He remains still for a while, breathing heavily against my chest, like he’s afraid to move. I kind of don’t want him to either, because everything feels perfect right now, which is rare for me, if nonexistent. But eventually he shifts back down, slipping out of me, but bringing me with him and pulling me against him as we lie in the bed, face to face. As the lamp cast the light over his cheek, I realize there’s a massive lump there, on top of a preexisting bruise and a little bit of dried blood. I’d been so caught up in the intimate moment, I hadn’t realized it was there until now.
“What happened?” I ask, gently placing my hand over the injury. “Did you get in a fight?”
He shrugs, eyes on mine as he leans into my touch as if my hand is soothing him. “A little one, but nothing too major.”
“Did you get caught cheating?”
His breath falters from his lips. “Cole did, but it’s not that big of a deal. I don’t owe any money or anything.”
His voice is off pitch and all that peace we had moments ago shatters into a million pieces I so want to put it back together again. “They took the money, didn’t they?” I ask with a frown.
He doesn’t answer my question, only uttering, “I’ll figure something out.” He blows out a tired breath and then rubs his eyes, appearing worn out.
“”I want to help,” I tell him, tracing the lines of one of his tattoos on his rib cage. There are actually several tattoos on him and he told me once that he went through a phase where he’d get a tattoo every time he felt shitty, which meant he felt shitty a lot. “Let me help.”
“I’m not going to let you deal drugs to help me,” he says in a clipped tone, shaking his head. “I’d rather get the shit beat out of me than have you do that and owe him.” His expression softens a little as he puts a hand on my back and gently sketches his finger up and down my spine. “Let me sleep on it. I might have an idea, but I need to figure out how desperate I am.”
I don’t know what his idea is, but it worries me, because the last time I saw that look of pure helplessness on his face was the night he told me that his mother could possibly be my parent’s killer.
Chapter 14
Luke
I watch her sleep for most of the night. Thinking. My head so cluttered I can barely breathe. By the time I’m actually finished the sun is coming up and I’ve had absolutely no sleep whatsoever. It’s been that way for the last couple of months and between that and the drinking, I’m starting to feel the effects of it on my body. Constantly tired, I wonder how I’m ever going to survive football season if I don’t get my act together.
My act together. It seems like I have so much to do before that can ever be possible, but as I lie here looking at Violet asleep in my arms, I want to do it more than anything.
As the sun rises higher and lights up the room, I decide to take the first step, even though I don’t want to at all. I begrudgingly get out of bed and grab my phone to make a call I never thought I could make in a million years. But the alternative, staying here until I can figure something else out, isn’t something I want to do anymore.
It’s still early in California, but my dad answers after three rings. “Luke, is everything okay?”
I swear to God it’s like he knows I need something. “Not really.” I pause, waiting for him to say something but he doesn’t as I stare out the window. “Look, I need a favor…. I need to borrow some money.” If he turns me down again, I don’t think I can ever ask him for anything.
“Okay.” He already sounds wary. “How much do you need?”
I glance over my shoulder as Violet stirs in the bed, then make my way over to the bathroom attached to the room and go inside so I don’t wake her up. “Nine grand.”
He lets out a slow, low whistle. “Shit, Luke. That’s a lot of money.”
“I know it is.” I shut the door, recline against it, and slide to the floor. “I wouldn’t be asking if it wasn’t an emergency.”
“Are you in some kind of trouble?”
“You could say that.” I hesitate, not sure I want to tell him, not wanting to give him the right of knowing me yet, but then suddenly there’s all this pressure inside my chest and it explodes without warning. Everything comes pouring out of me. And not just the gambling part. I tell him how much I drink. What happened between Violet and I. Everything my mom did. Even what I found in Amy’s journal. And by the end I’m crying, like a scared little boy. It makes me feel so pathetic. So weak. So out of control, like when I lived with my mother, and part of me hates myself, but the other part feels relieved, like I can breathe again.
“Luke, we’re going to fix this,” my dad says after I finally stop sobbing long enough for him to speak again.
“You can’t fix it,” I say, sucking back the tears. “Not most of it anyway.”
“Well, I’m going to fix what I can,” he tells me so calmly. I don’t even know how he’s doing it. I just piled on twenty years of baggage onto him and he’s cool as can be. “And the rest we’ll figure out together.” He pauses as if he’s collecting himself. “The first thing I’m going to do is wire you the money. You can head back to Laramie and it should be there by the time you get there. Then you’ll pay back this Geraldson guy.”
I wipe the tears from my eyes with the back of my hand. “And then what?”
“And then I want you to come visit me,” he says and before I can protest, he adds, “Just for a week, so we can talk and maybe get to know each other a little bit better... I’d like to get to know my son.”
“You think talking is going to help?” I question skeptically. “Because I’m not so sure.”
“I think it’s a step… and if you’ll let me, I’d like to take that step with you and hopefully more steps.” He sighs. “I know I haven’t been there for you and I can’t make up for the past.” Now he sounds like he’s choking up. “But I’d like to try my damn hardest. You just need to let me try.”
“I have football practice starting in a couple of weeks,” I say. “And classes. It’s hard for me to go somewhere right now.”
“Can you take some time off?” he asks, hopeful. “Just a week or so.”
“I hate taking time off. And I’ve already missed more than I’m comfortable with.” I’m being a pain in the ass, still uneasy about the whole thing. Well, more like frightened. When I was younger, it was all I thought about all those times during the needles, hugs, petting, madness. That he would come back and save me, but he never did and I nearly rotted to death in that house. And now, it’s hard to let that all go.
“Then I’ll come to you,” he insists determinedly. “If you say it’s okay, I’ll fly out there and see you.”
I run my hand over my head, letting out a stressed breath. “How long would you stay?”
“As long as you want me to,” he replies. “I’d take a few hours at this point.”
“That’s a far flight for a couple of hours.”
“No, it’s not.” The way he says it makes me want to cry again, but I suck the tears back before they spill out.
“Fine, you can come out if you want.” I push myself to my feet. “And you can stay for a few days.”
It takes him a second to respond and when he finally does, I can tell he’s crying but trying not to let me hear it. “Good. I’m so glad. I’m so, so glad.”
It feels so strange and unbelievable, letting stuff go that I’ve been carrying around forever. I just hope that it all works out, but I’m not holding my breath just yet.
Chapter 15
Violet
When I wake up, Luke’s not in the bed and I have this strange moment where I flip out, not just because Luke isn’t there beside me but also over the way I wake up. My usual gasping ritual is absent, instead my eyes simply opening and all I can think is: What the hell?
It’s more frightening than anything. I’ve been waking up that way and now suddenly I’m not. It feels like a part of me has gone missing and I don’t know what to do with it.
And then my text goes off and makes things worse.
Unknown: Why did you call the police? U f**king cunt. You’re so dead.
I’m trying not to flip out as I read the message over, when Luke walks out of the bathroom. I take one look at him, though, and the problem gets lost. He’s still in his boxers, his hair ruffled, his jaw scruffy, and his eyes red and puffy—either he’s stoned or he’s been crying. I’m guessing it’s the latter.
“What’s the matter?” I sit up quickly, the blanket falling from my chest. I’m still na**d from last night and his gaze drifts to my chest, but only for an instant then he rubs his eyes and sighs.
“I called my dad.” He stares down at the floor, a crease at his brow, confused. “I couldn’t think of anything else to do, so I called him and asked him for the money.”
“What’d he say?” I know very little about Luke and his dad’s relationship, other than they don’t have one and Luke has had no interest in having one with him because of his absence during his childhood, so if he asked him for help then it’s a huge deal.
He scratches at the back of his neck, exhaling before looking at me. “He said he would, but I have to come let him visit me.”
I set the phone aside on the nightstand and swing my legs over the edge of the bed. “He blackmailed you?”
“No, not really. He just said he’d give me the money and that he wanted to come see me and I kind of just agreed.” He sits down on the bed beside me. “This is so weird.”
Not knowing what else to do, I scoot closer and rub his back. “I’m sorry,” I say. “But I’m glad he’s helping you, instead of you trying to gamble again.” My words are a shocking. Usually, I crave danger, but I’m discovering that if danger means Luke getting hurt it’s not thrilling at all.
“Yeah, I guess I am too.” He lowers his head into his hands. “But we’ll see how it goes. I’m not going to go into this hopeful or anything.” He sits for a while with his head down, breathing softly—I think he might be trying not to cry.
I stay quiet and keep rubbing his back until finally he raises his head back up, trying to discretely wipe the tears away from his eyes. He clears his throat a few times and then gets to his feet, grabbing a pair of jeans from his bag. “I think we should get going,” he tells me. “The last thing I want to do is stay here with Cole. The guy is in way worse than me.” He pulls his jeans on and does up the button. “Which says a lot.”
I nod, then climb out of bed and go over to my bag, his eyes following me the entire way. “I’m actually anxious to get back too,” I say, grabbing a shirt and pair of black pants. “I talked to Detective Stephner last night and even though he wouldn’t tell me anything, I could tell there was something going on with the case.” I slip on the jeans. “I’m hoping it’s good.”
“When will you know?” he asks, pulling a red shirt over his head.
I shrug then put my own shirt on and flip my hair out of the collar. “I’m not sure. He said he might call me this morning but all I got was another text from stalker guy.”
He frowns. “Did you tell the detective about those?”
I nod. “He’s looking into it.”
He presses his lips together as if he wants to say something, but then thinks against it and starts wandering around the room, picking up his stuff and packing his bag. I start packing too, not bothering to fold my clothes. It’s actually a habit I picked up from when I was young. After packing for the fifth time to change homes, I gave up and just stuffed everything in it. And didn’t bother unpacking when I got to my new home.
“You think it’s about my mom?” Luke asks so suddenly it throws me off guard and takes me a moment to respond. “What the detective can’t tell you yet? Do you think it has something to do with my mom?”
I zip up my bag and pick it up. “I wonder… maybe.”
“I hope it is,” he says, anger lacing his tone. I know that he means it—that he wants her locked up just as much as I do. He swings the bag over his shoulder, his muscles jerking a little as if they’re sore. Then he walks up to me and gives me a soft kiss on the cheek.
“You ready?” he asks, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear and looking me steadily in the eye. It seems like he’s asking me much more than if I’m ready to leave his uncle’s house. Like if I’m ready to go back to Laramie. To live with him.
I nod, not sure which question I’m answering, but I guess I’ll find out when we get there.
***
Luke’s uncle seems really upset when we walk downstairs to leave, arguing with Luke over wanting to call his father and borrow some money. Luke says nothing about the fact that he already, I guess deciding to let Cole clean up his own mess. Irate, Cole stumbles over to the coffee table in the living room and chugs about a half a bottle of Vodka. “To ease the pain of the beating,” he says when he notices us watching him. Then he flops down on the sofa and moments later he passes out.
Ryler seems like he wants to go with us, just to get out of the house, lingering in the foyer as Luke drops his bag onto the floor to give him one of those awkward one-armed hugs guys do.
“You can come hangout with us whenever,” Luke tells him, pulling back and picking up his bag, his eyes drifting to the living room where Cole’s on his back, his arm dangling over the side of the sofa. “Even if it’s just for a break.”