The Probability of Violet & Luke (The Coincidence #4)(55)

He scratches at the back of his neck, exhaling before looking at me. “He said he would, but I have to come let him visit me.”

I set the phone aside on the nightstand and swing my legs over the edge of the bed. “He blackmailed you?”

“No, not really. He just said he’d give me the money and that he wanted to come see me and I kind of just agreed.” He sits down on the bed beside me. “This is so weird.”

Not knowing what else to do, I scoot closer and rub his back. “I’m sorry,” I say. “But I’m glad he’s helping you, instead of you trying to gamble again.” My words are a shocking. Usually, I crave danger, but I’m discovering that if danger means Luke getting hurt it’s not thrilling at all.

“Yeah, I guess I am too.” He lowers his head into his hands. “But we’ll see how it goes. I’m not going to go into this hopeful or anything.” He sits for a while with his head down, breathing softly—I think he might be trying not to cry.

I stay quiet and keep rubbing his back until finally he raises his head back up, trying to discretely wipe the tears away from his eyes. He clears his throat a few times and then gets to his feet, grabbing a pair of jeans from his bag. “I think we should get going,” he tells me. “The last thing I want to do is stay here with Cole. The guy is in way worse than me.” He pulls his jeans on and does up the button. “Which says a lot.”

I nod, then climb out of bed and go over to my bag, his eyes following me the entire way. “I’m actually anxious to get back too,” I say, grabbing a shirt and pair of black pants. “I talked to Detective Stephner last night and even though he wouldn’t tell me anything, I could tell there was something going on with the case.” I slip on the jeans. “I’m hoping it’s good.”

“When will you know?” he asks, pulling a red shirt over his head.

I shrug then put my own shirt on and flip my hair out of the collar. “I’m not sure. He said he might call me this morning but all I got was another text from stalker guy.”

He frowns. “Did you tell the detective about those?”

I nod. “He’s looking into it.”

He presses his lips together as if he wants to say something, but then thinks against it and starts wandering around the room, picking up his stuff and packing his bag. I start packing too, not bothering to fold my clothes. It’s actually a habit I picked up from when I was young. After packing for the fifth time to change homes, I gave up and just stuffed everything in it. And didn’t bother unpacking when I got to my new home.

“You think it’s about my mom?” Luke asks so suddenly it throws me off guard and takes me a moment to respond. “What the detective can’t tell you yet? Do you think it has something to do with my mom?”

I zip up my bag and pick it up. “I wonder… maybe.”

“I hope it is,” he says, anger lacing his tone. I know that he means it—that he wants her locked up just as much as I do. He swings the bag over his shoulder, his muscles jerking a little as if they’re sore. Then he walks up to me and gives me a soft kiss on the cheek.

“You ready?” he asks, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear and looking me steadily in the eye. It seems like he’s asking me much more than if I’m ready to leave his uncle’s house. Like if I’m ready to go back to Laramie. To live with him.

I nod, not sure which question I’m answering, but I guess I’ll find out when we get there.

***

Luke’s uncle seems really upset when we walk downstairs to leave, arguing with Luke over wanting to call his father and borrow some money. Luke says nothing about the fact that he already, I guess deciding to let Cole clean up his own mess. Irate, Cole stumbles over to the coffee table in the living room and chugs about a half a bottle of Vodka. “To ease the pain of the beating,” he says when he notices us watching him. Then he flops down on the sofa and moments later he passes out.

Ryler seems like he wants to go with us, just to get out of the house, lingering in the foyer as Luke drops his bag onto the floor to give him one of those awkward one-armed hugs guys do.

“You can come hangout with us whenever,” Luke tells him, pulling back and picking up his bag, his eyes drifting to the living room where Cole’s on his back, his arm dangling over the side of the sofa. “Even if it’s just for a break.”


Ryler smiles but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes as he lifts his hands, What the hell would I do in Wyoming?

Luke looks to me for translation and when I pass a long the message, he says, “The University’s pretty cool there.”

He raises his pierced eyebrow, amused. Me go to school? That’s a funny idea. I barely made it through high school.

“Hey, I was the same way. In fact, I almost dropped out,” I tell him, feeling strange that I’m talking about my past so lightly. “And I actually like college.”

Really? He mouths and I nod. He pauses, looking back at his dad who was never there for him growing up, beaten up and passed out drunk on the sofa and then mouths to me, Maybe one day.

I nod then he gives Luke and I his phone number and we finish saying good-bye. Then Luke and I hit the road. It’s early, the sky glowing orange from the sunrise, which means we should get there before sunset. We’re a few days earlier then we planned, which means we’ll be missing less classes and I think Luke and I can both appreciate that fact. We spend half the drive listening to his music and he playfully tells me he’s going to make us a f*ck tape of our own when we get home. He keeps saying we and I know I should be grateful, that I have a place to live with people who care about me, but it’s scaring me at the same time. God, if I could just have one more moment with my parents so they could tell me that this is all okay. That I’m doing the right thing.