She watches me with her head still on her arms, her eyes scaling me, then she sits up, running her fingers through her hair as she rises to her feet. “No, I can get it.” She bends over and scoops the box up. Even though I can tell it’s a little heavy for her, I let her carry it to the truck, putting a much-needed boundary line between us. It’s the line I put up between most of the people that breeze through my life, to keep people away, to keep me safe from ever having to go to that place I lived for so many years. The one where I feel lost. The one where I’m weak and have no control over anything.

Violet

I think he might have almost just kissed me. I could feel it in the electricity in the air and through his energetic pulse in his fingers. I’m glad he didn’t otherwise I would’ve had to hurt him and I don’t want to hurt him. Go figure. I’m too upset to keep my anger under control today and I’m too lost over last night with him. I don’t even know if he can remember it, the electric kiss that, at least for me, had feeling behind it. And if he’s forgotten, then I’m going to forget, too.

Forgetting is a good thing. I wish I could do that with everything; what happened with Preston, that I have no home, and that come Monday I’m going to have to drag my ass down to the police station and face my parents’ reopened case alone, like I’ve done with everything in my life. All I want to do is stand on the top of a building and inch my way to the edge, feel the adrenaline of knowing I could fall and everything would end.

The longer I sit in the truck with Luke, the more I want to taste the adrenaline rush instead of having this unsettling feeling about going to Preston’s house and facing whatever’s waiting there for me. By the time we’re pulling up, I’m contemplating if I should just grab my boxes and bail. Just leave before Preston can tell me to. Go live in the ditch just a little ways down the road.

“Thanks for the ride,” I mutter to Luke as he parks the truck behind Preston’s Cadillac.

Luke stares through the windshield at the trailer house and the people passed out in lawn chairs on the front porch. “Whose house is this?” he asks as I flip the door handle.

“A friend’s.” I swing my legs out of the truck, preparing to jump out.

He snags me by the elbow. “This is where you’re living for the summer?”

I don’t look at him, face forward, torn on how much to say. “I don’t know where I’m living.”

“Seriously?”

“Yep.” I bend my arm and wiggle it out of his grip, making sure to look straight forward as I kick the truck door shut.

I grab my box out of the bed of his truck and trek up the driveway, my long skirt dragging in the dirt behind me. The entire yard is littered with beer bottles and cigarette butts. There’s vomit on the lawn and gravel and the front door to the trailer is agape. As I approach the Cadillac, the screen door swings open and Preston appears in the doorway with his hand cupped around his cigarette as he lights up. Once he has it lit, he blows out a cloud of smoke and looks over at me. By the lack of surprise in his expression I bet he saw me pull up, but what I can’t tell is if he’s still mad at me.

He doesn’t say anything as he trots down the stairs. He kicks some bottles out of the way with his bare foot as he makes his way down the rocky path over to the driveway. When he reaches the front of the car, he glances down the driveway.

“Who’s that?” he asks, nodding his head at Luke’s truck.

“Someone,” I say without looking back as I pause at the trunk of the car, debating on how to go about this as I drop the box beside my feet. I don’t want to let it go. I want to allow myself to get angry at him, because he deserves it, but I also feel that stupid gnawing guilt. I owe him, for giving me a place to stay.

“Don’t be a bitch.” He grazes the pad of his thumb across the bottom of the cigarette as he approaches me. He doesn’t have a shirt on and the cargo shorts he’s wearing hang low on his hips, the top of his boxers peeking out. The bags under his eyes and the redness in them scream that he’s hungover and irritated.

“So you’re still pissed,” I say, through hooded eyes. “Good, so am I.” I sidestep to the left to get to the driver’s door so I can pop the trunk open, but he moves with me, blocking my path.

“I’m not pissed,” he says, blinking his bloodshot eyes and then rubbing his free hand across them. “I’m just confused what the hell happened—why the hell you took off like that.”

I cross my arms. “Because you were being a horny asshole.”

“I was high,” he argues, spanning his arms out to the side of him. “People do all kinds of crazy shit when they’re high.”

“You tried to get me to fuck you.”

“I was on E… of course I did.”

I gape at him, unfathomably. “So what? I’m just supposed to forgive you because you were high?”

“I’m not asking for your forgiveness.” He scratches at his arm as he glances down the driveway where I can hear Luke’s truck running. Is he still there? “And what did you do? Run off and fuck the first guy you came across.”

“Does that sound like something I’d do?” I ask, lifting my eyebrows.

He sucks a drag from his cigarette. “How the hell should I know? You never tell the truth. You barely show any sort of reaction when I ask you to pretend to be a slut to sell drugs for me.” He leans in, moving his arm out to the side of him and I cringe, thinking he’s going to hit me. “You let me put my hands on you however I want without so much as blinking an eye.” He suddenly cups my breast with his hand. “I can’t tell if you like it or if you want me to stop and when you stay stop it doesn’t even sound like you mean it.”

I shuffle back and his hand falls from my breast. “I’m telling you to stop right now and I mean it.”

“You’re saying to stop, but there’s nothing in your eyes that’s matching your words.” He marches forward and grabs my breast again, this time rougher. “I think that you secretly like it but you don’t want to admit it.”

The intensity of the moment is making me very mellow. I want to see him explode, so I can feel more adrenaline and more sedated from my emotions even after the fact that he hit me and is now fondling my breast. It’s obvious he’s crashing and unstable and it makes the situation dangerous. I love it.

“Is this because Kelley is getting remarried?” I ask. “Or are you just going through a midlife crisis?”

His face reddens as he hunches over, lowering his face so it’s right in front of mine. His breath is searing hot and a large vein bulges in his forehead. “I’m not that much fucking older than you are, Violet! So stop with the age shit!” he shouts, the muscles in his neck tensing.

A surge of energy instantaneously crashes through me, my chest lifting and descending as I catch my breath, my heartbeat booming in my ears. It feels like I could do anything at the moment and maybe I will—maybe today is the day that I’ll take that extra step and finally fly away from all of this. As I rack my mind for something absurdly reckless I could do, he shifts his fingers from my arm and yanks me with him as he stomps toward the house. I should probably pull back and run… Maybe when I get in the house I’ll finally run away… or when he hits me again. Beats me. Would he beat me? Do I care? I’m not sure. About anything.

“Violet, are you okay?” The sound of Luke’s voice slowly penetrates my thoughts and my adrenaline surge deflates like a balloon.

“I’m fine,” I say through gritted teeth as Preston glares at him from over my shoulder.

“Who the hell is he?” Preston’s nails pierce my skin as he glances from Luke to me and there’s a slight hint of uneasiness in his expression, like Luke’s presences unsettles him a little.

“My stalker,” I lie, not as amused as I want to be. The fact that I have nowhere to live, no one to count on, no one to help me is catching up with me.

“What?” Preston’s jaw drops as he blinks at me. “He’s stalking you?”

“No, he’s just a guy.” I blow out a breath and then raise my voice. “Who won’t leave me alone.”

“Who won’t leave you alone? Seriously?” Luke suddenly appears beside me, startling me by his abrupt nearness and how much anger is in his eyes. “You keep on showing up wherever I go.”

I angle my head to look up at him. “Because you look for me.” I know he really doesn’t, but I don’t want him to think I want or need him.

“I didn’t look for you any of the times I ran into you,” he protests and then his eyes cut to Preston as he folds his arms across his chest, his lean arms flexing. “And I sure wasn’t looking to drop you off at some old pervert’s house this morning.”

I feel this wave of heat in the air, but I don’t really believe that it’s a rapid increase in temperature so much as a spike in the excitement in my body. I feel it at the same moment that Preston releases me from his hold, his attention darting from me to the house, like he’s considering walk away, but ultimately it lands on Luke.

Luke stands beside me, unbothered as Preston hesitates and then inches closer to him. I’m not sure if Luke’s protecting me, or just looking for a fight, but it’s kind of obvious that Luke’s making Preston a little nervous. I wonder if Luke would continue helping me if he knew what was going on in my head, how invigorated I feel over the fact that at any moment they could start swinging and I could get caught in the middle.

“You think some punk kid is going to scare me?” Preston says with an off-pitch laugh. “Wow, that’s a new one.”

Luke licks his bottom lip, which is still swollen from last night’s fight. His knuckles are crusted over with blood and there’s dried blood on his shirt. He also has a cut on his forehead that looks like it needs some peroxide on it. He looks pretty beaten up already and for a split second I actually care enough that I consider taking his arm and pulling him away, to protect him from getting hurt, even though I’m not sure things would go down that way. But then he moves forward and lines himself up with Preston, his hands balling into fists. He’s taller than Preston and sturdier in the chest. He also seems more willing to throw a punch or two, more rough and ragged.

“Do you think some old dude scares me?” Luke’s eyes flare with the tone of his voice. “Especially one that likes to hit women?”

At first I’m confused because Preston hasn’t hit me, but then I remember how he did last night. Luke must have put two and two together.

Preston glances at my cheek without turning his head. “You told him I hit you?”

I shrug, even though I didn’t. “Maybe.”

Luke starts to open his mouth to say something, the muscles in his arms flexing. Preston flinches, like he thinks Luke’s going to hit him and cranks his arm back and sucker punches Luke right in the jaw. I cringe, tripping backward at the sound of the pop, remembering the pain I felt when he did the same thing to me. Like me, it doesn’t look like it bothers Luke, only pisses him off. Without missing a beat, Luke slams his fist into Preston’s face. Before Preston can even register what happened, Luke is driving his fist again toward Preston, this time connecting with Preston’s ribs. Preston swings right around and hits Luke in the gut. Luke’s face contorts in pain, but it doesn’t faze him, and before Preston can catch his breath Luke brings his knee up and rams it into Preston’s stomach, knocking the wind out of him. I’m torn on whether to run to Preston and break up the fight or let Luke hurt him. This whole thing has gotten out of hand and I still owe Preston for giving me a roof over my head when no one else would. I want to help Luke, too, though, because he’s helped me more than most.

I can feel an ache inside my chest just thinking about the idea of him getting hurt. But I also just stand and watch them fight to see how far they’ll go, how dangerous things will get. I’m so fucked up in the head and I don’t think I can make a decision at the moment, even though it feels like I need to. It no longer seems like it’s about me, but more about them brutally beating each other up, maybe to death. And what if they do get hurt? Or one of them dies? Then what? Am I responsible? Do I care? Do I want to care about either of them?

I remain motionless, observing their movements, hearing each crack as their bones collide, their rapid breathing, the way the sunlight hits them. I hear my own breathing, the way I’m gasping for air, the way my heart races faster with each desperate breath. The sunlight starts to flicker in and out of focus as my vision spots over. This has happened to me a couple of times and if I don’t do something quickly, I’m going to collapse.