The Probability of Violet & Luke (The Coincidence, #4)

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 * 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.