The Certainty of Violet & Luke (The Coincidence, #5)(40)

She nods then lowers herself into the seat. ‘Yeah, everything’s fine.’

I don’t believe her, but now’s not the time to press. I round the car, get in and drive down the road toward the center of town where Trevor and my father are staying for the next three nights. The keep making comments about how small and quaint the town is, but Laramie is anything but quaint. Yes it’s low in population, but it doesn’t have that old-fashion, homey look to it. And the wind blows like a motherf*cker; the winter’s cold enough to freeze your balls off if you stayed outdoors for too long.

Violet barely says anything the entire drive, staring out the window like the sights are fascinating, like she hasn’t seen them a thousand times. Once we drop my father and Trevor off, I head back to the apartment until we head out for dinner in a few hours.

Finally, her silence gets to be too much and I turn down the volume of the stereo. ‘What are you thinking about?’

‘The many complications and complexities that make up my life,’ she responds without so much as a glance in my direction.

‘Was it the hug?’ I ask. ‘Did it get to you?’

She breathes heavy enough that it fogs the window in front of her face. ‘I don’t want to have a pity party.’ She turns her head toward me. ‘Or feel sorry for myself.’

‘You have every right to feel bad over stuff,’ I tell her, slowing the car down to a stop at a red light.

She shakes her head. ‘No, I need to get over it. I want to, you know.’

‘Want to what?’

‘Get over getting worked up over everything.’ She slumps back in the seat and props her boots up on the dashboard, looking straight ahead. ‘Stop getting worked up over simple things like getting a flipping hug … it’s just that it’s been a while, you know …’ Her head slants to the side as she dazes off, her hair curtain around her face. ‘Since someone’s hugged me. I mean, I know you do, but …’ she shrugs. ‘I honestly have no idea what my point is. I guess I’m just rambling.’ She waves it off, wanting to dismiss the conversation. ‘Ignore me.’


I had the exact opposite problem, forced to spend hours being hugged by my mother in a way that felt unnatural and caused me to be ill to my stomach. I’d always thought things would have been better if I’d never been hugged, but Violet is contradicting this theory. Maybe if the hugs had come from a sane person, if my dad hadn’t bailed out, then I’d think differently.

I sweep her hair out of her face, knowing she’s trying to hide whatever expression she has, but I care too much about her to let her conceal her pain anymore. ‘I’m not going to ignore you. Not when you say something like that.’

She shakes her head, glancing at me. I swear I can see every infliction, every invisible scar. ‘Please, can we just drop it?’

I start to lean over the console toward her. ‘Violet, we’re not going to—’

‘Light’s green,’ she interrupts, waving me forward while the person behind me honks their horn.

I drive in silence the rest of the way home. As soon as I park the car under the carport, Violet opens the door and hops out. I follow her eager exit, turn off the engine, hop out and meet her around the front. Before she can move past me, I catch her in my arms and yank her against me.

‘Luke, I said I was okay,’ she protests. She works to get her good hand between us, then attempts to shove me back. But she’s not strong enough to get me anywhere, no matter what she believes.

‘If it was possible, I’d hug you every hour of every minute of every second of every day.’ I pull her closer to me, disregarding the fact that she hasn’t put her arms around me yet.

We stand that way for a while, me giving her everything and her afraid to take it as the wind surrounds us and the grey sky begins to rumble. It takes her a snap or two of lightning to get there, but finally she relaxes.

‘We’d look pretty ridiculous walking around like this all the time,’ she whispers, her arms sliding around my waist. She tucks her good hand into the back pocket of my jeans and rests her head against my shoulder. ‘Although, I’d love to see the looks on people’s faces as we attempted it.’ She sighs, surrendering. ‘Sorry I freaked out on you.’

‘You don’t need to apologize.’

‘No, I need to …’ She tips her chin up and looks up at me. ‘I need to get my shit together. I’m just trying to figure out how to do it.’ The wind blows her hair into her face and she plucks strands from her mouth. ‘Maybe this whole therapy thing will help … I don’t know though. I’m still skeptical.’

I’m not sure if I entirely disagree with that idea either. ‘Why?’

‘I don’t know … I guess I don’t trust adults very well. They can be nasty, disloyal people.’

‘Baby, we’re technically adults.’

‘I know that, but sometimes I forget that we are,’ she says, saddened. ‘Maybe it’ll work out though. Maybe they’ll be able to fix all the cracks and ugliness inside my head.’

I press my lips to her forehead. ‘This thing is anything but ugly.’

‘Yeah, yeah, we’ll see if that’s the case after they crack me apart and see what’s inside.’ She makes a mock scary voice than makes a ghostly sound.