The Probability of Violet & Luke (The Coincidence #4)(31)

“I don’t think it’s him,” I say, unsure what else to say. I mean, how the hell am I supposed to talk about the killer and my parent’s deaths when his mother was part of it? And when she could be the one sending the texts. “Honestly, I don’t think it’s a reporter at all, with the things that they’re saying.”

“What kind of things?” His hand finds my thigh, his fingers grazing up and down it, not in a sexual way but a comforting way.

I close my eyes and give him the phone. “Scroll through the texts from the unknown number.” I remain sitting with my eyes shut, listening to his breathing quicken.

“Fuck,” he says under his breath and I open my eyes, hovering back at the fury in his brown eyes, his jaw tight, his hands balled into fists, clutching the crap out of my phone. “You have no idea who sent this to you? At all?”

I shake my head. “I’ve been getting little things off and on from reporters ever since the case was reopened, but this takes things to a whole new level.”

“How long has it been going on?” He struggles to keep his voice even and his anger under control. I’m sort of worried that he’s going to chuck my phone, with how hard he’s gripping it.

“They started up yesterday, right before I went to Geraldson’s,” I tell him. “I need to call Detective Stephner and report it.” I pause, reluctant to ask, but needing to do it. “Luke,” I swallow hard, “You don’t think it could be your… your mother, could it?” Finally, the large elephant that’s been hanging out between us has been acknowledged. But it makes the tension between us even worse, if that’s possible, especially when Luke remains quiet for what feels like forever. His knuckles turn white from holding my phone so tightly and I swear he’s going to grind all his teeth away with how tight his jaw is set.

“I want to say no, but honestly, I have no idea,” he finally says through gritted teeth as he gives me back my phone. “She’s f*cking crazy and I wouldn’t put it past her to do something like this.” He drags his free hand down his face then leans forward and reaches for his cigarettes in his bag. He pops one out of the pack, puts it into his mouth and lights up, his hand shaking as he flicks the lighter. After a good, long, drag, he seems to settle down, but the next words he utters are far from settling.

“I’ll f*cking kill her if she touches you,” he says, flexing his fingers as if he’s fighting the desire to punch something, like he was doing to the wall back at the apartment.

I don’t know what to say. I know it’s wrong, the whole eye for an eye thing, but part of me wishes his mother was dead. But not by the hand of Luke. There’s no way I’d ever want him to carry that kind of burden or suffer the consequences for doing it.

“Hey.” I put a hand on his arm, his lean muscles flexing under my touch. “Relax. I’m not even sure if it’s her, okay? So let me call Detective Stephner and see what he can do about it.”

His gaze fastens on mine. “I’m sorry this had to happen to you.” Sincerity pours out of his eyes like hot liquid trying to drown me.

Great, now I want to cry. Jesus, what the hell is with these last few days? I must be getting ready to start my period or something.

Unable to speak, I get to my feet and call Detective Stephner. It sends me to his voicemail so I leave a message telling him to call me as soon as he can, that I’ve been getting threatening voice messages. When I hang up, Luke’s smoking his cigarette and watching me with a look of inquisitiveness.

“What can I do?” he says as I put my phone into my pocket. “Should I take you back home? Please, tell me what can help this.”

“Going home isn’t going to help.” I reach for my beer and take a long swig before speaking again. “If some creep is stalking me, it’s better that I’m not there anyway.”

“Well, then what do you want to do?” He gets up from the bed and moves toward me, stopping in front of me and holding with the cigarette out to the side of him. “You name it and we’ll do it.”

“We’re going to go get you your money,” I say persistently with my hands on my hips. “That’s what I want to do.”

He wavers with uneasiness, scattering ashes all over the carpet, but his uncle doesn’t seem like one to care since there was some all over the kitchen floor. “I’d rather you not come with me. It’s too sketchy where we’re going.”


I roll my eyes. “You know what’s really sketchy? Going to a crackhouse for your foster mother when you’re fourteen because she’s as high as a kite and can barely walk but is sober enough that she threatens to throw you out on the streets if you don’t. Personally, I think she just didn’t want to risk getting caught,” I say. His lips start to part, but before he can speak, I interrupt him. “And I didn’t say that for you to feel sorry for me. You just need to understand that I’m not some clueless girl that’s oblivious to the dark side of life. I don’t need your protection. I’ve seen it all,” I trace my finger up my arm. “And I have skin of steel, baby.”

With his gaze locked on mine, he brings his cigarette to his lips, sucks in, then moves it away, smoke snaking from his lips. “I understand that, but it doesn’t mean I want to protect you any less.” He leans in and brushes his lips against my cheek, smelling of cigarettes, cologne, and beer, all things that are Luke and for a moment all I can think is home. I want home to be with him again. The contact causes my skin to scorch and longing to swell inside me. It’s so brief, just a flutter of skin to skin, but it’s enough for me to remember how mind-numbingly good it felt to be with him. “I’m going to go talk to my uncle and see what time we’re leaving. If you really want to go, then be ready when I get back.”