The Destiny of Violet & Luke (The Coincidence, #3)(63)

“Mommy.” I kneel down beside her, stroking her head over and over again. My hands shake as I feel a warm, liquid substance coat my skin. “Mommy, wake up.” She doesn’t move, her body lifeless on the floor beside the bed. This isn’t right. The room shouldn’t be this quiet. Why do I feel so alone?



“Violet,” I jump at the sound of a voice… my dad’s. I leap to my feet and rush around to the other side of the bed. He’s sitting up, with his hand clutching his chest, blood streaming down his arm as he breathes too loud and I can hear the pain in it.



“Daddy.” I sprint to him, clutching my bear in my hand. “You’re okay… you’re okay…” Before I can reach him, his breathing stops.



And I’m alone all over again.





Chapter 10



Luke



I’m screwing my whole system up, the one I worked hard to create. I spent years and years under my mom’s control, cleaning up after her, listening to her rant, staying inside when she told me she was too nervous to be alone. I missed school when she asked me, listening to her play the guitar and sings songs when all I wanted to do was hang out with my friends. There were a few times when she’d let Kayden come over and I’d get to go over to his house, but they were few and far between and she’d always make me spend extra time with her. Thankfully, Kayden never saw one of her more intense episodes, but he could tell something was off, just like I knew that sometimes his dad hit and yelled at him. It was our silent agreement. I’ll keep your secrets if you keep mine.

And we did, continuing to live under our parents’ hold. But once I could leave the house on my own, I was done. With it all. I partied and f*cked girls and hardly ever came home, sleeping in my truck most nights. I loved the taste of freedom and found it often in the endless amount of drinking and meaningless sex. It was my system. Drink and screw. Go to school. Play football. Get good grades. Excel in the important parts and cover the cracked and f*cked-up parts of life. The broken parts no one’s seen, the ones I buried in alcohol and doing what I do best—taking control of a girl and f*cking her until I know she’d do anything for me, then walking away.

Every instinct I’ve engrained into my head is telling me to do that to Violet—f*ck her and run. But the thing is, if I did try to, she’d probably not give in to me and since I’ve never experienced rejection from a girl I’m not sure how that’d go over. I worry I’d be left with the ugliness of my need for control swarming inside me. I’d be weak, like I was when I was a kid. And I hated myself when I was a kid—I hated life.

As I lie awake in my bed staring up at the ceiling, contemplating the mess I’ve gotten into, the sun rises outside my window. Violet’s sleeping beside me on the bed, her feet are next to my head. We were laying side by side when we fell asleep, but she must have moved in her sleep. Her skirt’s ridden up and I can almost see all of her long legs and her hair is down and spread out around her, the diamond stud in her nose glinting in the sunlight. I can hear the faint sound of her breathing and I find myself comforted by it and her body heat. I don’t understand it. My interest in her should be gone. She told me she wasn’t suicidal and I believe her, which should mean I can let her go. Yet the more I talked to her, the more it seemed like her life was as screwed up as mine and that’s making me even more interested, not just to f*ck her but to get to know her. I want to find out who she is, why she does the crazy things she does. Why she looks so detached most of the time and what causes the few rare smiles and the sadness I see in her eyes.

I continue to stare at the ceiling until daylight fully breaks. I start to roll out of bed to get dressed and go get some coffee, when all of a sudden Violet starts flipping out. She sucks in a deep breath, her body arching as she opens her eyes to the ceiling. She blinks and gasps repeatedly as she comes out of her daze. I’m halfway sitting up when she spots me looking at her. The detachment that’s normally in her eyes is replaced with so much panic and fear I almost throw my arms around her to hold on to her. But then she quickly rolls on her stomach, shaking her head as she presses her face into my mattress. Her shoulders heave as she balls her hands into fists and screams into the mattress. I don’t know what to do, if I should make her move before she smothers herself or let her get whatever the hell she’s releasing out of her.

After a lot of deep breathing, she carefully turns back over and sits up. Her cheek is still a little puffy, her pupils are dilated and glossy and she looks like she’s high, no emotion evident in her expression. How can that be possible, when just a second ago she looked scared out of her mind?

“Are you okay?” I dare ask and then place a hand on her knee, needing to touch her for reasons I’m still trying to figure out.

She frowns down at my hand. “I’m fine.” She scoots to the side and my hand falls from her leg to the mattress.

I’m not sure whether to press or not. I know I wouldn’t want to be pressed if I’d woken up like that. “Are you sure?”

She nods and gets to her feet, stretching her hands above her head. Her back arches as she yawns, her black and red hair a tangled mess running down her back. All I can think about is how much I want to grab a handful of her hair and guide her to my lips, not to conquer but to comfort. “So when are we going to head down to the apart—” She’s cut off as someone knocks on my door.