Page 122 of Forever To Me

She glares. Then downs the whiskey in one go.

I pour her another.

“Asher freaking Wyatt.” She shakes her head and stares at me as if she’s trying to determine whether I’m real or not.

“You can quit saying that anytime now.” I stare at the ceiling. “I think I’d rather go with Cowboy at this point.”

“Easy for you to say, you didn’t just meet your idol.”

I snort. “Your idol. You were Mack’s age when I ended my career.”

“Yeah, and my parents were so sad. So many people mourned the loss of you. You were everywhere for a while, and then you just disappeared. And apparently, you never really ended that career. Look at you still going,” she says as she waves her hand at the room containing my life's work.

“I came to Bridger Falls with a baby,” I tell her as I pour more into our glasses.

“What happened to her mom?” she asks.

“She and I were married, but that's a story for another time,” I say as I tip my glass back and finish it.

For the next two hours, I tell her everything. Well, almost everything. It's a lot for one night. And every time I drop another piece of my past, we drink.

“I walked away from Nashville because the industry nearly ruined my life.” (One drink.)

“I still write songs and sell them under a pseudonym.” (Another drink.)

“Yeah, I was supposed to be the next big thing. And yeah, I didn’t want any of it.” (Drink, drink.)

“Maggie’s known this whole time.” (Violet shakes her head and drinks twice.)

Somewhere around the time we finish the bottle, she’s sitting cross-legged on the floor, flipping through one of my old notebooks, giggling to herself.

And me? I’m sitting next to her, watching how her hair fallsover her shoulder, how her smile keeps lingering, and how she’s completely, entirely in my world now.

She looks up, her whiskey-drunk eyes soft and teasing. “You know,” she murmurs, “you’re not nearly as grumpy as you pretend to be.”

I huff a laugh. “Only with you, Red.”

She grins, tipping her head to the side. “Oh, so you’re admitting I get special treatment?”

I lift a brow. “You want me to start treating you like everyone else?”

She pretends to think. “Mmm. Nope. I like this version of Walker. Asher Walker." She smirks and shakes her head in disbelief.

Her eyes flick to my mouth. And I swear the entire world tilts. Because I’m drunk. And she’s drunk. And she’s looking at me like she’s about to do something incredibly stupid. Which is why I should stop this.

I should be a responsible adult. I should—her fingers skim my jaw.

And just like that, I’m gone.

I close the space between us, my hand tangling in her hair as I kiss her slowly, deeply, and recklessly. She melts against me, whiskey-sweet and warm, her hands sliding into my shirt like she’s needed to do this for weeks. And maybe she has. Because I know I have.

I don’t know how long we sit there, tangled together, her lips pressing against mine like she’s learning every damn secret I haven’t told her yet.

But then—a loud thump.

We pull apart, blinking. The GRAMMY has fallen off the fireplace and onto the floor.

Violet bursts out laughing. “Wow,” she gasps. “Even your trophies are trying to stop you from making bad decisions.”

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