Jessica Sorensen - The Probability of Violet and Luke

“Can you excuse me for a second?” I ask Ryler and when he nods, I dash up to the guest room, unsure of what I’m going to do. At first I’m only thinking about myself and about the many ways I could hurt myself, but then all my thoughts go to Greyson. I’m worried about him. Me. Violet Hayes. Worried about someone else besides herself. Actually, I’m worried about a lot of people at the moment.

So I dial Greyson’s number again, squeezing my eyes shut, and holding my breath, crossing my fingers he’ll answer. “Please, please Greyson, pick up.”

He doesn’t though, so I end up dialing him ten times, over and over again, becoming like a stalker myself. Finally he picks up, though, but is very, very grumpy about it. But I’m relieved to hear his voice.

“What the hell, Violet,” he hisses in the phone. “I’m at work, filling in for you. Remember?”

“Shit. Sorry, but it’s really important.” I sit down on the bed and lie down on my back. “Did you tell anyone that I was coming to Vegas with Luke?”

There’s some clanking and banging of dishes in the background. “Yeah, Seth. But that’s it.”

“Did he tell anyone?”

“Probably. He tells everyone everything.” He pauses and I can hear the manager of the diner hollering something in the background. “Wait? Was I not supposed to say anything to anyone?”

“No, it’s fine, but…” I waver, wondering if I should tell him what’s really going on. I hate telling my problems to people but it doesn’t seem like I have a choice anymore. “It’s not really a big deal or anything, I’ve just been getting these weird texts and they know I’m in Vegas with Luke, which is strange since no one really knows except you and I guess Seth.”

“Texts from that reporter again?”

“I don’t think so. I mean, it could be a reporter, but I don’t know.” I let out a loud exhale. “Could you do me a favor and call Seth and see who he told, just so I can maybe get an idea of who’s being a douche?”

“Of course,” he says, not pressing any further. “Give me ten minutes and I’ll take a break and go call him. Then call you right back.”

“Thank you,” I say, feeling the slightest bit lighter, the pins and needles not so potent and sharp. So this is what asking for help is like? I should really do it more often, but then again, getting to the point of asking feels like pulling teeth.

“You’re welcome,” he says, meaning it. “Talk to you in just a minute.”

We hang up and I try to relax the best that I can, watching the minutes tick by, but I only breathe freely again when Greyson calls back. “So it wasn’t Seth,” he says as soon as I pick up. “While I was talking to Seth on the phone, Benny overheard me talking about it and said that some guy called the diner the other day, asking where you were.”

My mouth droops to a frown. “You told Benny where I was?”

“Well, only because I was filling in for you. But Benny doesn’t know you’re with Luke, so I’m not sure how they found that out. But Seth promises he hasn’t said a word and he may be a gossiper but he’s sure as hell’s not a liar. He’s actually the opposite sometimes—too truthful.”

“Yeah, I know.” I sigh tiredly, wondering if the unknown is the one who called the diner. And why it matters to the guy enough to track me down? Who could he be? The other person there that night? Could it be fucking possible? The idea makes my hairs stand on end. “Thanks for finding that out.”

“No problem.” He hesitates then asks, “Everything going okay?”

“Yeah, I guess so.” I force myself to knock down that wall again, the one I always try to first put up when people want to talk to me. “I got super trashed last night though.”

“That doesn’t sound like you.”

“I know. It was an impulsive decision that led to me crying myself to sleep while Luke coddled me…. I feel like a crazy asshole. Seriously. I used to be so tough and badass and now I’m a hot mess.”

“Everyone can be a hot mess sometimes. Trust me.”

“Yeah, I know, but I hate making people have to take care of me.”

“I’m sure Luke didn’t mind, Violet,” Greyson assures me. “In fact, he probably kind of enjoyed it, seeing as how he’s in love with you.”

“We’ve had this conversation way too many times,” I remind him. “Luke’s not in love with me. We just have… well, I don’t know what we have but it sure as hell isn’t love.”

“You sure about that?” he questions cynically. “Because I think you just don’t want to admit that he is, because you’re afraid—afraid of letting someone feel that way about you.”

“Yeah, I’m sure Mr. Therapist,” I utter quietly. “Besides, I don’t even know what love is.”

Silence stretches between us, the awkward kind. We’ve talked a lot but I’m usually pretty closed off so I think my openness about my emotions shocked him. “Violet, I—”

I cut him off. “Hey, can I call you back? Luke just walked in.” A lie, but I’m not ready to have this conversation with Greyson yet and probably never will be.

“Yeah, sure.” He seems hurt like he knows I’m bullshitting him, which shows how much he knows me. “Call me back, though, okay? I worry about you.”

“Yeah, absolutely,” I say and then quickly hang up, my heart racing inside my chest as I fight to catch my breath. “I don’t even know what love is? Really Violet? I need to start keeping my damn mouth shut,” I mumble to myself, sitting down on the edge of the bed and letting my head fall into my hands. For a brief instant, I try to remember what it felt like to be loved by my parents, what it felt like to be hugged, cared for, feel warm on the inside instead of hollow and cold. Surprisingly, my thoughts drift to Luke and when he calmed me down last night, right in the middle of a panic attack. No one has ever gotten me to do that before, or better yet has even tried to calm me down.

As I’m lying there, trying to sort through my emotions without wanting to fling myself out the damn window, my phone vibrates from inside my pocket. At first I think it’s my stalker texter but then I realize the phone is actually ringing this time. When I see Detective Stephner’s name flash across the screen, relief washes over me as I answer it.

“It’s about damn time,” I say to him as I put the phone up to my ear. “I was beginning to think you were intentionally avoiding my calls.”

“I’ve been busy.” Something in his voice throws me off a little. It’s not that he’s being rude so much as he sounds anxious.

I sit up straighter. “Busy with what exactly?” I ask curiously.

“I can’t tell you yet, not until we know for sure,” he tells me with a hint of remorse. “But as soon as I can, I will.”

My heart hammers deafeningly and I’m seriously starting to worry it’s going to leap straight out of my chest. “Is it about my parents? Did they find evidence against Mira? Or did they find the other person who did it?” My words are rushing out of my lips a hundred miles a minute as the possibilities stream through my head. Is this it? The moment I’ve been waiting for? Is justice finally going to happen after all these years?

“Violet, calm down,” he says like it’s something so easy to do. “I can’t officially discuss anything yet, but like I said, as soon as I can, I’ll call you.”

“That’s not fair,” I gripe. “You shouldn’t have called me until you could talk to me.”

He sighs tiredly. “I called because you called me, remember? You left a message about getting some texts again.”

“Oh yeah.” The adrenaline surging through me makes my voice uneven. “At first I thought it was another reporter, but they know stuff about me that a reporter wouldn’t unless they were stalking me.”