Текст книги "The Probability of Violet and Luke"
Автор книги: Jessica Sorensen
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Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 12 страниц)
He gives his head a little shake, muttering something under his breath before standing up straight. “Why are you here?”
I gape at him. “I was here first. You’re the one that followed me back here and then forced your way in here.”
He dithers then takes a tentative step toward me, forcing me to take a step back toward the towel rack. “I mean here at Geraldson’s house?” he asks. “You don’t want to be messing around with these people, Violet.” He glances at the shut door then his concerned gaze lands on me. “This isn’t the same as those frat guys you fuck over.”
“You don’t think I know that?” I hiss. “But I don’t have a choice, do I? I live with Preston and this is how I pay him for that.”
“Pay him?” He lets out a flabbergasted laugh as he spans his hands to the side and takes another step toward me, slightly unstable on his feet, which means he’s probably drunk. “The guy is a fucking asshole. You don’t owe him anything… you shouldn’t even be with him.”
I take a step back and then another until I’m bumping into the wall and the towel rack is pressed against my side. I have nowhere else to go besides the shower or out the window. Being in the confined space with whiskey soaring in my system is making the air buzz electrically and my brain foggy. I need to get out… but I kind of don’t want to. “Well, I don’t really have a choice, do I?” I say. “Since I have nowhere else to live at the moment besides the streets.”
His face drains of color and then he reaches out to touch me, as if to soothe me, but I lean my head away as far as it will go. He freezes, appearing horrified. “Why are you so afraid of me?” he asks, his hand lifelessly falling to his side. “I would never hurt you. Not on purpose anyway.”
“I know you wouldn’t, but it still hurts.” We’re talking in code and I want to cry, but I make those damn traitor tears to stay in my eyes. I never cry. Only once, when I found out about Luke’s mother and I promised myself never again—I’m stronger than that. “And besides, I’m afraid of myself being near you, not the other way around.” And I’d like to thank the booze for the last comment.
He swallows hard. “I’m sorry.” His voice is barely audible, so much agony emitting from his eyes that it submerges me. He looks just like I feel and I want to make both of us feel better.
I’m not even sure what overcomes me, if it’s him, me, the powerful, lustful emotions blazing between us, the need to rip his clothes off, or the alcohol searing my veins, but I find myself stepping toward him. I haven’t forgotten or moved past what happened, but I let myself stop caring for a brief second, letting my walls down just enough that I can put my hand on his chest. He sucks in I sharp breath from the contact, his heart rate instantly quickening beneath my palm.
“Fuck,” he utters, then he’s leaning forward and I think he’s going to kiss me, but instead he just rests his forehead against mine. He breathes raggedly, in and out, in and out, his solid chest crashing into my breasts. I wait for him to touch me, but he doesn’t. Wait for him to do something, but he doesn’t. He’s motionless, like he’s giving me the chance to leave. I should. Just walk around him and go out the door. Never look back. But having him this close to me causes intense memories to flood my body, reminds me that being touched by a guy doesn’t have to feel wrong or dirty. That it can feel right. It did once with Luke and I selfishly want it again.
Suppressed emotions, alcohol, and a hunger I’ve never felt before possess me and suddenly I’m crashing my lips against his. He sucks in a startled breath, slanting back slightly as if to pull away, but then in a snap of a finger he’s grabbing me by the hips and yanking me against him as he seals his mouth to mine. The heat of him… the taste of him… it’s so potent… so wrong… so right… so confusing.
“I can stop,” he whispers against my mouth, his tongue parting my lips, his hand cupping the back of my head and tangling through my hair. He taste like Vodka and cherries and smells like cigarettes and cologne. Delicious and dangerous, for many different reasons.
I wonder if he actually would stop if I told him to. I don’t want to find out though. Not right now. So I arch my back into him and press my chest to his, while I delve deeper into the kiss, running my fingers along his scruffy jawline, being gentle where the bruise is. I’m remembering everything that went on between us… God, do I remember… and it feels so amazingly, blissfully good. Each graze of his lips and brush of his fingers feels like it’s erasing every unwanted touch over the last couple of months as if Luke has erasing super abilities.
His hands find my hips, his fingernails digging into my flesh as he forces me closer while he backs up, without breaking the kiss. He’s moving us somewhere… to the countertop. He leans me back, the edge digging into my back, before he picks me up and sets me down on it, positioning himself between my legs and our hips grind together.
“Oh my God….” I let out a porn star moan, but am completely unashamed as I try to rip off his shirt, but it doesn’t work like it does in the movies and I end up just stretching it out.
He lets out a soft chuckle at my failed attempt, but the noise gets caught in his throat. “You taste so much better than I remember,” he says in a husky voice before sucking my bottom lip into his mouth, deliberately, causing a slow burn to build inside me that only amplifies when his hands wander up the front of my thighs and underneath my dress. Needing to touch more of him, I sneak my fingers up the front of his shirt and feel the lean muscles flex beneath my hands. His breath falters as if I’m driving him mad. It’s different, somehow, from the last time we were together, like he’s gotten more vulnerable.
“I don’t want to let you go,” he says, between kisses as his fingers graze the edge of my panties, his movements rough and sloppy, built by desperation.
Suddenly I’m reminded why we haven’t touched each other in two months, and what I’ve been doing with Preston for two months, and why I should pull back. If I was a good person, I would. I’d put my parents above my horniness and just tell Luke what I let Preston do to me, how I let him touch me. I know it would get him to stop, but I guess I’m not a good person. Never really have been. And the adrenaline pulsating through my body, instilled by Luke’s touch and kisses, isn’t helping either.
Keeping my thoughts to myself, I slant against the mirror behind me, surprising him at first as out lips disconnect. His eyelids lift open and he’s worried that I’m stopping this, but I grab the front of his shirt and draw him to me until our lips reunite. Then we kiss each other deeply, our tongues entangled, his fingers slipping into my panties and inside me and I bite down on his lip as his touch brings me pleasure not pain and shame like I thought it would, like Preston’s does.
At one point, Luke leans back slightly, watching me as I get lost, drifting away from the reality that I wake up hating every day, while holding onto him, moments later falling apart in his arms. There’s a pause as the haze and heat leave my body and mind and I can tell he thinks I’m going to bail—I can see it in his eyes. I have no intentions on doing so and I slant forward to kiss him again. But right as our lips brush, we’re interrupted by a knock on the door.
“Luke, get the fuck out here.” Another loud bang and the whole door rattles. “We have a huge fucking problem we need to discuss.”
I feel Luke’s muscles go rigid as he moves away and stares at the door, trying to figure something out as he scratches his head. Recollection slowly clicks across his face and he staggers away from the door, patting the back pockets of his jeans before rummaging around in all of them. “Fuck, I’m screwed.” He pats his plaid shirt pocket and lets out a frustrated breath.
I hop off the counter and readjust my dress over my legs. “What’s wrong?”
He swiftly shakes his head. “It’s nothing.” Without looking at me, he blows out a breath. “You need to go.” His gaze finally resides on me and through the drunken dazedness I detect a hint of fear. “Walk out of here, leave this fucking house, and don’t come back.”
Someone knocks against the door again. “Luke, if you don’t get out here now, I’m going to have to bust the fucking door down and that’s just going to piss Geraldson off more.”
I shake my head, tucking wilds strands of my hair behind my ears. “I’m not leaving until you tell me what you did,” I tell Luke, but then seconds later I put two and two together “Did you cheat?”
He puts his finger to his lips, urging me to be quiet. “I always do,” he whispers.
“We found the fucking ace that fell out of your pocket!” The guy shouts from the other side. There’s a deafening bang as he probably rams himself into the door. “I warned you not to do this man!”
“Shit, we have to get you out of here…” He scans the bathroom for another way besides out the door and into the wrath of a very angry, very big guy who probably has a gun.
It seems like I should be more worried than I am, but this is nothing new to me. I’ve been chased down by people I’ve ripped off before, on more than one occasion—it’s how I met Luke. I know there’s more danger considering who the people are, but at the same time that sick addiction of mine is manifesting and telling me to bask in it because it’ll erase the emotions trying to shove up inside me, emotions Luke’s fingers and lips just brought out in me.
Still, I search for another way out of the bathroom and then remember that there’s a window near the shower. “Jackpot,” I say as I walk over to the shower, step inside, and lift the window up. A gentle breeze blows in as I stare down the three-story drop. Not too bad. Doable maybe.
“Are you fucking crazy?” Luke gapes at me as I pop out the screen, letting it fall to the ground below then stick my head out to calculate what I’m up against. No fences. There are cars down there, but hey it wouldn’t be the first time I had to land on a car before. “We’re on the third floor for God sakes.”
“Yeah but that… could be… doable…” I glance over my shoulder at him and am alarmed by the fear in his eyes. But then I think of his sister and how she committed suicide in an act similar to this and feel sort of bad. But still, the other alternative isn’t that great. “I’ll go first if you want me to.”
Shaking his head, he snatches ahold of my wrist. “I don’t want you going anywhere outside the window. I fucking mean it Violet.”
Sighing, I stick my head out, ignoring how tight his grip gets on my arm as I look for other options and moments later find one. “There’s a fire escape just at the corner… and the ledge is pretty thick. We can walk on it and then climb down the fire escape.”
“No.” His voice is firm and so is his hold. “I won’t—”
He’s cut off by the sound of the door being crashed into again, this time to the point where the hinges start to give in. While he’s distracted, I slip my arm out of his hand and hurry and climb out. Whoa, head rush. I brace my hands and back against the wall as the wind slams against my cheeks and hair.
Luke curses under his breath, reaching for my ankle as I balance up on the ledge. My heart thrashes, excited, nervous, terrified. This is everything I need at the moment and I calmly crouch down and extend my hand to Luke.
“Come on,” I say, so calm it’s terrifying, how terror can settle me. “It’s not so bad. I promise.”
He starts to protest but the banging grows louder and without any more hesitation, he’s grabbing my hand and ducking out, his body shivering either from the fear of heights or the fact that there’s a guy with a gun about to break down the door.
Luke works to catch his breath as he stands beside me, staring down at the three-story fall, his eyes wide. “Shit, this is intense… I seriously hate heights.”
Still holding onto his hand, I inch my way across the ledge with my back pressed against the side of the building, guiding him with me. “You act like you’ve never had to escape out a window before.” I cast him an amused glance in his direction, feeling way to at peace with the situation, but I can’t help it. This is what calms me, what distracts me, what makes the pain of being near him, quiet.
He has a tight grip on my hand as he moves with me, continuously keeping an eye on the ground below as his palms become sweaty. “You seem way too calm about this,” he notes, his gaze flicking to me. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d guess you were enjoying it.”
I shrug, not able to deny it. “I think you know me enough to know I’m not afraid of heights.”
He pauses, searching my eyes, and suddenly I feel like I’m a freak on display because I swear to God he sees my dirty little secret hidden inside me. “No, it’s not the lack of fear… but the presence of excitement that seems a little off for the situation.”
I try to think of something to say, but come up blank. Thankfully we reach the fire escape and I put all my attention onto getting down it. I release his hand and duck beneath the bar and jump down onto the grated stairway. Right as Luke joins me, a large guy sticks his head out the window, looking as angry as one of my more abusive foster father’s I had for a brief two weeks when I was twelve.
“God dammit, Luke!” He rams his fist against the windowsill, debating whether to climb out and chase us or attempt to intercept us at the bottom.
“Go, go, go,” Luke urges me with a gentle push as the guy ducks his head back inside.
We race down the stairway, which shakes with our weight. Deep down, I understand just how serious of trouble we’re in, but the messed up side of me is thriving, fueled by the danger. By the time we reach the bottom, I’m nearly dizzy off the adrenaline high. It seems as if Luke can see it on my face, because he grabs my arm and helps me keep my balance as we race across the parking lot toward a subdivision near the condo complex.
“Where’s your truck?” I ask, breathless as we round the corner, glancing back at the condos.
Sweat drips down his forehead, even though it’s not hot outside, the clouds rolling in and thunder booming. “I walked here.” He pauses near the curb, glancing left and right then behind us. “I need to get you somewhere safe... away from them… and then I’ll go… lead them away…”
“I’ll go with you.” What the hell am I doing?
He looks like he has the exact same thought. “You want to go with me?”
I nod, knowing it’s so wrong because the main reason I’m agreeing to this is because I want the numbing high inside me to stay, at least that’s what I tell myself, not wanting to admit the real reason yet. “Yes.”
“I can’t… I can’t get you mixed up in this… it’s not right.”
“Too late. I already am. And I did this to myself.”
He frowns and I think he’s going to argue more, even though he should already know by now that he won’t win, but then he gives in and we jog up the street together, heading into the unknown.
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.
