The Probability of Violet and Luke(42)
“I don’t need protection,” she promises in a firm tone. “And if there’s some way I can help then I want to. Trust me, manipulation is my gift.”
“I don’t want to be the Preston in your life,” I utter it so quietly it can barely be heard.
She sucks in a slow breath while her hand absentmindedly wanders to the bruises on her legs, pretty much confirming my suspicions that the bastard put them on her. It makes me see red again like when Preston kissed her in the parking lot of the University, my anger blinding me to the point that if Preston was around, I’d do something irrational and probably irreversible and not even think twice. I remember when my best friend Kayden Owens beat the shit out of this guy Cameron—the same guy who raped my sister Amy right before she committed suicide by jumping off a roof—because he’d hurt his girlfriend, Callie, probably in the same way he hurt my sister. At the time, I sort of understood why he did it, protecting the people you care about. But he’d only been with Callie for a little while so there was still some confusion how he could get so passionate about defending her. But I get now, why he did it, how the rage can consume you to the point that you can’t see or think clearly, if you care about someone that much. I’d have beaten the shit out of Cameron too, if I ever found him—still would—for Amy. And I’d hurt Preston just as equally if not more for what he’s done to Violet. Because I care about Violet that much, in a way that I’d ruin my own life if it meant she’d have to carry less pain in hers.
I get a revelation at that moment, one that I didn’t see coming and I’m not sure if I’m ready to accept it. It crashes into my like a truck, slams the breath out of me, and makes my heart ache in a very unfamiliar way.
I care about Violet more than I care about myself.
Maybe even… Love her?
Fuck, am I in love? No, there’s no way. I don’t even know what love is.
“You’re not Preston,” Violet interrupts my panicking thoughts, her hand covering the bruise on her leg. “I want to help you if there’s a way. You’re not forcing me to do anything—I’m choosing to do it.”
I want to ask her what he forced her to do to cause those bruises, but even if she would break down and tell me, I don’t want it to be in the car with Ryler and my uncle pretending like they’re not listening while I flip out and probably lose control in the worst kind of way.
“She could be a good distraction, Luke,” Cole interrupts as he makes a right off the freeway and up an off ramp. “She’s a beautiful girl—and I mean that in a nice, nonflirting way.” He’s annoying the shit out of me right now and I know he can tell, but doesn’t care.
“What exactly are you thinking?” Violet scoots forward and crosses her arms on the back of the seat. Her hair is pulled up so I can see the back of her neck and the dragon, along with the stars tattoos, the ones that represent her parent’s death. I don’t know why I do it, but I find myself putting my finger to one of them and tracing the pattern. She jumps from the contact but doesn’t say anything.
“There’s this guy, Catterson, who’s a total dipshit when it comes to women, but good with cards,” Cole explains as he flips on the blinker. “If you sit near him and try to get him to run his bets high, it might help end the game end quicker and give us a better chance at getting out of there with no problems.”
“Just how dangerous is this?” she asks warily. “I mean, what problems are you talking about? Like the don’t-come-back-here-if-you-get-caught-cheating kind of problems or the you-won’t-be-walking-out-of-here-if-you-get-caught-cheating kind of problems?”
“You should probably have Luke answer that,” Cole replies, glancing over his shoulder at me.
Violet faces me, chewing on her bottom lip, which is stained with red lipstick, tempting enough to bite. “How bad is this place? Worse or better than Geraldson’s?”
I gently cup the back of her neck. “Worse,” I say and her body goes rigid.
But she quickly shakes off her uneasiness, putting her hands on my shoulders and her mouth beside my ear. “You sure you want to do this?” she whispers in my ear. “I still have some of Preston’s weed on me. It’s not nine grand worth, but it could be a start.”
“No, no drug dealing.” My hand finds her waist and my fingers enfold around her as I pull her closer, nearly shutting my eyes at the feel of her warmth. Despite the shit with my mother, I’m still bad for her anyway. Having her here, ready to help with this, is stupid—I’m stupid. “God, I wish we’d been brought together again under different circumstances… I miss you but know I can’t have you...” I don’t mean to say the last part aloud, it sort of just slips out and there’s no taking it back.
Jessica Sorensen's Books
- Archenemies (Renegades #2)
- A Ladder to the Sky
- Girls of Paper and Fire (Girls of Paper and Fire #1)
- Daughters of the Lake
- Hiddensee: A Tale of the Once and Future Nutcracker
- House of Darken (Secret Keepers #1)
- Our Kind of Cruelty
- Princess: A Private Novel
- Shattered Mirror (Eve Duncan #23)
- The Hellfire Club