The Coincidence 04 The Probability of Violet and Luke by Jessica Sorensen Page B

letting people get to know me enough to read me, but apparently Greyson can. “Now, if you want to tell me the real reason why, then I’d be more than happy to fill in for you. But if not, then I guess I’ll see you tonight at the diner.”

    “Fine.” I grimace. “I can’t make it to work because I’m on a little bit of a road trip.”

    “With who?”

    “Someone…”

    “Violet.”

    “Oh my fucking hell.” I drop the food and sodas on the countertop, ignoring the dirty look the fifty-year-old cashier lady gives me for my language. “I’m on the road with Luke okay… heading to Vegas.”

    “ What ?” He’s shocked and I don’t blame him. During one of our little after-work-drinking-sessions we’ve been having, I’d accidentally let it slip out what happened between Luke and me, well some of it anyway. I’m usually good at keeping secrets to myself, but apparently having friends meant turning into a babbling girl who can’t keep her mouth shut or her problems to herself. “How the hell did that end up happening?”

    “A freak accident, caused by destiny once again,” I say as I lay a ten-dollar bill down on the counter. “Look, I really don’t want to give anymore details because they’re really not mine to give. But you can call up Luke and see if he feels like telling you what’s going on.” The cashier lady gives me my change and the bag with my stuff as I put the money into my pocket.

    “Fine.” Greyson sighs. “I’ll fill in for you, but you’ll eventually give me the details of how this happened and what happens while you’re on the road.”

    “Alright, it’s a deal.” I push out the door and head for the truck, noting that Luke’s not there. He must be inside in the bathroom or something.

    “And Violet?”

    “Yeah?”

    “If you need anything, you can call me whenever, okay?” Greyson says. “In fact, promise me you’ll check in.”

    I have my hand on the door handle of the truck about to climb in when he says it, but I pause. I’ve never had anyone say that to me. Never had anyone worry about me enough to say it, well besides Luke. Not since my parents died. It makes me feel uneasy, out of my element, exposed, and I’m on the verge of tearing up like some kind of sap. God, what is happening to me? I used to be so tough .

    I clear my throat several times before I speak again. “Okay, I will.”

    “Good. And be careful... And try to stay out of trouble.”

    “You sound like a parent.” I roll my eyes as I toss the bag of food into the truck and hop inside.

    “That’s because I worry about you,” he says as I shut the door. “And care.”

    I’m not sure how to respond and start choking up again, so I avoid saying anything. “I’ll call you later, okay.” I hurry and say then hang up, my hands slightly shaking as I put my phone into my pocket. Then I roll the window down, letting in some fresh air, and rest my head back, trying to figure out when Greyson and I became friends. I still haven’t told him a lot about me, like the stuff that’s been going on with Preston, my drug dealing, my adrenaline addiction, but apparently we’ve crossed some sort of line where he worries about me and where I agree to try and ease that worry by checking in. “That’s a new one,” I mutter.

    Moments later my phone vibrates from my pocket. I think it’s probably Greyson again, wanting to know what times and days I work since I forgot to tell him. But when I take the phone out and see the message is from an unknown number, a chill goes up my spine and all the feel-goods I had in me, vanish.

    Unknown: So I’m guessing by your silence that u don’t want to know who did it.

    I want to respond that I already know, but I also don’t trust the person on the other line. It has to be another bored reporter, trying to get a story.

    Unknown: Tell me Violet, how disgusting does it make u feel, knowing you’ve slept with her son.

    My heart stops—dies inside my