His arms wrap around my midsection and he presses himself against me, lining his body with mine. “Let’s unload the trunk later.” He rubs against me and I go stiff as board.

“I need to unload it now,” I tell him, leaning into the trunk to grab a box.

His arms leave my waist and his hands cover the top of mine. He presses them roughly to the edge of the open trunk and pins me down with my back slightly bent over. Anxiety surges in my body, but I’m still managing to get pissed off through the storm of needles. It’s one thing to cop a quick feel, but this is too much.

“I need help with a problem,” he whispers in my ear as he thrusts his hips forward, pressing his hard-on against my ass.

“Go jerk off in the bathroom then.” My voice comes out uneven and I cringe.

One of his hands slides up my arm and he cups my breast. “I took some E, Violet, and it’s so fucking amazing… everything feels so amazing… you feel fucking amazing.” He starts palming my breast like it’s some kind of stress ball.

“Well, that seems like a dumb-ass move, especially if you mixed it with weed, too.” I’m a little uneasy but don’t show it. I’ve seen what mixing drugs can do to people and it’s unpredictable, which makes Preston at the moment unpredictable. And when he gets that way, I’ve seen him get violent.

“I did though… couldn’t help it… and God it feels so good.” He moans, grabbing my breast so hard it hurts.

I use my free arm to jam him in the ribs and nudge him away from me. His hand leaves my breast as he wobbles backward and I seize the opportunity to turn around. “Look, I’m sorry you popped a pill that makes you want to screw everything that moves. But that’s not my problem. It’s yours. I’m not going to help you.”

He crosses his arms, the sun is shining behind him and casting a shadow over his face as his jaw clenches. “What if I’d said that to you four years ago when social services asked us to take you in? What if Kelley and I had turned her away because you were bad… what if we wouldn’t have helped you?… You’re acting really ungrateful.”

“I’m not ungrateful. I’m really grateful that you and Kelley gave me a home when no one else wanted to, but…” I shift my shoulders uncomfortably as I release an uneven breath from my lips. “But I can’t have sex with you.”

“Why? We could be fucking amazing together.” He reaches for me, but I protest, stepping back. He sighs and brushes his hair out of his eyes. “What’s your problem? And don’t try to feed me that no-one-ever-loved-me-so-I-can’t-stand-being-touched-by-someone-I-know bullshit. I know you want to be with me, you just won’t admit it.”

“That’s not what it’s about and you know it,” I say through gritted teeth, my pulse hammering. I was barely in the mood to be around people after the call from the detective and now I have to deal with the horny asshole version of Preston, the one that wants to touch me, feel me, make me feel things I’m not comfortable with.

“How do I know it? I don’t know anything about you,” he replies, adjusting his man part with his hand, wincing. “Everything that’s come out of that mouth of yours is a damn lie.”

I walk backward, making my way to the driver’s seat. “Go fuck yourself. You’re acting like a jerk.”

He storms for me like he’s going to tackle me. “I’m acting like someone who just took some E and wants to get laid.” His hand drifts for me again and he grabs my hip. “Come on, Violet, let me fuck the shit out of you. You won’t have to feel a thing. I promise.” He looks like he’s about to orgasm, sheer ecstasy on his face.

“I have no idea what that means,” I say, squirming from his grip, my skin burning as he digs his fingers into my skin. But I manage to get my arm loose, reach for the door, and yank it open. “But I’m leaving.”

He shakes his head and then moves for me with his arms open, like he’s going to hug me. I jump out of the way and bang my hip on the door. My eyes pool with tears from the pain as his hands miss me and he loses his balance and falls into the driver’s seat. He reaches for the keys, chuckling under his breath, and I realize that he was never going for me in the first place. He removes them from the ignition and slides out of the seat, twirling the key chain around his finger as he gets to his feet.

“Have fun walking wherever it is you were heading.” He backs down the driveway, with his hand stuffed in the pocket of his low-riding jeans, grinning like an asshole. “Face it, Violet, you have nowhere else to go, so you might as well come with me, baby.”

I curl my fingers inward, and then flex them, telling myself not to open my mouth, but he’s worked his way under my skin way too much and my control over my mouth snaps like a thin rubber band. “Have fun beating yourself off because face it, no one wants to be with you.”

It’s the wrong thing to say, but either I’m too pissed off to care or I’m seeking the danger of the moment to stop feeling the hurt that I’m feeling—I’m conflicted over my reason. As Preston rushes toward me, I calculate how much strength it’s going to take to bring him down and if I have the guts to do it to him. Even though he’s jacked up on sex pills and pot, a bad combination, and isn’t thinking clearly, doesn’t mean he’s going to see this my way when he’s sober.

His hands move for my shoulders and I prepare to lift my foot to kick him in the balls, when his arm suddenly veers to the right and seconds later his fist collides with my jaw.

It lets out a loud pop and my ears start to ring. “Ow… fuck,” I groan, clutching my jaw as my head falls forward and my shoulders slump.

“God damn it, Violet, why couldn’t just give me what I want for once!” he shouts, his voice cracking. “I gave you everything when no one else would and yet all you are is a pain in my ass!”

The blinding pain spreads through my cheek and I can already feel it swelling. Even though tears sting at my eyes, I feel alarmingly content, my heart beating at a consistent rate.

I raise my head up with dispassion on my face and slowly lower my hand from my cheek. He’s breathing ravenously as he takes me in, his chest puffing out and then sinking in, his eyes wide, his pupils dilated, his face red and damp with sweat. I don’t say anything because there’d be no point. I just turn around and walk down the driveway. He doesn’t say anything, but I glance over my shoulder when I reach the street at the end of the driveway, and he’s still standing by the car watching me.

I turn to the left and walk down the highway, not bothering to move over when cars zoom by at sixty-five miles an hour. The breeze that gusts over me as vehicles pass by calms the panic in my chest that’s been there since I got the call from the detective. Just the idea that they could swerve to the side and take me out, throw me out of this world, is enough to distract my body from what it’s feeling and my mind from what it’s thinking. When I arrive at the edge of town, which is just a bunch of farmhouses, I retrieve my cell phone from my pocket. It’s getting dark, and I’m getting tired of walking but my list of contacts consists of Preston and a few guys I frequently deal to.

I’m about to stuff my phone into my pocket, when it starts singing the ringtone that belongs to any unknown number. I hate that I’m slightly disappointed that it’s not Preston’s ringtone and when I answer it I sound grumpier that I want to.

“Hello.”

There’s a long pause.

“Seriously, again.” I shake my head, about to hang up.

“Violet Hayes?” he asks in the somewhat familiar deep voice.

“I think we’ve already established that that’s who I am.” I glance around at the flourishing trees around me, the tall grass in the fields, the ditch to the side of the road. All places where a creeper can hide.

He laughs softly in the phone. “Yeah, I guess.”

“But what we haven’t established is who you are,” I say, picking up my pace.