Текст книги "The Probability of Violet and Luke"

Автор книги: Jessica Sorensen

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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 12 страниц)

As I tiredly drag my sore ass up the stairs, I try to remember how I got to this point in time, how I messed up my life so badly. Tired. Beat up. Broke. Alone. The last one might not be so true. That’s really up to Violet and whether she’ll ever have me again. Honestly, she’d be better off without me, at least until I clean my act up, but I’m too selfish to walk away from her.

That’s what I’m trying to convince myself not to be—selfish—when I enter the room and see her lying in bed, the covers kicked down, wearing one of my shirts, her long legs stretched out, I realize I need her. Through the insanity of my life, Violet is the one sane thing I have, even if our relationship is insane itself.

She’s left a lamp on, so there’s a soft trail of light in the small room. I tug my shirt off and slip my boots off as I make my way to the bed, pausing when I get beside it to unbutton my jeans and take them off. Her back is to me, her head resting against the pillow, her hair lose and down her back. I reach forward and brush it aside, then trace my fingertips along the two stars on her neck, her skin so soft and familiar, everything I want.

I can barely remember the first time I ever had sex and all the times after are a blur until I met Violet. Sure, it always felt good, for me at least. Not sure about the women since I didn’t care nor did I stick around long enough to ask. There was something about having that kind of control over a person like that—where I could just walk away before they ever used me—that made me feel briefly content. It would always fade though and I’d only get the contentment again when I fucked the next one and so on and so on. I’ve never actually been with anyone more than once, including Violet, but not because I used her and bailed like with the rest of the women I’ve been with. Violet has always been different from anyone else I’ve been with. I knew that the first moment she literally fell into me. At the time, I didn’t know what exactly made her different or why I had the sudden need to be around the same woman for more than an hour. But now I think I know.

Because I’m in love with her. But I can’t tell her that. Not yet. I’m not ready and neither is she. In fact, I’m not sure she’ll ever be ready for that, at least with me, but I want to stick around and find out—be there for her.

Sucking in a deep breath over this terrifying revelation to myself, I climb into the bed and press up against her, wrapping my arms around her, slipping one underneath the crook of her neck so her head is resting on my arm like a pillow. I feel her jump a little and I half expect her to wake up out of her nightmare and be in panic, like she normally is whenever she wakes up. But she must have been awake the entire time, because she barely stirs before she relaxes against me.

“You smell like cigars,” she mutters as my fingers drift up and down her side. “And beer.”

I pull her closer against me and breathe in her scent; something vanilla with a hint of perfume that makes me briefly shut my eyes and get lost. “You look good in my shirt,“ I whisper, opening my eyes, then I sweep her hair out of the way and kiss the sensitive spot on her neck, right below her jawline, letting my lips linger there to taste her skin.

“Luke…” She almost sounds torn, her fingers finding my arm and digging into my skin. I wait for her to pull away, stop us from doing something, but then her back curves in and her ass presses against my cock.

The contact of it makes me groan and bite down on her skin more roughly than I intended on doing. In response, her nails stab into my skin, her back arching even more as my knee slides between her legs and I slip my hand up underneath her shirt to grip her hip, her skin warm.

“God, you feel so good…” I trail off as I start sucking on her neck and rubbing my knee against her while she begins rocking her hips with my movements, causing my cock to go rock hard. I could seriously be content with this, just touching her, and it’s frightening that I don’t need to take more, even though I want it. Need is so much different than want. Need is something driven by an addiction while want is something I want do to. Want. I want Violet.

She must think the opposite though because suddenly she’s slipping out from my hold. My eyes widen as she moves away from me, but then she turns around, climbing on top of me and straddling me. Reaching for the collar of her shirt, she yanks it over her head and tosses it onto the floor, strands of her red and black hair falling to her bare shoulders. She’s not wearing a bra or panties and when her nipples hit the air they instantly get hard, which makes my cock instantly get more eager.

“Fuck, baby, I…” I trail off as she helps me slip my boxers off and then returns to my lap. I’ve never had a girl take control like this before. Usually I’m the one that needs the control. And it’s hard not to grab her and flip her over, take things over, but I manage to stay put beneath her and see where this goes.

A small smile touches her lips as she places her hands on my shoulders and pins me down to the mattress. “I think you were going to say something along the lines of I win.” Then she reaches down and grabs my jeans from off the floor. Before I can ask her what she’s doing, she sits back up and puts a condom down on my chest.

“How did you know one was in there?” I ask, picking up the condom.

She shrugs, brushing her hair out of her eyes. “I just assumed.”

I frown. “You know I haven’t been with anyone since you, right?”

“I wouldn’t blame you if you had,” she says. “We weren’t together.”

“Well, I haven’t.” And it’s the truth. Sure I’ve thought about messing around, taking my mind off stuff, but going through with it was too hard and always thinking of Violet would put an end to it before things ever got too far.

“I guess you’re a little deprived then.” She rocks her hips, rubbing her wetness against my cock. Jesus, I swear she knows exactly how to get under my skin, in the best fucking way possible.

Something snaps inside me, something that I’ve never felt before. And I feel even more helpless when she starts to lower herself down on me, slipping my dick inside her. Halfway down, I can’t take it anymore and with one hard thrust, I slam my hips against her and thrust my cock deep inside her.

She immediately winces and bites down on her lip, her muscles tightening around me. I freeze, suddenly remembering that she’s only had sex once, and that was two months ago. She’s still tight as hell and I was rough. Really, really fucking rough.

“Shit, did I hurt you,” I ask, sweeping some of her hair out of her face as her fingernails stab into my shoulders.

She shakes her head, the pain in her expression shifting to pleasure as she rolls her hips. “No… it feels good, just a little intense… it’s been a while…” She repeats the rolling movement over and over again with her hips, going slowly, as if she’s savoring the sensations, her hands going to her shoulders and she runs her fingers down her body.

It’s driving me crazy, watching her eyes gloss over, her lips part as she presses down on me, touching herself, totally in control. Finally, I lose it again and start moving with her, thrusting my hips upward, my hands finding her waist and holding on. I move slow at first, but then get faster, harder, rougher the more she moans. Her grip on me loosens as her head starts to fall back and I sit up, still holding onto her and moving, so I can press my lips to hers. She kisses back briefly, but is so lost in the moment, she ends up biting down on my bottom lip.

“Harder,” she gasps, pressing against me as I rock into her, our movements matching perfectly. “Oh God… please… harder…”

I’m terrified beyond imaginable. Seriously. I can’t think about anything else but her. Every single part of me belongs to her at that moment. I feel something change inside me, something that makes me want to be a better person forever.

I love you. I want to say. My problems are momentarily forgotten. Life is momentarily forgotten. And all I can do is hold on and hope I never have to let go.

Violet

Holy hell, this is way, way better than the first time I had sex. Less painful. More intense. But I think that might be because Luke is letting go more this time instead of being careful with me.

I’m on top of him, clutching onto his shoulders, while he sits up and thrust deep inside me, the movement of my hips matching his. One of his hands is gripping at my waist, while the other rests at the base of my neck, putting gentle pressure against my flesh as he holds onto me and kisses me with so much passion I can barely breathe.

We keep moving and moving, getting more lost in each other, our skin beading with sweat as we become breathless, exhausted, but it feels way too good to stop—I never want it to stop. And he seems to feel the same way too, savoring each kiss, grip, bite, each brush of our skin and uniting of our bodies until we both fall helplessly into bliss at the same time.

I cry out in sheer pleasure, the sound of my voice unrecognizable as my fingers stab at his skin in desperation, needing to hold onto something. Luke keeps thrusting into me a few moments longer before he starts to slow, pressing one last time deep inside of me as his head collapses against my chest.

He remains still for a while, breathing heavily against my chest, like he’s afraid to move. I kind of don’t want him to either, because everything feels perfect right now, which is rare for me, if nonexistent. But eventually he shifts back down, slipping out of me, but bringing me with him and pulling me against him as we lie in the bed, face to face. As the lamp cast the light over his cheek, I realize there’s a massive lump there, on top of a preexisting bruise and a little bit of dried blood. I’d been so caught up in the intimate moment, I hadn’t realized it was there until now.

“What happened?” I ask, gently placing my hand over the injury. “Did you get in a fight?”

He shrugs, eyes on mine as he leans into my touch as if my hand is soothing him. “A little one, but nothing too major.”

“Did you get caught cheating?”

His breath falters from his lips. “Cole did, but it’s not that big of a deal. I don’t owe any money or anything.”

His voice is off pitch and all that peace we had moments ago shatters into a million pieces I so want to put it back together again. “They took the money, didn’t they?” I ask with a frown.

He doesn’t answer my question, only uttering, “I’ll figure something out.” He blows out a tired breath and then rubs his eyes, appearing worn out.

“”I want to help,” I tell him, tracing the lines of one of his tattoos on his rib cage. There are actually several tattoos on him and he told me once that he went through a phase where he’d get a tattoo every time he felt shitty, which meant he felt shitty a lot. “Let me help.”

“I’m not going to let you deal drugs to help me,” he says in a clipped tone, shaking his head. “I’d rather get the shit beat out of me than have you do that and owe him.” His expression softens a little as he puts a hand on my back and gently sketches his finger up and down my spine. “Let me sleep on it. I might have an idea, but I need to figure out how desperate I am.”

I don’t know what his idea is, but it worries me, because the last time I saw that look of pure helplessness on his face was the night he told me that his mother could possibly be my parent’s killer.

Chapter 14

Luke

I watch her sleep for most of the night. Thinking. My head so cluttered I can barely breathe. By the time I’m actually finished the sun is coming up and I’ve had absolutely no sleep whatsoever. It’s been that way for the last couple of months and between that and the drinking, I’m starting to feel the effects of it on my body. Constantly tired, I wonder how I’m ever going to survive football season if I don’t get my act together.

My act together.  It seems like I have so much to do before that can ever be possible, but as I lie here looking at Violet asleep in my arms, I want to do it more than anything.

As the sun rises higher and lights up the room, I decide to take the first step, even though I don’t want to at all. I begrudgingly get out of bed and grab my phone to make a call I never thought I could make in a million years. But the alternative, staying here until I can figure something else out, isn’t something I want to do anymore.

It’s still early in California, but my dad answers after three rings. “Luke, is everything okay?”

I swear to God it’s like he knows I need something. “Not really.” I pause, waiting for him to say something but he doesn’t as I stare out the window. “Look, I need a favor…. I need to borrow some money.” If he turns me down again, I don’t think I can ever ask him for anything.

“Okay.” He already sounds wary. “How much do you need?”

I glance over my shoulder as Violet stirs in the bed, then make my way over to the bathroom attached to the room and go inside so I don’t wake her up. “Nine grand.”

He lets out a slow, low whistle. “Shit, Luke. That’s a lot of money.”

“I know it is.” I shut the door, recline against it, and slide to the floor. “I wouldn’t be asking if it wasn’t an emergency.”

“Are you in some kind of trouble?”

“You could say that.” I hesitate, not sure I want to tell him, not wanting to give him the right of knowing me yet, but then suddenly there’s all this pressure inside my chest and it explodes without warning. Everything comes pouring out of me. And not just the gambling part. I tell him how much I drink. What happened between Violet and I. Everything my mom did. Even what I found in Amy’s journal. And by the end I’m crying, like a scared little boy. It makes me feel so pathetic. So weak. So out of control, like when I lived with my mother, and part of me hates myself, but the other part feels relieved, like I can breathe again.

“Luke, we’re going to fix this,” my dad says after I finally stop sobbing long enough for him to speak again.

“You can’t fix it,” I say, sucking back the tears. “Not most of it anyway.”

“Well, I’m going to fix what I can,” he tells me so calmly. I don’t even know how he’s doing it. I just piled on twenty years of baggage onto him and he’s cool as can be. “And the rest we’ll figure out together.” He pauses as if he’s collecting himself. “The first thing I’m going to do is wire you the money. You can head back to Laramie and it should be there by the time you get there. Then you’ll pay back this Geraldson guy.”

I wipe the tears from my eyes with the back of my hand. “And then what?”

“And then I want you to come visit me,” he says and before I can protest, he adds, “Just for a week, so we can talk and maybe get to know each other a little bit better... I’d like to get to know my son.”

“You think talking is going to help?” I question skeptically. “Because I’m not so sure.”

“I think it’s a step… and if you’ll let me, I’d like to take that step with you and hopefully more steps.” He sighs. “I know I haven’t been there for you and I can’t make up for the past.” Now he sounds like he’s choking up. “But I’d like to try my damn hardest. You just need to let me try.”

“I have football practice starting in a couple of weeks,” I say. “And classes. It’s hard for me to go somewhere right now.”

“Can you take some time off?” he asks, hopeful. “Just a week or so.”

“I hate taking time off. And I’ve already missed more than I’m comfortable with.” I’m being a pain in the ass, still uneasy about the whole thing. Well, more like frightened. When I was younger, it was all I thought about all those times during the needles, hugs, petting, madness. That he would come back and save me, but he never did and I nearly rotted to death in that house. And now, it’s hard to let that all go.

“Then I’ll come to you,” he insists determinedly. “If you say it’s okay, I’ll fly out there and see you.”

I run my hand over my head, letting out a stressed breath. “How long would you stay?”

“As long as you want me to,” he replies. “I’d take a few hours at this point.”

“That’s a far flight for a couple of hours.”

“No, it’s not.” The way he says it makes me want to cry again, but I suck the tears back before they spill out.

“Fine, you can come out if you want.” I push myself to my feet. “And you can stay for a few days.”

It takes him a second to respond and when he finally does, I can tell he’s crying but trying not to let me hear it. “Good. I’m so glad. I’m so, so glad.”

It feels so strange and unbelievable, letting stuff go that I’ve been carrying around forever. I just hope that it all works out, but I’m not holding my breath just yet.

Chapter 15

Violet

When I wake up, Luke’s not in the bed and I have this strange moment where I flip out, not just because Luke isn’t there beside me but also over the way I wake up. My usual gasping ritual is absent, instead my eyes simply opening and all I can think is: What the hell?

It’s more frightening than anything. I’ve been waking up that way and now suddenly I’m not. It feels like a part of me has gone missing and I don’t know what to do with it.

And then my text goes off and makes things worse.

Unknown: Why did you call the police? U fucking cunt. You’re so dead.

I’m trying not to flip out as I read the message over, when Luke walks out of the bathroom. I take one look at him, though, and the problem gets lost. He’s still in his boxers, his hair ruffled, his jaw scruffy, and his eyes red and puffy—either he’s stoned or he’s been crying. I’m guessing it’s the latter.

“What’s the matter?” I sit up quickly, the blanket falling from my chest. I’m still naked from last night and his gaze drifts to my chest, but only for an instant then he rubs his eyes and sighs.

“I called my dad.” He stares down at the floor, a crease at his brow, confused. “I couldn’t think of anything else to do, so I called him and asked him for the money.”

“What’d he say?” I know very little about Luke and his dad’s relationship, other than they don’t have one and Luke has had no interest in having one with him because of his absence during his childhood, so if he asked him for help then it’s a huge deal.

He scratches at the back of his neck, exhaling before looking at me. “He said he would, but I have to come let him visit me.”

I set the phone aside on the nightstand and swing my legs over the edge of the bed. “He blackmailed you?”

“No, not really. He just said he’d give me the money and that he wanted to come see me and I kind of just agreed.” He sits down on the bed beside me. “This is so weird.”

Not knowing what else to do, I scoot closer and rub his back. “I’m sorry,” I say. “But I’m glad he’s helping you, instead of you trying to gamble again.” My words are a shocking. Usually, I crave danger, but I’m discovering that if danger means Luke getting hurt it’s not thrilling at all.

“Yeah, I guess I am too.” He lowers his head into his hands. “But we’ll see how it goes. I’m not going to go into this hopeful or anything.” He sits for a while with his head down, breathing softly—I think he might be trying not to cry.

I stay quiet and keep rubbing his back until finally he raises his head back up, trying to discretely wipe the tears away from his eyes. He clears his throat a few times and then gets to his feet, grabbing a pair of jeans from his bag. “I think we should get going,” he tells me. “The last thing I want to do is stay here with Cole. The guy is in way worse than me.” He pulls his jeans on and does up the button. “Which says a lot.”

I nod, then climb out of bed and go over to my bag, his eyes following me the entire way. “I’m actually anxious to get back too,” I say, grabbing a shirt and pair of black pants. “I talked to Detective Stephner last night and even though he wouldn’t tell me anything, I could tell there was something going on with the case.” I slip on the jeans. “I’m hoping it’s good.”

“When will you know?” he asks, pulling a red shirt over his head.

I shrug then put my own shirt on and flip my hair out of the collar. “I’m not sure. He said he might call me this morning but all I got was another text from stalker guy.”

He frowns. “Did you tell the detective about those?”

I nod. “He’s looking into it.”

He presses his lips together as if he wants to say something, but then thinks against it and starts wandering around the room, picking up his stuff and packing his bag. I start packing too, not bothering to fold my clothes. It’s actually a habit I picked up from when I was young. After packing for the fifth time to change homes, I gave up and just stuffed everything in it. And didn’t bother unpacking when I got to my new home.

“You think it’s about my mom?” Luke asks so suddenly it throws me off guard and takes me a moment to respond. “What the detective can’t tell you yet? Do you think it has something to do with my mom?”

I zip up my bag and pick it up. “I wonder… maybe.”

“I hope it is,” he says, anger lacing his tone. I know that he means it—that he wants her locked up just as much as I do. He swings the bag over his shoulder, his muscles jerking a little as if they’re sore. Then he walks up to me and gives me a soft kiss on the cheek.

“You ready?” he asks, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear and looking me steadily in the eye. It seems like he’s asking me much more than if I’m ready to leave his uncle’s house. Like if I’m ready to go back to Laramie. To live with him.

I nod, not sure which question I’m answering, but I guess I’ll find out when we get there.

* * *

Luke’s uncle seems really upset when we walk downstairs to leave, arguing with Luke over wanting to call his father and borrow some money. Luke says nothing about the fact that he already, I guess deciding to let Cole clean up his own mess. Irate, Cole stumbles over to the coffee table in the living room and chugs about a half a bottle of Vodka. “To ease the pain of the beating,” he says when he notices us watching him. Then he flops down on the sofa and moments later he passes out.

Ryler seems like he wants to go with us, just to get out of the house, lingering in the foyer as Luke drops his bag onto the floor to give him one of those awkward one-armed hugs guys do.

“You can come hangout with us whenever,” Luke tells him, pulling back and picking up his bag, his eyes drifting to the living room where Cole’s on his back, his arm dangling over the side of the sofa. “Even if it’s just for a break.”

Ryler smiles but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes as he lifts his hands, What the hell would I do in Wyoming?

Luke looks to me for translation and when I pass a long the message, he says, “The University’s pretty cool there.”

He raises his pierced eyebrow, amused. Me go to school? That’s a funny idea. I barely made it through high school.

“Hey, I was the same way. In fact, I almost dropped out,” I tell him, feeling strange that I’m talking about my past so lightly. “And I actually like college.”

Really? He mouths and I nod. He pauses, looking back at his dad who was never there for him growing up, beaten up and passed out drunk on the sofa and then mouths to me, Maybe one day.

I nod then he gives Luke and I his phone number and we finish saying good-bye. Then Luke and I hit the road. It’s early, the sky glowing orange from the sunrise, which means we should get there before sunset. We’re a few days earlier then we planned, which means we’ll be missing less classes and I think Luke and I can both appreciate that fact. We spend half the drive listening to his music and he playfully tells me he’s going to make us a fuck tape of our own when we get home. He keeps saying we and I know I should be grateful, that I have a place to live with people who care about me, but it’s scaring me at the same time. God, if I could just have one more moment with my parents so they could tell me that this is all okay. That I’m doing the right thing.

As I’m in the middle of this thought, my phone starts to vibrate from inside my pocket. I quickly turn down the music and take out my phone, letting out a breath of relief when I see the screen. “It’s the detective,” I tell Luke and he nods, looking as nervous as me.

“Please say you can tell me now,” I say as I put the phone up to my ear.

“I can, but it’s both good and bad news,” he tells me, sounding a bit disheartened. “The good news is I finally got that warrant to search Mira Price’s home. And we found something that could be potentially useful but we’ll still need to run some DNA tests right now to confirm.” He gives a long pause. “And then there’s the bad news. Two bad newes actually.”

“That’s not even a word.” I make a joke to attempt to hide my true feelings.  That I’m excited and terrified at the same time. They might have evidence. My parents might finally have justice.

Luke gives me a concerned sideways glance as he steers the truck down the freeway. “Is everything okay?” he whispers.

I shrug and whisper back, “I’ll let you know in a minute.”

“Well, I’m declaring it a word for this conversation,” he says and then sighs, losing all humor. “The first bad news is that Mira is MIA and from talking to the neighbors and landlord, she’s been gone for a while.”

I glance over at Luke, wondering if he might know where she is. “So what does that mean exactly?”

“It means that even if we can make the arrest, we have to find her first.”

I want to hit something. Scream until my lungs burst. This isn’t fair! This isn’t fair. God dammit! “And what’s the second thing?” My voice shakes as my pulse hammers.

It takes him a second or two to answer and when he does, he sounds reluctant. “We found out who’s been sending those texts to you… We tracked the calls to Preston Parkington, the guy you’ve been living with.”

“What?” I exclaim, ready to bombard him with questions and Luke’s head whips in my direction. “But that’s not even possible… how could he… I don’t get it…” What the hell? Is this my punishment? For messing up?

“It gets worse,” Detective Stephner says. “Due to the threatening material in the text, we were in the right to go to his house and question him, but the trailer had been vacated when we got there.”

“But he was just living there a few days ago... I was there… I saw him.” My heart is thrashing in my chest, my pulse soaring a million miles a minute and I hate the adrenaline rush inside me right now, so much. “He has to be doing this to get back at me, because I left.”

“That’s what I thought too, but then I started doing some research on him, a background check and what not and found out a few things that have brought up a big concern.”

“Like what?”

“Like he has a record. The fact that he changed his name about fourteen years ago. He used to go by Danny Huntersonly.”

“But why would he change his name?” I shake my head, trying to ignore Luke’s worried look boring into the side of my head. “And why would child services ever let him take me in?”

“Well, technically the papers state that his girlfriend took you in. A Kelley Arlingford was registered with the state to foster parent.”

“Kelley was his wife.” I grip the door handle for support because I’m veering toward hyperventilation and feel like I’m going to pass out. “When she introduced him to me, she said Preston was her husband and then they got divorced and Preston was talking about how a while ago she was getting remarried.” As soon as I say it though, I know there’s a huge flaw. Because most of my information comes from Preston, so therefore there’s a chance almost everything could be a lie.

“Well, she was lying to you then and the state apparently,” he says. “In your records, Kelley lived alone and the state didn’t even know about Preston, at least from the reports. It’s kind of a flaw in the system I guess, not making sure there was no one living with her. But when children get to be that old… and there’s so maybe of them… sometimes they slip through the cracks.”

He’s telling me stuff I already know, since I lived in those cracks for years. “Did Kelley know about Preston? I mean, did she know about his name change and past?”

“I don’t know, but we’re going to try and find out.” Another pause. “There’s more.”

“Oh God.” My head falls forward and Luke’s hand slides across the seat, his fingers lace through mine, and I hold onto him for dear life. “I don’t think I can take anymore.”

“You need to hear this,” the detective says. “You need to understand the severity.”

“Fine.” I clutch onto Luke’s hand so tightly I’m sure it hurts. “Go head.”

“Did you know Preston had a secret room under his house.”

“Yeah… well, no…” Shit. What do I say? That I knew he kept drugs there. “Well, he kept it locked but I knew that it existed.”

“I figured you didn’t, considering what was in there.”

“Which was what?”

Another pause. I’m beginning to hate the silence. “A room with pictures and articles of you all over the wall… even some of your parents.”

“I don’t understand… why would he have that?” I mean, I know he wanted me and everything but that seems like the move of a stalker… “Why is he doing this? It doesn’t make any sense? I mean, he was always a little weird and controlling, but why all of a sudden would he resort to threatening texts and a crazy room full of pictures?”

He sighs again and I prepare myself for another blow to the gut. “Violet, I’m not sure how much you know about your parents, but back in the beginning of the case there were few suggestions that no one every really mentioned to you, simply because you were too young and honestly we didn’t want it getting out to the public. Keeping certain details a secret can better help us convict the right person. However, now I think you might need to know, but I want you to prepare yourself for it.”

“Okay, I’m prepared.” Biggest lie I ever told and I wouldn’t have had the guts to say it if I would have known what he was going to say next.

“During the first investigation of your parents, the lead detective on the case found some details about your parents—well, your mother anyway—that connected them to a few local drug dealers. It was a past thing, I think that ended a few years after you were born when your mother married your father.”