Violet was in the middle of rehearsal when she received an alarming phone call. Her father had been in a car accident on his way back to the office from a meeting. His emergency contact wasn't answering, so the hospital was working down the list.

"Please excuse me, Director! I have a family emergency!" she shouted, grabbing her bag and rushing out.

She barely had time to change from her pointe shoes into the flats she'd worn to work. Still wearing a lilac spaghetti-strap leotard, black booty shorts, and matching leg warmers—and forgetting her jacket—she was too worried to notice her attire.

Rushing to the hospital, various terrifying scenarios raced through her mind. The reality, however, was completely unexpected.

Aaron was sitting up in a hospital bed, barking orders at his assistant while a doctor sewed up a bloody gash on his shoulder. He seemed remarkably unfazed.

"Dad?" she asked, confused. "What are you doing?"

His icy demeanor melted when he saw her. "Violet! Why are you here?"

"…The hospital called because they couldn't reach Mom. What happened to you?"

He sighed, rubbing his forehead with his uninjured hand. Jeremy stood awkwardly to the side, silent, his boss having ceased giving instructions.

"Some idiot kid on a speeding motorcycle slammed into my car, breaking the driver's side window. I'm here because I have glass embedded in my arm and shoulder. I don't know why they called you; Jeremy's already here and he's fine."

The doctor chimed in, "It's standard procedure, Mr. Hale. Since Mr. Ward was involved, someone uninjured needs to drive you home."

That explained it. Violet was annoyed at having worried needlessly. Missing work was less of a concern, as she didn't mind driving her father home, but she wished someone had explained the situation's lack of severity to avoid her panic.

She scowled. "Whoever called should have explained it wasn't serious. I nearly had a heart attack."

"Were you at work?" Jeremy asked.

It was the first thing she'd heard him say since their elevator encounter over a week ago. He hadn't made much of an impression on her.

Suddenly, Violet remembered her outfit and blushed. Nobody wore such attire outside a dance studio. Her messy bun didn't help matters.

"Yes. I ran out without changing because I thought it was an emergency," she explained, avoiding his gaze.

"Clearly I'm fine," her father said, wincing as the needle pierced his skin again. "I'll need a ride home in about twenty minutes, though."

Violet smiled, trying to appear tough despite his pain and the onlookers. He'd always been that way. She was certain that if her mother had answered the call, he would have milked the injury for all it was worth to gain her attention. Keeley Hale was a strange exception to Aaron's usual rules, even those concerning their children.

"Not a problem. Do you need anything else? Coffee, maybe?"

"Do they even have decent coffee here?" he asked dryly.

"I saw a Starbucks in the lobby, sir," Jeremy offered helpfully. This aligned with Violet's limited knowledge of him; her father always described him as an overachiever.

"That'll do. I'll take a dark chocolate mocha. Thanks, Vi."

She turned to her father's assistant. "Would you like anything?"

Jeremy smiled warmly. "I'll have a cappuccino. Thank you for thinking of me."

"No problem. I'll be back soon," she promised, leaving the room.

Why was he so pleased by her basic politeness? Wasn't it normal to offer drinks in such a situation?

While waiting in line, Violet decided to get a snack—a mango and coconut yogurt bowl. Coffee was generally frowned upon by her director, though some dancers drank it secretly.

Ten minutes later, she delivered coffees to the men. Her father's stitches were done, his shoulder bandaged. His arm hurt too much to re-don his bloody shirt, so he left shirtless. Their oddly dressed group (except Jeremy, still in a suit) attracted many stares as they left the hospital.

"Were you able to reach Mom?" she asked once they were in her car.

Aaron frowned. "No. She usually turns her phone off or leaves it in her locker during lab work."

He'd likely get an earful from his wife later. She worried more than Violet did, and he'd probably savor her fussing. Her parents were peculiar.

Yet, she envied them. Their relationship was unshakeable, solid. Their love was undeniable. She wished for someone to love her like that.

"She'll see the missed call soon enough," Violet predicted. "Then she'll probably blow up your phone."

Aaron smiled expectantly. Such a weirdo.

Rolling her eyes, she turned to Jeremy. "I just realized I didn't ask if you were hurt."

"Oh, I'm fine," he replied calmly. "A little whiplash, that's all. The accident was minor; Aaron's window broke because a handlebar went through it."

Relieved, she'd almost forgotten about him due to his quiet demeanor. He tended to blend into the background, not because of his looks—he was quite attractive—but because he rarely spoke unless spoken to. Did he feel awkward because she was her father's daughter? He'd been chattier in the elevator.

Then again, her father's presence this time had been less suffocating once he noticed her. She knew many feared him. How did Jeremy cope with that constantly?

"Thank you for asking," Jeremy added.

Again with the surprised politeness. What did he think of her based on their brief interaction?

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