first time she’d felt comfortable since she’d gone to Seattle yesterday with Chelsea. Jay made her feel safe—among other things—and she needed that right now.
She closed her eyes; they were gritty and raw from lack of sleep. She breathed deeply, inhaling him, and relaxing as she sank further into him . . . and into the pillow beneath her head.
She fell asleep like that, wrapped in warmth.
Wrapped in Jay.”
― Kimberly Derting, Desires of the Dead

“That was fast,” Jay said as Violet got into the car.
“I told you I wouldn’t be long.”
“Good, ‘cause I think we’re gonna be late,” he answered, glancing at the clock on his dash.
Violet sighed. “Is this about the party?”
“I already told you: There is no party.” And then he grinned at her. “Besides, if you don’t act surprised, Chelsea’s going to kill me.”
“Ugh! I hate parties!”
Jay reached over and slipped his hand around the back of Violet’s neck, pulling her toward him. She could smell the mint he’d been chewing on as she leaned into him.
“Come on. None of them got to celebrate your birthday with you.” He kissed her once, softly, sweetly, on her cheek. “Let them have their little party; it won’t last long.” He kissed her other cheek and then her chin, and Violet felt her resolve slipping.
“We’ll be out of there in no time.” His lips brushed her forehead; his eyes smoldered as he gazed down at her. “And then afterward”-he found her lips, lightly teasing her-“we can have our own party.”
Violet sighed in defeat, losing herself to his very persuasive argument.
“I think we’re gonna be late,” she whispered, surrendering at last.”
― Kimberly Derting, Desires of the Dead

“What happened?” Violet asked Jay, when Mike went to join the girls in the kitchen, giving them a moment alone in front of the fire.
Jay shook his head, his expression dark. “You tell me. One minute you were leaning on me, and the next you passed out. It freaked the shit out of me.”
“Claire actually screamed,” Chelsea added, rejoining them. She sat down on a wooden chair across from Violet. “I can’t believe you didn’t hear her. I’m with Jay though-it was pretty scary. You’re lucky he caught you before you hit the ground.”
Violet cringed. She glanced up at Jay, humiliated. “You…caught me?”
He nodded, and she could tell from the look on his face that he was enjoying this part. A lot. “You’re welcome,” he said with a completely straight face.
She looked at him again and rolled her eyes, stubbornly refusing to thank him after he’d already so clearly patted himself on the back.
Megan came back in, carrying a mug of hot chocolate, and Claire trailed behind her.
“Be careful,” Megan warned quietly, handing it to Violet. “It’s kind of hot.”
Their fingertips brushed as the mug exchanged hands. Violet locked eyes with the younger girl. “Thank you.” She imparted as much meaning as she could in the two simple words and hoped that it was gesture enough, even if only for herself. She felt bad for the things she’d suspected her of doing.
Megan pulled her hand away and glanced down nervously. “You’re welcome.” Her voice was timid and hesitant.
“So she gives you hot chocolate and you thank her. I save your life and get nothing. That’s messed up,” Jay complained.
Violet smirked at him over the top of her hot cocoa. “Hers tastes better,” she teased, blowing on the steaming liquid and then taking a sip. “Besides, I think you’ve already thanked yourself.”
― Kimberly Derting, Desires of the Dead

“Nothing had changed in that moment when Violet and Jay had finally decided to have sex. Nothing-and everything.
Violet was amazed by what they’d done. Amazed that they’d shared themselves with each other, like that. It was wonderful, and beautiful, and not anything that Violet had expected it to be.
The pain had been more intense than she could have imagined, and she’d done her best not to cry out. But, of course, Jay had noticed as her body tensed, and then she shuddered. Tears dampened her lashes, yet she’d refused to let them fall.
Jay had insisted that they stop, but Violet wouldn’t let him. Instead they’d waited, with Jay holding her, stroking her hair, her shoulders, her face, until the pain subsided, becoming something…less.
Later, when she was lying in his arms, she shuddered again.
Jay hugged her tight. “What’s wrong? You’re not sorry, are you?” The tenderness of his words made her heart twist.
“Of course not. How could I be sorry for that?”
He kissed her eyes, gently. “Then why are you shivering? I didn’t mean to hurt you, Vi.”
She shook her head, clumsily bumping his chin. “I don’t know why.” She ran her fingertips over his arm, memorizing the feel of his coarse hairs, his skin, the muscles beneath it all. “It’s just…it’s a lot. You know?”
Jay smiled. It was a satisfied smile. “Yeah.” He leaned back and pulled her to him, tucking her against his shoulder. “It was a lot. A really good lot.”
She wanted to shove him, to banter, to play, but she was too exhausted.
When Jay finally got up to leave, Violet leaned up on her elbow and watched as he buttoned his jeans. She wished they could stay like that-together-for longer. Forever.
She already missed the feel of him beside her, and the scent of him around her. She sat up to give him back the T-shirt she was wearing.
His lazy smile was far too beautiful to be real. “Keep it,” he insisted. “I like it better on you anyway.” The way he stared at her made her stomach flip. It was a look brimming with tenderness. They were a part of something more now; they belonged to each other.
He tugged his hoodie over his bare chest, and then he leaned down to kiss her one last time, his lips lingering.
His thumb traced the line of her cheek. “I love you, Violet Marie. I’ll always love you.”
And then he left.
And, once again, Violet slept deeply, soundly, wrapped in Jay’s shirt.
He was the perfect remedy to all her worries.”
― Kimberly Derting, Desires of the Dead

“One night, when Violet’s parents had gone out, he teased her about it, whispering against her throat, “I should probably be dating girls my own age now that you’ll be over-the-hill.” Jay was stretched out on Violet’s bed as she curled against him.
Violet laughed, rising to the bait. “Fine,” she challenged, pulling away and leaning up on her elbow. “I’m sure there are plenty of men my own age who would be willing to finish what you’ve started.”
Jay stiffened, and Violet realized that she’d struck a nerve. “What is it?”
He shook his head, and Violet thought he might say, “Nothing,” so when he answered, his words caught her off guard. “Is there someone else, Vi?”
Violet frowned, baffled by the unfamiliar jealousy she saw on his face. She wondered what in the world he meant as she reached down and smoothed a strand of hair from his forehead. “What are you talking about, Jay?”
His eyes met hers. “I saw you with that guy at the movies, Vi. Who was he?”
Violet closed her eyes. She wasn’t ready yet. She didn’t want to tell him about the FBI, about Sara and Rafe or what she’d learned about Mike’s mother. She wondered briefly if he knew about Mike’s mom-if his friend had ever confided in him. But somehow she doubted it. Jay wasn’t like her; he didn’t keep secrets.
“It’s not like that,” she explained, hoping that would be enough.
Jay got up and went to the window, pushing the curtain aside. Every muscle in his body was rigid. “Like what, Vi? What’s going on? Something’s been bothering you lately. Why can’t you tell me?”
He was right. She owed it to him to at least try. “I don’t know how to explain, but I just feel like everything’s changed between us-“
“Of course it’s changed, Violet, what’d you expect?”
Violet tried to ignore the bitterness in his voice, telling herself she had no right to be hurt. “It used to be that I would never keep secrets from you. You were my best friend. But now that we’re dating, it’s just…different. I feel like I have to watc what I say, or you get all worried. Sometimes I just want you to be the old Jay again, so I can talk to you.” Violet crept up behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her cheek against his back.”
― Kimberly Derting, Desires of the Dead