The Certainty of Violet & Luke (The Coincidence 5)

I have to work to keep myself composed. ‘What’s wrong?’ I ask, crouching down in front of her. When she doesn’t respond right away, I reach for her, but she shakes her head and hovers back, turning her face to the side. I see the swollen area Greyson was talking about. Already deepening to a bluish purple, which means whatever happened, she was probably hit hard.

‘Please don’t touch me,’ she whispers. ‘Not right now.’

I’m feeling about as lost as she looks when I spot the scratch on her wrist Greyson told me about, only it’s not a scratch but a wound, jagged and open across her flesh and still bleeding a little. A switch flips inside me and I nearly lose control over myself as I grab her arm.

‘What the fuck happened right here?’ I demand, not meaning to sound so angry, but I can’t help it. I hate that she does this to herself, hurts herself. She’s deserves so much better than that, yet she can’t see it.

She winces from my grip and I realize how roughly I’m grasping onto her, so I loosen my fingers a little. ‘Sorry, but …’ I swallow hard and shake my head. ‘It looks like you did this to yourself … like you cut yourself.’

‘I did,’ she responds hollowly. ‘I’m sorry … but I tried to turn it off another way, but this time … this time it was too much and I couldn’t deal with it … couldn’t make the pain stop no matter how hard I tried, so I went further … did things I never thought I’d do.’

I grind my teeth as I attempt to keep myself composed, but the idea of hurting herself makes me sick and angry. Not angry at her but at everyone else that helped destroy Violet over the years. All her foster parents that abandoned her. Preston. My mother.

‘What happened?’ I sit down on the floor in front of her, still holding her arm. I can hear someone in the kitchen, banging pots and pans around, but Violet seems to not notice. ‘And where’s Greyson?’

‘He’s working in the bar,’ she tells me, staring at the space of floor in front of her feet. ‘He doesn’t know I fell apart like this … I waited until he got too busy to check on me.’ She sucks in a breath, attempting to stop the tears, but they keep pouring out.

‘How did you …’ I gently brush my finger across her wrist where remnants of the wound are. ‘How did this happen exactly?’

She inhales then exhales before finally her gaze resides on me. Her expression is empty – so detached it’s chilling. ‘I cut myself.’ She slides her arm out of my hold, tugs the sleeve of her jacket over it, then hugs her wrist against her chest. ‘I tried everything … standing on the top of a building, leaning over the edge, dangling my feet over it. When that didn’t work, I tried to cut myself.’ She shrugs indifferently. ‘But it didn’t help.’

I’m trying to ignore the fact that she’s acting way too nonchalant over the fact that she hurt herself, but it’s really fucking difficult. I just want to yell at her, tell her to stop, tell her she’s too important and too good to be doing that shit to herself. ‘How did you get the bruise on your face?’ I gently brush the spot with my fingers.

Her face twists with perplexity as she reaches for her cheek, almost as if she’s forgotten it was there. ‘Oh that … I bumped it on a rock when I dove into the river.’ I notice she has a hospital band on her wrist. ‘It kind of hurt.’

I slip my fingers through the hospital band, my eyes widening. ‘What the hell is this?’ I ask, but she just shakes her head, refusing to tell me. Shaking my own head, I move my hand to her face and cup her cheek, trying not to be so angry, but I can’t help it, not when she doesn’t seem to care about herself. Doesn’t she know how important she is … to me? How could she, though, when I’ve never actually told her … told her … that I …

That I love her.

‘Your skin is freezing …’ My hands travel down her body, to her neck, arms, her fingers, which are equally as chilled. ‘You’re freezing baby … What happened to you?’

‘It’s cold outside and I walked here in damp clothes from the hospital.’ She contemplates something. ‘But I think the alcohol numbed me for the most part because I can’t even feel it.’ She pauses, head angling to the side as her brows furrow. ‘It’s weird, but I don’t even remember walking here very well.’

I hate that she’s clearly blacked out, either from the adrenaline overload or the alcohol and that in the middle of it she somehow ended up at the hospital. God, so many thoughts race through my mind about what the hell happened while I was at school. But what drives me even crazier is that she was wandering around alone when she’s got a stalker after her. And while she’s drunk. Not only is it dangerous but all the drinking she’s been doing is bad for her health. Something I discovered firsthand almost a month ago after I’d made the decision to quit drinking. I’d gone to the doctor to get put on a pill that would help me go through detox. He did a check up and said that with my diabetes, I was pretty much lucky as fuck to still be walking around with all the binge drinking I’ve been doing. I think a year ago, I wouldn’t have gave a shit, but now, with Violet around, with someone that I care for needing me, it makes me want to get better.

I just wish I could get her better too.

‘Let’s get you home.’ I wind my arms around her to pick her up. She doesn’t put up a fight and pretty much sinks into my arms with a heavy sigh, as if she’s been waiting for me to do exactly this.

‘This feels nice,’ she murmurs as I carry her toward the door, her eyelids fluttering as she fights to keep them open. ‘Luke … please don’t ever leave me.’ Her voice cracks in a way that rips my heart open. ‘I don’t have anyone anymore.’

‘Yes, you do. You have me and I promise I’m not going anywhere. Ever.’ I say without as much as an afterthought. I kick the door shut then start across the parking lot toward my beat up truck parked out back.

‘You say that now … but you might change your mind after …’ She yawns and buries her head into my chest.

‘After?’ I ask as I try to get the passenger door open without putting her down.

‘After what’s about to happen … so much stuff … ahead … for us …’

I pause, tension filling my body. What the hell happened today? ‘What’s about to happen?’