Jessica Sorensen - The Probability of Violet and Luke

“Well, you’re both wearing tank tops and there’s no place to hide them in there. None of your pant or short pockets look bulky and I made a mental note that neither of you had one in the back of your pants.” She relaxes back in the seat, folding her arms, restraining a smile.

“Smart girl,” Cole remarks as he slows the car at a stoplight. The busy sidewalks are buzzing with excitement, neon lights flashing on every building, and I can practically smell the slot machines on the inside of them. “Luke, I like this one. You should keep her around.”

So do I , I want to tell him but instead say, “Yeah, she’s not so bad, I guess.” I nudge her in the side with my elbow so she knows I’m messing around.

“What can I say, I like to prepare myself,” Violet says, not moving away when I rest my shoulder against hers. “You never know who the crazies are.”

My body stiffens, wondering if she meant it how I took it. But she seems calm and content, so I’m guessing she’s just chatting and didn’t really think much of it. Still, it reminds me that one of those ‘crazies’ she’s referring to is my mother and what one of those ‘crazies’ did was murder her parents, which led to her spending most of her childhood in foster homes, which led her to Preston’s and her messed up life. All because of my mother and some unknown guy.

Ryler rotates in his seat to look at us and signs something to Violet, something amusing I’m guessing with the way Violet laughs and he smiles.

Violet shrugs. “Knives aren’t scary. You can run from knives.”

Ryler’s brow arches as he rests his arm on the back of the seat, still signing.

“It sounds like I’m speaking from experience, huh?” Violet muses as Ryler nods. Then Violet shrugs again, not willing to divulge any of her past, something I’m used to. But I know enough about her and she had a shitty childhood, so I wouldn’t be surprised if she ran from someone with a knife. Fuck, what if it was my mother. I never did get the details of what exactly happened that night.

“You’re a pretty tough chick,” Cole remarks then looks at me. “You know, we could use her tonight.”

“No,” I say sharply. “She’s not here to get involved in this.”

“Well she’s here,” Cole says, getting a little annoyed. “So technically she’s already involved.”

“She’s just here to watch,” I argue, balling my hands into fist. “Nothing else.”

Violet’s eyes are on me, not necessarily glaring, but she doesn’t look happy either. “What’s up with you and the whole protective thing?” she says it quietly, but Ryler still hears her and sensing a fight, turns back around in his seat and proceeds to smoke.

“I just don’t want you getting hurt,” I tell her with a shrug. “It’s not like this is some new fucking revelation. I was the same way while we were…” I want to say dating, but where we really ever officially dating? Yeah, we went out on one or two dates, but our relationship was so brief—too brief.

“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.