“I’m worried about her,” I tell my dad as I go back into the kitchen after I’ve taken Violet to the guest bedroom and laid her in the bed. I don’t want to leave her alone too long, worried that she’ll do something reckless, like she tried to do back at my uncle’s with the window incident.
I’m standing in the kitchen with my dad, tired, in desperate need of some sleep and food. I called Seth on the drive here and asked him if my dad could wire some money to his account and then if he could withdraw it and leave it in Geraldson’s mailbox per an agreement I made with Geraldson a few minutes earlier.
“Yeah, sure. Whatever will help,” he’d replied and then being him he had of course pressed for more details, which I promised him I’d tell him later if he did the favor.
It was sort of strange that I asked Seth for help. A year or so ago I would have asked Kayden to do it, but I guess things change. Seth knows some of the shit that goes on in my life too—not all but some.
“How long has she been like that?” my dad asks, sitting down on one of the barstools with a mug of coffee in front of him. It’s so strange seeing him in person again, since it’s been about a year since the last time I saw him and the first time I’ve seen him since I gave him some insight about what are mother did to me and to Amy after he left. Even a year ago, he seemed like a stranger, but he even looks different now than I remember. A little more aged, thinning brown hair, more wrinkles, thicker in the waist, but healthier—a stranger that I know and feel uncomfortable around. Thankfully it’s late enough that Trevor is in bed. I haven’t had any time to prepare myself to meet my dad, let alone his husband.
“Since she talked to the detective on the phone,” I say, sitting down beside on a barstool beside him, my eyelids so heavy I can barely keep them open. I drove straight here, barely making stops to put gas in the truck and I’m ready to crash, sleep off the last day.
“Did it… Was it…” He struggles, nervously glancing around at the kitchen area, which is decorated with art, probably Trevor’s. “Was it about Mira?”
“I don’t know,” I tell him with a shrug. “She won’t talk about it, whatever it is. But the detective I talked to briefly said it might be best if I took her somewhere away from Laramie for a while.” I lower my head onto the countertop, the coldness of the surface feeling good against my warm skin. “Jesus, I have no idea what to do. She’s scaring me…”
My father puts his hand on my back and I jump, but don’t shove it off. “Go get some rest and then I’ll help you talk to her in the morning. I’ll help you, Luke… I’m here for you…”
There are a million things I want to say at that moment, some rude and some nice, but all I say is, “Thanks.” Because I’m tired.
Then I get off the stool and go up to the guest room, ready to collapse in the bed. But instead I find Violet standing by the window, staring out at the street with her arms folded across her chest. I let out a nervous breath and cross the room to her, hesitating before I wrap my arms around her.
She doesn’t fight me, doing the opposite and leaning against me, as if I’m the only thing that’s holding her up. “They found evidence that might help the arrest with your mom,” she says quietly. “But they have to find her first.”
“Wait a minute? Find her?” I slant to the side to look her in the eyes. “She’s not at the house?”
She shakes her head, refusing to make eye contact with me. “And the landlord and neighbors said she hasn’t been there for a while.”
My arms tighten around her, worried that she’s suddenly going to push away and run, like she did a couple of months ago. “We’ll find her,” I promised. “No matter what it takes.” I kiss the back of her head and she nuzzles into me. “I’ll make sure of it.”
“There’s more.” Her voice sounds so hollow, the moonlight reflecting the pain in her eyes, so overwhelming, almost as if the pain possesses her. It’s a look that’ll haunt me forever. “It’s about Preston and my parents… well, my mother anyway.”
“Okay.” I have no idea where this is going, but I prepare myself for something extremely bad, because of how she reacted in the car and the look on her face right now.
“Apparently that’s not even Preston’s real name… and he had all these pictures of me and my family in this little room under the house that I’d always thought he kept drugs in…. and he might have been somehow connected to my mother’s drug dealer back when she was doing drugs because he lived in the same area… something I didn’t know until now...” A tear slips from her eye and she doesn’t bother wiping it away. “Which not only means that my mother wasn’t who I’ve been thinking she was my entire life, but that Preston might have something to do with their deaths… the detective said it’s more likely that it’s coincidental and that he’s more of a stalker than a murderer…. But f**k… what if he is… what if he had something to do with it… “ Another tear and then another. “All that time I spent with him… those things I did… God, I think I’m going to be sick.” That’s when she starts to cry, tears pouring out of her eyes as her legs give out on her.
Tears burn at my own eyes. Jesus, life is so unfair. So cruel. To put one person through this much. Holding her weight for her, I scoop her up in my arms and carry her to the bed. I can’t even think of anything to say because there are no words that exist for moments like these. Honestly, I can’t even believe it’s possible. How can one girl’s world be so shattered. So broken. So painful. I want to take all of it for her—I would in a heart beat if I could. But instead I have to lie here with her in my arms and listen to her break apart, just like I did a couple of months ago when we found out about my mother. And eventually, my own eyes start to water.
“How can they be sure?” I ask, fighting to keep balance in my voice. “The police, I mean. They’re going to find out if he had anything to do with it or not, right?”
“Yeah.” She buries her face in my chest. “What if he is… what if I let him touch me the way that he did and that whole time he took they’re lives...” Her hands find the bottom of my shirt and she grips tightly. “I can’t deal with anymore of this…” She sucks in a breath, then another. “Pain. I’m so sick of having no one… of having every relationship ruined.”