The Certainty of Violet & Luke (The Coincidence, #5)

‘I need this,’ I whisper and then with a deep breath I wade into the violent water. It soaks through my clothes and hits my skin instantly, a thousand tiny needles, warning me to go back. But I keep going forward, until I’m submerged to the waist … the chest … the neck … I can barely keep my legs under me now, the power of the water fighting to tug me under, suck me up, take me away. Part of me wants to let it, wants to lift my feet up and get carried away into the unknown. I have no idea if I’ll survive and that’s kind of the point. The terrifying, intoxicating point. But the little will left inside me, the one that whispers that it’s not just me anymore, begs me to put up a fight.

‘I don’t know if I want to anymore.’ I call over the water. ‘I’m so tired of fighting just so I can tread with my head above the water.’ The sound of my voice gets lost in the roar of the water as I stand there waiting for … well, I’m not sure. An answer to what I should do? Where do I go from here?

There’s no answer though, and the only choice I have is to wade back to shore. Maybe it’s not the only choice though. After all, I could just give up right now, but I’m not. I’m choosing to go back to my life, to my home, to the people in it. What does that mean?

Unsure, I start to turn around toward the shore again, but mid-turn, my feet get ripped out from under me. A breath later, as my head slams against a rock, I’m engulfed in water. I try to grab onto something, desperately seek to get my footing, but I don’t stand a chance. The water’s too strong and my head is fuzzy from the bump. I can barely see anything … water … rocks … water … myself swirling in the center of it.

Oh my God, I’m going to die.

I’ve never had that thought before. Never truly thought I was going to die through all the things I’ve done. I’ve pushed myself to the edge, but I always knew the point where I’d cross the No Going Back Line and never crossed it.

But now I’ve crossed it.

And I’m going to fucking die right now.

I want to cry because I’m not ready for this, not ready to go. I try to open my mouth to yell for help, remembering that there were people just up the shore, but every time I open my mouth, I swallow huge gulps of water that I choke on. So instead I fight for my life. I fight like a Goddamn person who wants to live more than anything else in the word. I’m surprised how much I fight. How much I want to make it back to the shore. How much I want my life. How much I see the things I want … see the people I want. I swear in the midst of it I hear my father’s voice, telling me to be strong. I swear I see him too, swimming toward me, to help me get back to the shore. It’s just an illusion, though, the person’s face shifting into someone else as they get closer.

But it’s someone.

Someone who maybe can save me. Because God, I want to be saved.

There are people yelling in the distance and I can see the person getting closer. I reach for them and they reach for me, our fingers so close as water swishes over my head and rocks slam at my body. But suddenly a wave rips over me and just like that, they get ripped away, like the water rips me away.





Chapter 7


Luke


I manage to keep myself together as I drive toward the apartment, hoping she’ll be there, crossing my fingers that out of all the bad things that could be going on, it’s actually something that’s okay.

Please, just let her be okay.

I’m halfway there when I get a text. Taking my phone out of my pocket, I see it’s from Greyson.

Greyson: Hey, I have something of yours.

Me: Huh???

Greyson: A girl with black and red hair, a pierced nose, tattoos, a smartass personality. Goes by the name of Violet.

Relief washes over me. She’s with Greyson. Thank God.

Me: Glad she’s with you. I’ve been trying to get a hold of her.

Greyson: Yeah, she’s been busy. With what I have no clue, but she showed up here in wet clothes, with a swollen eye, a cut on her wrist, and drunk beyond comprehension … It’s really bad, Luke. I’m not going to lie. Something must have set her off today. Not sure what though since I can’t get her to talk about it.

A ripple of guilt sweeps through my body, so powerful I have to pull over the truck and collect myself before driving down the road to avoid getting into an accident.

Me: Where are u guys exactly?

Greyson: At the diner. Thankfully the bars pretty empty so I can keep an eye on her, but it’s going to pick up around three or so. Can u pick her up? I’d take her home myself but we’re understaffed as it is.

Me: On my way now.

I drive like a bat out of hell down the streets of Laramie, breaking too many traffic laws to count. But I’m flipping worried, not just about Violet being drunk, but because she showed up at the diner with wet clothes and bruises. I know enough about Violet to understand that she could have done this to herself. I thought she’d been taking it easy on the adrenaline seeking, but now I’m not so sure.

It takes me half the usual time to get to the diner and by the time I get there, I’m all jacked up on my own adrenaline, my mind racing with a ton of ideas of what Violet was doing while I was at class. I never should have left her home alone. I should have stayed with her.

I hop out of the truck and hurry to the back door of the diner. It’s cloudy, the sky grey, the wind chilly, and I swear to God I can hear thunder rumbling in the distance like a goddamn omen. When I open the door and walk inside the diner, the first thing I notice is how quiet it is. It’s unsettling and the feeling only amplifies when the first noise I hear is the muffled sound of cries. I turn the corner and step out into the shelf area that’s tucked between the kitchen and the bar and find Violet huddled in the corner with legs pulled to her chest. Her hair is a tangled mess and there’s dirt on her clothes. Her bloodshot eyes are focused on empty space and tears are streaming down her cheeks. So much sadness pouring out of her yet she looks so empty inside.

‘Jesus Christ.’ I don’t even mean to say it aloud. It sort of slips out, but it’s a little bit of a shock to see her like this. I’ve only seen her cry a couple of times and she hated that even I saw it. Out here in the open where anyone can see her … whatever happened must have been bad.

I approach her like she’s a skittish cat can’t but she doesn’t even notice me until I’m pretty much standing in front of her. Then she tips her chin back and looks up at me, eyes big and water, so lost, swarming with confused.

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.