The Probability of Violet & Luke (The Coincidence #4)(49)
Author: Jessica Sorensen

She shakes her head and closes her eyes as my fingers brush through her hair. “No, not yet.”

My hand pauses in her hair. “The detective… he said maybe it’d be better if you stayed away from Laramie for a bit.”

“Okay, you can leave me on the side of the road.” She’s not joking either. In fact, she sounds hopeful that I’ll do it.

I’m not sure how long I stay parked on the side of the freeway, trying to figure out what to do—where to take her. Back to Vegas? I don’t want to do that, don’t want to go back to that kind of environment. There’s only one other choice, one I have to swallow up what little pride‘s left, before I take out the phone and dial my dad’s number. He answers after two rings and I sputter it out before I back out.

“Hey, I need another favor.”

Epilogue

1 day later…

Luke

My dad lives in the section of town San Diego where the streets are lined with tall, slender townhomes and the streets are sloped and lined with trees. The air smells like the ocean and by the time we arrive there, it’s veering toward the next night, the sun setting, the sky painted orange and pink.

Violet barely spoke the entire drive and only moved when she got out to go to the bathroom. I took the opportunity to call Kayden and get coaches number so I could talk to him about missing the first week of practice.

“You know he’s weird about that shit,” Kayden had said, reminding me just how much I might be screwing up my perfect schedule that I’d worked so hard to maintain.

“I know,” I’d replied. “But it is what it is… I can’t make it there.”

“Can I ask why?”

“Remember when you beat the shit out of Caleb and you told me something along the lines of you were doing it because someone hurt Callie so badly? And you did it without a second thought, even if it meant your own life was going to get screwed up?”

“Yeah…” He was confused and a little uncomfortable, mainly because we don’t talk about this kind of stuff.

“Well, I’m not beating anyone up or anything, but someone needs me right now and I really don’t give a shit about football or school at the moment,” I’d said. “Only her.”

He’d paused. “Is it Violet?”

“Yeah.”

Another pause and then he’d said, “Tell coach it’s a family emergency. I did that once and even though he was pissed, he let me off the hook.”

“Thanks man,” I’d said then quickly had to hang up because Violet had returned from the bathroom and I didn’t want her to hear what I was doing and try to convince me otherwise.

“I bought some skittles,” she’d told me as she return to the truck and that was the last thing she said for the last five hours, eventually falling asleep and not even waking up when we arrived at my dad’s house—I had to carry her inside.

“I’m worried about her,” I tell my dad as I go back into the kitchen after I’ve taken Violet to the guest bedroom and laid her in the bed. I don’t want to leave her alone too long, worried that she’ll do something reckless, like she tried to do back at my uncle’s with the window incident.

I’m standing in the kitchen with my dad, tired, in desperate need of some sleep and food. I called Seth on the drive here and asked him if my dad could wire some money to his account and then if he could withdraw it and leave it in Geraldson’s mailbox per an agreement I made with Geraldson a few minutes earlier.

“Yeah, sure. Whatever will help,” he’d replied and then being him he had of course pressed for more details, which I promised him I’d tell him later if he did the favor.

It was sort of strange that I asked Seth for help. A year or so ago I would have asked Kayden to do it, but I guess things change. Seth knows some of the shit that goes on in my life too—not all but some.

“How long has she been like that?” my dad asks, sitting down on one of the barstools with a mug of coffee in front of him. It’s so strange seeing him in person again, since it’s been about a year since the last time I saw him and the first time I’ve seen him since I gave him some insight about what are mother did to me and to Amy after he left. Even a year ago, he seemed like a stranger, but he even looks different now than I remember. A little more aged, thinning brown hair, more wrinkles, thicker in the waist, but healthier—a stranger that I know and feel uncomfortable around. Thankfully it’s late enough that Trevor is in bed. I haven’t had any time to prepare myself to meet my dad, let alone his husband.

“Since she talked to the detective on the phone,” I say, sitting down beside on a barstool beside him, my eyelids so heavy I can barely keep them open. I drove straight here, barely making stops to put gas in the truck and I’m ready to crash, sleep off the last day.

“Did it… Was it…” He struggles, nervously glancing around at the kitchen area, which is decorated with art, probably Trevor’s. “Was it about Mira?”

“I don’t know,” I tell him with a shrug. “She won’t talk about it, whatever it is. But the detective I talked to briefly said it might be best if I took her somewhere away from Laramie for a while.” I lower my head onto the countertop, the coldness of the surface feeling good against my warm skin. “Jesus, I have no idea what to do. She’s scaring me…”

My father puts his hand on my back and I jump, but don’t shove it off. “Go get some rest and then I’ll help you talk to her in the morning. I’ll help you, Luke… I’m here for you…”

There are a million things I want to say at that moment, some rude and some nice, but all I say is, “Thanks.” Because I’m tired.

Then I get off the stool and go up to the guest room, ready to collapse in the bed. But instead I find Violet standing by the window, staring out at the street with her arms folded across her chest. I let out a nervous breath and cross the room to her, hesitating before I wrap my arms around her.

She doesn’t fight me, doing the opposite and leaning against me, as if I’m the only thing that’s holding her up. “They found evidence that might help the arrest with your mom,” she says quietly. “But they have to find her first.”

“Wait a minute? Find her?” I slant to the side to look her in the eyes. “She’s not at the house?”

She shakes her head, refusing to make eye contact with me. “And the landlord and neighbors said she hasn’t been there for a while.”