The Probability of Violet and Luke

Chapter 5

Luke

“I’m in so much damn trouble,” I announce the obvious as I shut and lock the door to my apartment behind us. Not knowing where else to go, I’d ran here with a very willing Violet in tow with me. I have no fucking clue how this happened--not with the Geraldson thing since I’d always known eventually my luck would run out—but Violet being here. With me. In the place that used to be our home.

Emotions stir inside me as I lean against the door and watch her as she walks around the living room, taking in the food on the counter and coffee table, the textbooks on the floor, the general disorganization of the room that was never here when she was living with us.

“It’s messier than when I lived here,” she notes, tracing her fingers along a few empty beer bottles on the kitchen countertop and then across a layer of dust on the entertainment center. She pauses, tucking a strand of her red-streaked hair behind her ear, considering something before she turns around and folds her arms across her chest. The excitement that was in her green eyes just a few minutes when we were on the ledge has vanished and I’m glad because it was sort of freaking the shit out of me, because I think it was stemming from the danger we were in.

“Are you okay?” I ask her, wanting to cross the room and kiss her again, like in the bathroom, but knowing better. What happened back at Geraldson’s was us getting caught up in the heat of the moment, being that close together and alone for the first time in months.

She shrugs. “I don’t know.” She unfolds her arms and thrums her fingers on the sides of her legs as she looks around the living room, everywhere but at me. “What are you going to do?”

I stand up from the door and dare a step or two closer to her, noting she slightly tenses, but thankfully doesn’t back away. “I honestly have no idea what I’m going to do,” I say. “I mean, I’ve been caught cheating before, but never by guys like these.” I blow out a stressed breath as reality crashes on me in a giant, very powerful wave. I’ve sobered up pretty good since we left the apartment and am seeing a little too clearly for my taste. “I guess I’ll just lay low for a while and hope this blows over.”

“You really think it will?” she asks, doubtful. “Because I’m not so optimistic.”

No I don’t. Not in the least little bit, but she doesn’t need to know that. “It’s all I can do for now, at least until I come up with another plan.” I take another step or two, reducing the space between us, noting how she flinches as I near her, like she’s afraid I’m going to touch her again. I want to so fucking badly but know it’s not right and clearly not wanted on her part, so I swing around her and head for the bedroom to pack my bags, knowing the longer I hang around here, the more likely Geraldson’s going to show up.

I expect Violet to leave, but after a minute or two she comes wandering into my room—a room that used to be hers too. “Where are you going?” She leans against the doorframe, her eyes drifting to Amy’s journal sticking out from underneath my pillow and I find myself picking it up and throwing it in the duffel bag.

I shrug, grabbing some shirts and jeans from the dresser and stuffing them into the bag. “I don’t know… I’ll probably just drive around, stay in hotels for a week or so.” I pause, trying to think of where I could hide that doesn’t include being with my mother or my father—I swore I’d never ask him for help again after the last time I did and he turned me down. There’s only one family member I actually know, my uncle Cole, my dad’s brother who lives in Vegas and who taught my dad how to gamble. I’ve met him a total of twice—once when I was five when my dad when for a little gambling trip and took me with him and once when I was eighteen when I spent a week down in Vegas while my father was on vacation there and wanted me to come visit. But needing my space, I ended up spending more time with my Uncle Cole than him. I haven’t really talked to Cole since then though, except for one or two phone calls and I’m not sure if my uncle will let me stay there or not. He’s not a bad guy, just not the kind of guy you go around asking for favors and help, since he’s more like a teenager than an adult. Plus, I don’t even have his phone number. There is one way to get it, but I’m not sure if I want to go there yet.

Think of something else.

Violet sits on my bed as I hurry around, collecting my cologne and other stuff and tossing them into the bag, trying to ignore her relentless gaze as it tracks my every movement. She’s here. In my room, like I’ve been dreaming about for the last two months. But this isn’t how I wanted it to go down—not under these circumstances.

As I’m headed out of the room to the bathroom to get my toothbrush, her phone buzzes from her pocket. By the time I return, she’s gone pale, like she’s about to throw up. I open my mouth to ask her what’s wrong, but she speaks before I get the chance.

“So you’re just going for a week, right? To wherever you’re going? And then you’re going to come back here?” she asks, fiddling with a leather bracelet on her wrist as she stares at the spot on the floor between our feet.

“I’m not sure….” I zip my bag up and hitch it over my shoulder, rubbing my hand down my face. “This is fucking bad, isn’t it? I just need to get the hell out of here. Run away somewhere.”

“You can’t run away from it forever, Luke.” There’s an underlying meaning in her tone as her gaze locks with mine and her chest heaves as she struggles to maintain her breathing.

“No, I can’t.” I pause, dropping my bag onto the floor and retrieving my phone from my pocket to do something I really don’t want to do. I text Toverson, the guy that got me into the game. I need to know how bad it is.

Me: I fucked up.

I expect it to take awhile for him to text me back, but it takes seconds.

Toverson: I know. And I fucking warned u. God dammit, Luke. What the fuck were u thinking?

Me: I wasn’t. That was the problem.

Toverson: Where r u now? Your house?

Me: Can’t tell u yet. Not until I know how deep of shit I’m in.

Toverson: Luke I’m sorry, but I can’t get u out of this mess. And warning, Geraldson knows where you live.

A shiver rolls up my spine as I read the text and then moments later there’s a knock on my door, well more like a pounding of fists.

“Dammit,” I curse, stuffing my phone into my back pocket. I start to pace in front of the bed, trying to figure out what the hell to do, but seeing no other alternative. I’m trapped. Violet’s trapped with me. This is so bad.

Another loud knock. Then a bang.

“Who is that?” Violet asks, getting to her feet. “Wait. Is it them?”

I stop pacing and look at her. After all this time pining for her to be in my room again, I’m now wishing she wasn’t. I messed up big time and now there’s going be some heavy consequences. “Stay here,” I order, then go into the living room to look out the peephole. Sure enough Geraldson and some big dude with a shaved head that looks at least double my size are standing out there. Both are packing, guns tucked in their belt, brass knuckles on the big guy’s hand. My head slumps against the door, a sequences of curses flowing from my lips as I ram by fist into the wall until the sheetrock cracks.

“What are we going to do?” Violet comes up behind me. “And quit beating up the wall. It didn’t do anything to you.”

I elevate my head and turn to face her. “We aren’t going to do anything.” I stride across the room and shove her toward the bedroom. “You are going to stay back in here and hide while I talk to them.”

Violet plants her feet firmly to the floor and presses her hands against my chest, refusing to move. “First of all, I really doubt they’re here to talk. And second of all, I don’t need you to protect me from this. Trust me, I’ve had my fair share of crazy shit.”

“I’m know you have.” I give her a gentle shove toward the bedroom as I hear someone messing around with the doorknob—I’m betting their trying to pick the lock. “But it doesn’t mean that my fuck ups have to add to that list.” I start to push her toward the bedroom again when the front door flies open, the doorknob slamming into the wall behind it and leaving a hole.

“Fuck.” I strategically place myself in front of Violet, pissed at myself for making bad choices and getting her involved. I don’t give a rats ass about myself, but her… well, it’s making me literally sick just thinking about them even so much as touching her.

“Luke Price,” Geraldson says darkly, taking in my small apartment as he enters. The large guy strolls in right behind him, shutting the door and closing us in. “You owe me some money.”

Gritting my teeth, I reach into my pocket and take out the fifteen hundred I won today. “There ya go.” I throw the small pile of cash on the floor between us, knowing there’s going to be more to it than that.

Geraldson bends down and picks it up, fanning through the bills. “You think this is going to be enough?”

“Probably not,” I say dryly. “But it’s what I won.”

He lets out a low laugh, handing the cash to the big guy who stuffs it into his back pocket. “You steal from me,” he slams his finger against his chest, “and you think we’re even because you gave me the winnings back.” He cracks his knuckles. “Who the fuck do you think you’re dealing with?”

A thousand comebacks tickle at my tongue, but I bite them back, knowing it’ll make things worse. If I was alone, though, it’d be a whole other story. “How much?”

He smirks. “Nine thousand.”

“I don’t have that kind of money,” I snap. “And that’s like six times as much as I won today.”

“That’s the price you pay for being a fucking cheat,” he bites back, stepping to the side to let the big guy step forward. My muscles ravel in knots because I know what’s coming. “You were warned not to fuck with me,” Geraldson says as the big guy pops his neck and then stretches out his fingers with the brass knuckles on them.

I could run, but they’d only chase me. And throwing a punch means getting more in return. And knowing Violet, she’ll probably try to intervene, like she did that time at the bar when I got myself into a mess. I don’t want her getting involved more than she is, so I tighten my muscles and hold still as the big guy rams his fist right into my side. The impact and the metal knocks the wind out of me as my body fights to hunch forward, but I refuse to let it, forcing myself to stand tall. From behind me, I hear Violet suck in a breath, then her hand touches my back, causing my muscles to twitch.

“You have five days to get the money to me,” Geraldson tells me as he and the large guy head for the front door. “And if you don’t, you won’t be walking away from this.” His threatening tone makes me want to clock him in the face. Fighting, it’s what I do. It’s engrained in every part of me, helps me settle down, calm myself when there’s a storm inside me. But I can’t bring myself to do it—not with her just inches away from me.

“And you.” Geraldson leans to the side and looks around me to Violet and I have to stab my fingernails into my palms just to keep my hands in place. “You can tell Preston that I won’t be doing business with him.”

Violet doesn’t say anything, but flips him the middle finger as he strolls out of the apartment with the big guy who just punched me in the gut. When they’re gone and the door is shut, I turn to Violet and her eyes frantically scan over my body. “Are you okay? He hit you pretty hard.” She starts to lift her hand as if she’s going to touch me, but then pulls back, deciding against it.

I nod, allowing my shoulders to slump as I sink down onto the closest sofa. “Super,” I say through clenched teeth as I cradle my throbbing side.

“What a asshole, sucker punching you like that.” She kneels down in front of me, sweeping her hair to the side as she lowers her head to inspect the area I’m cradling. “Did he break any ribs?”

I fight the compulsion to shut my eyes and breathe in her scent, instead waving her off. “I’m good. Just a little bruise.” I give her a stiff smile. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

“Do you want me to get you some ice?” she asks, leaning back and sitting on her heals. “Or some painkillers?”

“I have painkillers in my room and I’ll get them.” I get to my feet, moving slowly through the pain. “And no time for ice. I need to get going.” Now more than before, to a place I don’t want to go. But I know that if I don’t pay up, I’m going to be fuuuuucked. And it serves me right. I went there looking for trouble—I got exactly what I wanted.

“Where are you going?” Violet asks, following me as I hobble back to my room.

I want to ask her why she’s still here with me. Why she’s not running away again like she has been, but I fear asking her will remind her. “I’m going to go gamble and see if I can get up to nine grand.”

Her eyes widen as a breath eases out of her lips. “How the hell are you planning on doing that? I mean, you could end up losing all of your money in the process and be even more screwed”

I pause in the doorway of my room, knowing my only option at the moment that might help me dig my way out of this mess. “I have to make a phone call,” I tell Violet, my voice sounding strained. But I shake it off and grab my phone from my back pocket. “Can you give me a minute?” I ask and then head back to the kitchen to make a call I don’t want to make. But as I stand there, trying to dial my father’s number, it proves harder than I thought. Still, it’s either ask him or get my ass beat to death, so shoving all my pride aside I just do it.

He answers after a couple of rings. “Luke, I’m so glad you called,” he says before I can even utter a hello, sounding so relieved I’m talking to him again. “It’s been too long, but I was waiting for you to call like you said the last time we talked… I didn’t want to be too pushy anymore.”

“I didn’t call to talk,” I tell him, closing my eyes and pressing my fingers to the brim of my nose, feeling a headache coming on strong. “I… need a favor.”

“Oh.” The disappointment in his voice makes me feel bad, but at the same time causes rage to flare inside me for feeling guilty. “What did you need?”

I open my eyes and plop down on one of the barstools at the counter. “I need Uncle Cole’s number. I used to have his number but it got erased from my phone a while ago.”

“Oh. Okay. I can give you it.” He pauses. “But can I ask what you need it for?”

“No.”

“Luke, I… do you need some help with something.”

“No.” I know I’m being a douche bag, but I can’t seem to stop myself. What he took from me when he left me as a child, what he left me with, and what it did to my life—what it all stole from me, still aches like an unhealed wound. I have so much anger inside me, eating me away, bit by bit, because I can’t seem to let it go and just let the damn wound heal. “I just need his number.”

“If you need help… let me help you. I want to make up for stuff, Luke.”

“Then give me Cole’s phone number. That’s what will help me.”

He gets quiet again and I think he’s going to make this complicated, but then he surprises me and gives me the number which I hurry and punch in my phone. “Are you sure you don’t need anything else?” he asks when he’s finished.

“Nope. Not from you.” That remark gnaws at my chest and I open my mouth to mutter an apology, but he speaks first.

“Okay then.” Now he sounds like the wounded Bambi. “Well if you need anything, you can always call me. I’m always here.”

“Thanks,” I mutter, then press end. Deep down, I know that my life might be easier if I just let go of the stuff between my father and I, but it’s difficult, especially when I barely understand it. I mean, I get why he left my mom, because he needed to find himself. Self-discovery. And he’s happy now with Trevor, his husband, at least it seems that way. I get the need to be happy, but why did he have to leave Amy and I behind? Couldn’t he have done all that with us?

“You okay?” Violet’s tone carries caution.

I nod, turning toward her, forcing myself to shake off what I’m feeling. “Yeah, I’m good… I’m going to try and call my uncle and see if I can go to Vegas and crash with him for a week.”

She lingers in the doorway. “You have an uncle that lives in Vegas?”

I nod. “But I barely know him. I’m just hoping he might do me a favor,” I say then dial his number.

After I call him up and have a five-minute conversation with him that mainly centers on gambling, he tells me, “Sure, come the fuck down here. We can totally hit up a few underground games and see what we can come up with.” He says it like he understands, which he probably does, since he’s a lot like me, only about fifteen years older. So I get up to go finish packing, while Violet stands in the doorway not uttering a word, but the worry in her eyes says a lot.

“What about school?” she finally asks as she shifts her weight.

My obsessive need tries to take me over, but I tell it to shut the fuck up. “I can miss a week. It’s not a big deal.” I add my container that carries the medicines for my diabetes into my bag.

“You always made it seem like a big deal,” she says, plopping down on the mattress beside my bag. “And trust me, if anyone gets that, I do.”

“I know you do,” I tell her, both loving and hating that we have so much in common; love because of how much I want to be with her and hate because of how much I want to be with her.

“Vegas is really far,” she says. “Can’t you do the gambling here?”

“No.” I keep my head tipped down, knowing if I look up and see her on the bed, I’m going to lose it and I need to focus right now. “I just need to get out and get some money made where no one knows my reputation. And I don’t want to be hanging out here with Seth and Greyson, while I’m cleaning up this mess. This is my mess not theirs.” I pick up my bag from the floor and swing it over my shoulder. “And it’s the only option I have at the moment.”

She bites at her fingernail, clearly nervous. “For how long?”

I shrug, getting a couple of painkillers from the dresser and swallowing them down with my spit. If they don’t kick in soon, I’m going to be in some serious pain. “For as long as it takes.”

“But isn’t that a little risky? I mean, you could lose your money and do you really want to be messing around with stuff like that in Vegas. Aren’t things like really intense down there?”

“Every where’s intense when you really think about it. And it’s the only option I have at the moment. And besides, my uncle knows what he’s doing.”

She’s quiet as I go over to my closet to grab my jacket. I hear her phone go off in her pocket again and when I turn around, she’s chewing on her bottom lip with uncertainty written all over her face as she reads the message.

Shaking her head, she stuffs the phone into her pocket. “Want some company? I mean on the road or whatever.” She gives a nonchalant shrug, indifferent on the outside, but I can tell she’s hiding something on the inside.

“You want to come on the road with me? Seriously?” Something really bad must be going on if she’s choosing to be around me.

There’s so much fear and pain in her eyes that I want to grab her, hug her, and never let her go. The look is a total change from when she was on the ledge of the building and she looked high. I thought she was for a moment, but I think it might have been some sort of weird adrenaline rush. “I could use the break.” She shrugs and I wonder who texted her a few minutes ago and it if has anything to do with her sudden okayness to be near me. I’m guessing it was Preston and he’s angry that she just lost one of his clients. Fucking prick. He probably threatened her.

“I thought you hated missing class?” Excluding the riskiness of her going, I’m still reluctant. It’s like I can’t get past the fact that it doesn’t really seem like she necessarily wants to go with me, so much as she wants to escape something. And the idea of being on the road with her, sleeping under the same roof, when she really doesn’t want to be with me, doesn’t seem like something I can handle without losing it. And I can’t lose it right now—I need to pull my act together and get some cash made quickly.

She presses her lips together and abruptly gets up. “Yeah, you’re right. I don’t even know why I’m asking.” She hurries for the door, but I catch her arm and stop her.

“I’m just wondering why you want to go with me after,” I motion between the two of us, trying to find the right words, “everything that’s happened over the last couple of months.”

“I need an escape too. I can’t… I don’t…” She huffs in frustration, finally making eye contact with me and it’s overwhelming to the point that my legs almost buckle. “Look, if you don’t want me to go with you then you don’t have to let me.”

I want to ask her what she needs to escape from, but she’s closed off and I know her well enough that she’s not going to tell me, not now anyway. “I want you to go,” I say, my grip loosening on her arm. “But I also don’t want you to get even further into this mess.”

“This mess is a lot better than my alternative,” she mutters under her breath. “Trust me.”

“Violet, I…” I trail off, realizing that I can press her all I want, but she’s not going to open up to me like she used to. I can almost see the wall around her, the one she had before we were together. Only it’s twenty times thicker and sturdier this time. “Come with me…. I want you to.”

“Okay, if that’s what you want,” she says nonchalantly, but a glimmer of that I-won attitude flashes through it and gives me a brief glimpse of the Violet that made me want to change everything about myself—try to be a good person.

“Okay then,” I say and it feels like we’ve made some sort of silent agreement in our exchange, but I haven’t read the fine print yet. “Are you ready to go? No, you’ll probably need to stop by… your place, right? I mean, for clothes and stuff.” I’m rambling, nervous, like a fucking pussy who’s never spent time with a woman before.

“I guess so,” she says flatly. “I mean, yeah. I need to go… to the house to get my stuff.”

I frown, feeling rage inside my chest hotter than a goddamn wildfire as I pick up on a vibe she’s trying to keep hidden. “Is there something going on with that fucking douche bag... he hasn’t… he hasn’t hit you or anything? Because I’ll beat the shit out of him if he has.”

“No we’re fine—everything’s fine.” She slips her arm from my hand. “Let’s go if we’re going to do this. I’ll call Greyson on the way and see if he can cover my shifts at the diner.” She cringes as if the idea makes her uncomfortable.

I sigh and follow after her as she walks out of my bedroom, knowing I’m making a huge mess and should try to be fixing it. But I can’t find the will to stop it so I walk straight into the train wreck.

Violet

I’m in deep shit. I knew this even before I got the text from Preston. The text just confirmed it.

Preston: Just got a text from Roy. Dammit Violet, you’re going to fucking pay for making me lose a client like this. And it’s going to be worse than the last time. I swear to fucking God, you’re going to owe me for the rest of your life.

The text replays in my head over and over again as I try to get the courage to get out of the truck and go into the trailer house to get my stuff. I don’t want to be a coward, but I can’t stop thinking about how I’ve been “paying” for my fuck ups for the last two months, the bruises on my leg marking my payment and my penitence.

It’s sundown, the stars are out, the porch light of the trailer house is on. There’s a party going on, cars lining the driveway, people standing out on the deck and loitering in the yard. It’ll make it easier to slip in unnoticed, but worse if Preston runs into me. He’ll probably be high on something and less controllable.

“I’m going to go in with you,” Luke tells me, shutting off the engine and unbuckling his seatbelt.

I want to argue with him, because I don’t want to rely on him like that, but dammit I need someone right now, so I nod then get out of the truck. When we meet at the front, I don’t move away from him, letting his nearness calm me down. I’m not stupid. I know this is all going to come crashing down on me soon, especially when we’re on the road and all the unspoken stuff between us comes pouring out. But right now I just want to pretend he makes me feel safe again, that I didn’t run away, didn’t mess everything up—that his mother didn’t help kill my parents.

When I reach the top of the stairs, I squeeze between the drunk and stoned people blocking our path, and come to a halt in front of the screen door. Preston is in the living room, talking animatedly to his pothead friends with a joint in his hand. There’s music playing from the stereo and empty liquor bottles all over the kitchen countertops.

“Maybe I should go in by myself,” I say to Luke, but they’re just words that have no true meaning behind them.

He doesn’t say anything, taking my hand in his, he opens the screen door, and we walk into the house. Preston doesn’t look in our direction at first, engulfed in a conversation, but when I steer Luke through the crowd to the hallway, he notices me. He gives me a dark look mixed with lust that makes vomit burn at the back of my throat. Then he notices Luke and the lust turns to anger.

“What the fuck’s going on?” he asks and suddenly the entire room is looking at us. Smoke encircles around me, a potent snake that stings at my nostrils and smells like weed, sweat, and various different alcohols.

I’m not one to shy away, but I’m more tense than usual, a reaction linked to the reason why there are bruises covering my leg. “I came to get my stuff.” Surprisingly, however, my voice sounds strong.

Preston lets out a laugh, handing the joint to a tall, lanky guy beside him before crossing the room toward me, shoving people out of his way who look about as dazed and confused as they can get. “What? You’re moving out again?” His cold glare lands on Luke. “With this asshole?” Preston doesn’t like Luke considering Luke kicked his ass once.

“I don’t know if I’m moving out yet,” I say as Luke’s fingers wander up my wrist, gently stroking my skin, sending a calmness through my body I’ve never felt before. “But I need a break from you and all this crap.” I raise my chin, voice strong, despite my inner jitteriness. I’ve always been good at faking it when needed. I can be calm in the snap of a finger even when I’m not. Pretend I don’t care when I really do. Act like I don’t feel a goddamn thing for someone, when really I feel everything for them.

Preston’s right in front of me now and I can see that look in his eyes again, the one that came before the bruises that are on my legs. “You’re making a big mistake.” His voice is low and carries a warning, just like it always does when he’s threatening me.

I should have fought more.

Should have bruised the shit out of him.

Should have. Could have. Would have.

“I just need a break,” I repeat. Stay firm.

“A break from what? Having a roof over your head? Food on your plate? A ride?” He pauses, his gaze flicking in Luke’s direction, then he leans down in my face, so close I can feel his hot breath on my cheek. “Or being a little whore that you are ever single day. You fucking cunt. You use me to live her—use your little fucking mouth and body to get what you want.”

Luke’s hand is suddenly leaving my arm and he roughly shoves Preston back, causing him to stumble over his feet and almost fall. “Back the fuck off,” he warns. “Or I’m going to make you.”

I can take care of this. I don’t need you, I want to say, but I can barely breathe, let alone speak. Everyone is looking at me to, in the midst of my weakness, about to have a meltdown. I need something. I need something…

“Bend over,” Preston said, pushing me toward the bed. “Come of V, bend over and take it like you want to.”

“What I want to do is knee you in the balls, Preston,” I said back. “And if you touch me again, I just might—”

He grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled hard. “And what?” Another tug, but I refuse to wince. Show pain. I am a fucking calm before the storm. I am untouchable. No one can hurt me. “Come on tough girl, let me hear all the terrible things you’re going to do to me.”

I wanted to tell him everything, how much of an ass he was being, to get his hands off me, to go fuck himself, but then I remembered how the last time I did, he made me move out and how this time I wouldn’t have Luke to save my sorry ass. So instead I force myself to relax as he shoved me down on my knees, which end up slamming into the side of the bed. Then he walked around in front of me, shoving me back a little and unzipped his pants…

“I’m l-leaving for a week or so,” I stammer then dodge around Preston, loathing how unsteady I feel, wobbly, like I’m walking a tightrope, about to fall blindly into the unknown.

“You leave and I’m not taking you back this time!” he calls out after me, anger burning in his tone and slamming into my back. “You need me Violet Hayes! I’m all you got anymore!”

“Fuck you!” I snap venomously, turning and flipping him the bird. “I hate it here and I fucking hate you.” Shit. Oh God. Oh shit. No.

“You ungrateful little bitch,” he seethes, storming after me, his veins bulging, more angry than I’ve ever seen him, which makes me wonder how hard he’s going to hit me if he gets close enough, but I never get to find out because Luke shoves him back again and Preston slams into the wall, stunned.

“Leave her the fuck alone,” Luke warns as he follows me through the crowd with his fists raised. “She’s way better off not being here—she deserves better—and you’re going to let her go or else I’m going to have to make you let her go you sick son of a bitch.”

Preston gives a sharp laugh and there’s something almost psychopathic about it, so uncontrolled, so irrational. I know what’s coming before he even says it. “You think she’s better than me.” He laughs again, his voice following me as I rush toward the hall. “You want to know why I call her a whore? Ask her how she pays her debt to me and she can try to tell you that she doesn’t like it, but by the moaning I can tell that she does.”

I cover my ears and run back to the room, not wanting to see or hear Luke’s reaction to what Preston tells him next, not wanting to feel the shame on the inside. When I get to the room, I head for the closet to get my bag, but then realize that Luke may not want me to come with him, now that Preston’s let that cat out of the bag.

“Fucking douche,” I curse under my breath as I stand in the darkness of the room, unsure what to do. I want to grab a razor and slit my wrists, but am I ready to go that far?

Finally, I sit down on the floor, bring my legs to my chest, and rest my head on my knees. “Why, why, why, can’t I ever stand up to him? I’m a badass to everyone else, but to him, I’m so weak.”

“It’s not your fault.” The sound of Luke’s voice makes me stiffen. Great, he heard me in a weak moment. So weak. “He abuses his power as a parent and makes you feel helpless.”

I smash my lips together and lift my head to look up at him. He’s just a shadow in the darkness, unreadable and I shove my emotions down, wanting to be unreadable too. “Are you speaking from experience?”

“Yes,” he says simply, inching across the room toward me. “My mother abused her power a lot.”

It’s something that’s haunted me since the day I walked out of the apartment—walked away from him. Luke hated his mom, something I learned early on when I first met him. He’d told me a few vague stories about how she’s made him shoot her up with heroin. I’m sure that was barely getting to the surface of the problems that woman caused and part of me had felt bad for blaming him for something she did. It wasn’t Luke’s fault my parents are dead, but he painfully reminded me of what happened—still does.

“Maybe I shouldn’t go with you,” I say heavy-heartedly. “It probably wasn’t such a good idea in the first place… you and...” I shake the thought out of my head, because I want it too much. It’s better if I don’t go, although, I don’t really have anywhere to live anymore unless I’m willing to sacrifice my dignity and more.

He pauses, then he backs up to the light switch and flips it on. I blink against the brightness of the light as he searches my face for something—I have no idea what—then he says, “No, you’re coming with me. There’s no way I’m going to leave you here.” He glances over his shoulder at the door. “With him. It’s not healthy, the way he treats you, and looks at you.” His gaze collides with mine and a flicker of safeness rises inside me, but it only makes me ache more. “You need to stay away from him, Violet. You deserve better than that.” His lips drop to my mouth, but it happens so quickly my brain can barely register it before he’s speaking again. “Much, much better.”

I want to argue with him, not just about what he said but about how bad it is for me to go with him. Luke and I have yet to even begin to confront the major thing that tore us apart two months ago, so taking off without dealing with that seems like such an impulsive, potentially disastrous thing to do. But I’d rather deal with Luke then deal with Preston anymore. Living with him has been a nightmare and I need to breathe without feeling like my lungs are crushing me, if only for a moment. So I get up and pack my stuff, knowing that I’m only running away from my problems and avoiding the ones in front of me. And eventually I know it’s all going to crash down on me.

It always does.