Page 124 of Forever To Me

The way he wants me to stay.

It’s all there, in his words, scripted out beautifully in his handwriting. Like he’s been writing me into his life before he even knew how to admit it.

I press my hand against the desk, trying to catch my breath. And that’s exactly when he walks in.

I don’t hear the door open. But I feel him.

I look up, and he’s standing there, framed in the doorway, his jaw tight, his eyes locked onto the notebook in my hands.

For a second, neither of us speaks.

Then—his voice comes out, rough. “Violet.”

I swallow hard. “You wrote this?”

He doesn’t answer. Doesn’t need to. Because the guilt is written all over his face.

I take a shaky breath. “This song—” I shake my head. “You wrote thisabout us.”

His fingers flex at his sides. “Red?—”

“How long?” My voice is barely above a whisper. “How long have you been feeling like this?”

His jaw ticks. But he doesn’t look away. Which means I get to see the exact moment he gives up trying to hide it.

Walker exhales, slow and deep. Then, finally, finally, finally—“Since the night I picked you up on my bike.”

I suck in a breath.

His voice drops lower. Rougher. “Since you walked into my bar like you already belonged there.”

I clutch the notebook tighter, my heart slamming against my ribs.

“Since you started taking care of Mack like she was yours.”

His gaze drops to my lips.

And suddenly, I can’t breathe.

“I didn’t mean to write about you, Red.” His voice is like gravel, low and thick and dangerous. Then he adds, “I didn’t mean to want you this much, either.”

We’re too close now. I don’t know who moved first. Maybe him. Maybe me. Maybe we’ve been moving toward this for weeks.

All I know is that his hands are on me now, gripping my hips, pulling me forward, closing the last bit of space between us.

All I know is that his breath is warm against my skin, and my fingers curl into his shirt, and I want him. Not just in a fleeting, reckless way. Not just because he’s Asher Wyatt, a country music legend. But because he’s my Walker.

The man whose heart holds mine. The man who eats dinner with us, takes care of his family, and would do anything for the people that he loves.

And I have never wanted anyone more in my entire life. Never felt this deep for anyone. When I look at him and picture my life without him, I can't bear the ache it leaves with just even the thought.

His forehead drops to mine. “Tell me you want this, Red.”

I don’t hesitate. “I want you.”

And then he kisses me. And holy hell, it is everything. It’sslow and deep and messy, his lips sliding over mine like he’s been waiting to do this for too long.

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