Emotions stir inside me as I lean against the door and watch her as she walks around the living room, taking in the food on the counter and coffee table, the textbooks on the floor, the general disorganization of the room that was never here when she was living with us.
“It’s messier than when I lived here,” she notes, tracing her fingers along a few empty beer bottles on the kitchen countertop and then across a layer of dust on the entertainment center. She pauses, tucking a strand of her red-streaked hair behind her ear, considering something before she turns around and folds her arms across her chest. The excitement that was in her green eyes just a few minutes when we were on the ledge has vanished and I’m glad because it was sort of freaking the shit out of me, because I think it was stemming from the danger we were in.
“Are you okay?” I ask her, wanting to cross the room and kiss her again, like in the bathroom, but knowing better. What happened back at Geraldson’s was us getting caught up in the heat of the moment, being that close together and alone for the first time in months.
She shrugs. “I don’t know.” She unfolds her arms and thrums her fingers on the sides of her legs as she looks around the living room, everywhere but at me. “What are you going to do?”
I stand up from the door and dare a step or two closer to her, noting she slightly tenses, but thankfully doesn’t back away. “I honestly have no idea what I’m going to do,” I say. “I mean, I’ve been caught cheating before, but never by guys like these.” I blow out a stressed breath as reality crashes on me in a giant, very powerful wave. I’ve sobered up pretty good since we left the apartment and am seeing a little too clearly for my taste. “I guess I’ll just lay low for a while and hope this blows over.”
“You really think it will?” she asks, doubtful. “Because I’m not so optimistic.”
No I don’t. Not in the least little bit, but she doesn’t need to know that. “It’s all I can do for now, at least until I come up with another plan.” I take another step or two, reducing the space between us, noting how she flinches as I near her, like she’s afraid I’m going to touch her again. I want to so f**king badly but know it’s not right and clearly not wanted on her part, so I swing around her and head for the bedroom to pack my bags, knowing the longer I hang around here, the more likely Geraldson’s going to show up.
I expect Violet to leave, but after a minute or two she comes wandering into my room—a room that used to be hers too. “Where are you going?” She leans against the doorframe, her eyes drifting to Amy’s journal sticking out from underneath my pillow and I find myself picking it up and throwing it in the duffel bag.
I shrug, grabbing some shirts and jeans from the dresser and stuffing them into the bag. “I don’t know… I’ll probably just drive around, stay in hotels for a week or so.” I pause, trying to think of where I could hide that doesn’t include being with my mother or my father—I swore I’d never ask him for help again after the last time I did and he turned me down. There’s only one family member I actually know, my uncle Cole, my dad’s brother who lives in Vegas and who taught my dad how to gamble. I’ve met him a total of twice—once when I was five when my dad when for a little gambling trip and took me with him and once when I was eighteen when I spent a week down in Vegas while my father was on vacation there and wanted me to come visit. But needing my space, I ended up spending more time with my Uncle Cole than him. I haven’t really talked to Cole since then though, except for one or two phone calls and I’m not sure if my uncle will let me stay there or not. He’s not a bad guy, just not the kind of guy you go around asking for favors and help, since he’s more like a teenager than an adult. Plus, I don’t even have his phone number. There is one way to get it, but I’m not sure if I want to go there yet.
Think of something else.
Violet sits on my bed as I hurry around, collecting my cologne and other stuff and tossing them into the bag, trying to ignore her relentless gaze as it tracks my every movement. She’s here. In my room, like I’ve been dreaming about for the last two months. But this isn’t how I wanted it to go down—not under these circumstances.
As I’m headed out of the room to the bathroom to get my toothbrush, her phone buzzes from her pocket. By the time I return, she’s gone pale, like she’s about to throw up. I open my mouth to ask her what’s wrong, but she speaks before I get the chance.
“So you’re just going for a week, right? To wherever you’re going? And then you’re going to come back here?” she asks, fiddling with a leather bracelet on her wrist as she stares at the spot on the floor between our feet.
“I’m not sure….” I zip my bag up and hitch it over my shoulder, rubbing my hand down my face. “This is f**king bad, isn’t it? I just need to get the hell out of here. Run away somewhere.”
“You can’t run away from it forever, Luke.” There’s an underlying meaning in her tone as her gaze locks with mine and her chest heaves as she struggles to maintain her breathing.
“No, I can’t.” I pause, dropping my bag onto the floor and retrieving my phone from my pocket to do something I really don’t want to do. I text Toverson, the guy that got me into the game. I need to know how bad it is.
Me: I f**ked up.
I expect it to take awhile for him to text me back, but it takes seconds.
Toverson: I know. And I f**king warned u. God dammit, Luke. What the f**k were u thinking?
Me: I wasn’t. That was the problem.
Toverson: Where r u now? Your house?
Me: Can’t tell u yet. Not until I know how deep of shit I’m in.
Toverson: Luke I’m sorry, but I can’t get u out of this mess. And warning, Geraldson knows where you live.
A shiver rolls up my spine as I read the text and then moments later there’s a knock on my door, well more like a pounding of fists.
“Dammit,” I curse, stuffing my phone into my back pocket. I start to pace in front of the bed, trying to figure out what the hell to do, but seeing no other alternative. I’m trapped. Violet’s trapped with me. This is so bad.
Another loud knock. Then a bang.
“Who is that?” Violet asks, getting to her feet. “Wait. Is it them?”
I stop pacing and look at her. After all this time pining for her to be in my room again, I’m now wishing she wasn’t. I messed up big time and now there’s going be some heavy consequences. “Stay here,” I order, then go into the living room to look out the peephole. Sure enough Geraldson and some big dude with a shaved head that looks at least double my size are standing out there. Both are packing, guns tucked in their belt, brass knuckles on the big guy’s hand. My head slumps against the door, a sequences of curses flowing from my lips as I ram by fist into the wall until the sheetrock cracks.