The Coincidence 03 The Destiny of Violet and Luke ARC (21 page)

“You tried to get me to fuck you.”

“I was on E… of course I did.”

I gape at him, unfathomably. “So what? I’m just supposed to forgive you because you were high?”

“I’m not asking for your forgiveness.” He scratches at his arm as he glances down the driveway where I can hear Luke’s truck running.
Is he still there?
“And what did you do? Run off and fuck the first guy you came across.”

“Does that sound like something I’d do?” I ask, lifting my eyebrows.

He sucks a drag from his cigarette. “How the hell should I know? You never tell the truth. You barely show any sort of reaction when I ask you to pretend to be a slut to sell drugs for me.” He leans in, moving his arm out to the side of him and I cringe, thinking he’s going to hit me. “You let me put my hands on you however I want without so much as blinking an eye.” He suddenly cups my breast with his hand. “I can’t tell if you like it or if you want me to stop and when you stay stop it doesn’t even sound like you mean it.”

I shuffle back and his hand falls from my breast. “I’m telling you to stop right now and I mean it.”

“You’re saying to stop, but there’s nothing in your eyes that’s matching your words.” He marches forward and grabs my breast again, this time rougher. “I think that you secretly like it but you don’t want to admit it.”

The intensity of the moment is making me very mellow. I want to see him explode, so I can feel more adrenaline and more sedated from my emotions even after the fact that he hit me and is now fondling my breast. It’s obvious he’s crashing and unstable and it makes the situation dangerous. I love it.

“Is this because Kelley is getting remarried?” I ask. “Or are you just going through a midlife crisis?”

His face reddens as he hunches over, lowering his face so it’s right in front of mine. His breath is searing hot and a large vein bulges in his forehead. “I’m not that much fucking older than you are, Violet! So stop with the age shit!” he shouts, the muscles in his neck tensing.

A surge of energy instantaneously crashes through me, my chest lifting and descending as I catch my breath, my heartbeat booming in my ears. It feels like I could do anything at the moment and maybe I will—maybe today is the day that I’ll take that extra step and finally fly away from all of this. As I rack my mind for something absurdly reckless I could do, he shifts his fingers from my arm and yanks me with him as he stomps toward the house. I should probably pull back and run… Maybe when I get in the house I’ll finally run away… or when he hits me again. Beats me. Would he beat me? Do I care? I’m not sure. About anything.

“Violet, are you okay?” The sound of Luke’s voice slowly penetrates my thoughts and my adrenaline surge deflates like a balloon.

“I’m fine,” I say through gritted teeth as Preston glares at him from over my shoulder.

“Who the hell is he?” Preston’s nails pierce my skin as he glances from Luke to me and there’s a slight hint of uneasiness in his expression, like Luke’s presences unsettles him a little.

“My stalker,” I lie, not as amused as I want to be. The fact that I have nowhere to live, no one to count on, no one to help me is catching up with me.

“What?” Preston’s jaw drops as he blinks at me. “He’s stalking you?”

“No, he’s just a guy.” I blow out a breath and then raise my voice. “Who won’t leave me alone.”

“Who won’t leave you alone? Seriously?” Luke suddenly appears beside me, startling me by his abrupt nearness and how much anger is in his eyes. “
You
keep on showing up wherever I go.”

I angle my head to look up at him. “Because you look for me.” I know he really doesn’t, but I don’t want him to think I want or need him.

“I didn’t look for you any of the times I ran into you,” he protests and then his eyes cut to Preston as he folds his arms across his chest, his lean arms flexing. “And I sure wasn’t looking to drop you off at some old pervert’s house this morning.”

I feel this wave of heat in the air, but I don’t really believe that it’s a rapid increase in temperature so much as a spike in the excitement in my body. I feel it at the same moment that Preston releases me from his hold, his attention darting from me to the house, like he’s considering walk away, but ultimately it lands on Luke.

Luke stands beside me, unbothered as Preston hesitates and then inches closer to him. I’m not sure if Luke’s protecting me, or just looking for a fight, but it’s kind of obvious that Luke’s making Preston a little nervous. I wonder if Luke would continue helping me if he knew what was going on in my head, how invigorated I feel over the fact that at any moment they could start swinging and I could get caught in the middle.

“You think some punk kid is going to scare me?” Preston says with an off-pitch laugh. “Wow, that’s a new one.”

Luke licks his bottom lip, which is still swollen from last night’s fight. His knuckles are crusted over with blood and there’s dried blood on his shirt. He also has a cut on his forehead that looks like it needs some peroxide on it. He looks pretty beaten up already and for a split second I actually care enough that I consider taking his arm and pulling him away, to protect him from getting hurt, even though I’m not sure things would go down that way. But then he moves forward and lines himself up with Preston, his hands balling into fists. He’s taller than Preston and sturdier in the chest. He also seems more willing to throw a punch or two, more rough and ragged.

“Do you think some old dude scares me?” Luke’s eyes flare with the tone of his voice. “Especially one that likes to hit women?”

At first I’m confused because Preston hasn’t hit me, but then I remember how he did last night. Luke must have put two and two together.

Preston glances at my cheek without turning his head. “You told him I hit you?”

I shrug, even though I didn’t. “Maybe.”

Luke starts to open his mouth to say something, the muscles in his arms flexing. Preston flinches, like he thinks Luke’s going to hit him and cranks his arm back and sucker punches Luke right in the jaw. I cringe, tripping backward at the sound of the pop, remembering the pain I felt when he did the same thing to me. Like me, it doesn’t look like it bothers Luke, only pisses him off. Without missing a beat, Luke slams his fist into Preston’s face. Before Preston can even register what happened, Luke is driving his fist again toward Preston, this time connecting with Preston’s ribs. Preston swings right around and hits Luke in the gut. Luke’s face contorts in pain, but it doesn’t faze him, and before Preston can catch his breath Luke brings his knee up and rams it into Preston’s stomach, knocking the wind out of him. I’m torn on whether to run to Preston and break up the fight or let Luke hurt him. This whole thing has gotten out of hand and I still owe Preston for giving me a roof over my head when no one else would. I want to help Luke, too, though, because he’s helped me more than most.

I can feel an ache inside my chest just thinking about the idea of him getting hurt. But I also just stand and watch them fight to see how far they’ll go, how dangerous things will get. I’m so fucked up in the head and I don’t think I can make a decision at the moment, even though it feels like I need to. It no longer seems like it’s about me, but more about them brutally beating each other up, maybe to death. And what if they do get hurt? Or one of them dies? Then what? Am I responsible? Do I care? Do I want to care about either of them?

I remain motionless, observing their movements, hearing each crack as their bones collide, their rapid breathing, the way the sunlight hits them. I hear my own breathing, the way I’m gasping for air, the way my heart races faster with each desperate breath. The sunlight starts to flicker in and out of focus as my vision spots over. This has happened to me a couple of times and if I don’t do something quickly, I’m going to collapse.

I try to step forward and unlock my knees, but I can’t get my feet to budge. My legs, arms, and tongue are numb and rubbery and it feels like an elastic band is wrapped around my forehead. I try to open my mouth to say “stop,” but the world tips to the side and I fall with it. I manage to get my hands down before I slam into the ground, but the gravel scrapes my knees, and my palms open. Warm blood oozes out. It’s been a while since I’ve had an adrenaline overload, at least a few years.

The first time was a little harder to deal with. It was right after I found my parents. I’m not sure why I did what I did when I found them. I was old enough that I should have known better and called the police right away. But I remember hiding for what seemed like forever, even after the people snuck out the window. I remember how full the moon was and how even though I didn’t fully understand what was going on, there was this excruciating ache in my chest caused by the deafening silence of the house. I think it was sunrise when I finally dared to go upstairs. It was about the time my dad usually woke up for breakfast, but the kitchen was empty, so I went up to their room, telling myself that I was just going to wake them up.

The first thing I noticed was that the door was wide open, not cracked like they usually left it, and then I noticed the blood droplets on the carpet. Seconds later I saw them. It felt like I’d been kicked in the gut, the wind knocked out of me, fingers wrapped around my neck. I couldn’t breathe. I wanted to die. I’m not sure whether it was the lack of air or my rubbery knees that kept me on the ground for so long, trapping me there, looking at my parents soaked in their own blood. Or maybe it was the fact that once I moved, my life would start moving again while theirs would stay frozen. Forever.

I jerk away from my thoughts as the sounds of Luke and Preston fighting stop. Did one of them end up killing the other one? Or did they just kill each other?

“Violet, are you okay?” Luke’s voice, so close, startles me.

I keep my head hung low, taking quiet breaths. “I’m fine.”

His shadow moves over my line of vision in the gravel and then his arms are slipping underneath mine. He lifts me to my feet and helps me get my balance, holding me in his arms. I’d shove him away, but I’m too drained at the moment to do anything but lean against his chest. His arms encircle my waist and for the briefest of moments I don’t feel completely alone. The look Preston’s giving me, however, counteracts the sensation. His harsh expression cuts into me like the rocks cut into my hands.

“Get your fucking stuff and get the hell out of here,” he says, spitting blood onto the ground. His lip is cut open, his eye swollen shut, and there’s a giant welt on his rib cage.

“Gladly,” I reply in a composed tone, but on the inside I want to grab on to him and beg him not to leave me. Tell him I need him.

He wipes his arm across his lip, rubbing away the blood. “And don’t come crawling back to me when you’re homeless and living out on the street, because I won’t take you back.”

“I won’t come back,” I assure him with a harsh glare as tears try to shove their way out my damn eyes. Fucking traitor eyes. I inhale and exhale over and over again, sucking them back until I feel woozy.

“Violet, let’s go,” Luke says softly. The steady beat of his heart hitting my back is both soothing and terrifying.

Shaking his head, Preston stomps back toward the trailer house, kicking the door before opening it up and disappearing inside. Luke’s arms relax around me as I stand there in his grasp with my arms lifelessly to my side. I can barely breathe, let alone talk, knowing that soon life is going to catch up with me and so is the painful reality that I have nowhere to go. I have no car, and only two hundred bucks to my name, which will maybe get me a hotel room for a few days. Then what?

“Are you okay?” Luke’s voice is soft and conveys caution as his arms loosen around me.

“You keep asking me that,” I say as I stare at the shut door of the trailer. My eyes are burning with tears that almost escaped and my throat feels dry.

“That’s because you haven’t answered me.” His breath caresses the back of my head.

“I’m fine,” I say. “So you can stop asking.”

He pauses and then slides his arms away from my waist and winds around to the front of me. His lip is bleeding and his shirt’s torn, but other than that I don’t see any new damage on him. “Do you need anything? Water?” he asks, his lips tug upward as he studies me intently. “A sedative, maybe?” He pats the pockets of his jeans. “I could give you a hit of my cigarette… that might help calm down the anxiety a little.”

“I don’t have anxiety,” I tell him. “I’m completely calm.”

He frowns with disbelief and starts to back up toward Preston’s car. “I know what a panic attack is, Violet, and I know that the only reason you’re calm right now is because you’re exhausted from one.”

I don’t want him to be able to see so much of me, yet as he backs away, still looking at me, it seems like he’s seeing what’s hidden underneath my steel skin. He bends down and picks up my box of stuff, then carries it toward his truck. When he drops it into the bed, I force my feet to move forward, knowing I can stand in the same spot all I want but ultimately I’m going to have to face the bleary future I created for myself. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I head to the driver’s side of the Cadillac and pop the trunk, then weave around to the rear end of the car.

Luke’s boots crunch against the gravel as he hikes back up the driveway, lighting up a cigarette. I start piling the boxes out of the trunk, stacking them beside me. Luke silently starts picking them up and carrying them to his truck. By the time I’m finished unloading the trunk, he’s taken care of most of the boxes. I pick up the last one, head down the driveway, and set it in the back of his truck. Then we climb in and I crack the window as he puffs on his cigarette and smoke fills the cab.