Page 126 of Forever To Me

He kisses me softly. "I guess you made me work for this."

I laugh. "You made me work for it, too. But that's what makes it worth it. You were never going to be just one night. I don't know how, but I felt that from the first night. You mean so much to me, Walker."

He smiles and says, "That night when I drove away from you, I didn't want to leave. I wanted to take you to breakfast and stay with you. I wanted to know your name and everything about you, Violet Wilson."

"I felt the same way. I was so sad when I woke up that morning and you were gone. I thought you were a dream," I admit.

Later that night, we go back to Walker's home and shower. Together. And have another round of glorious sex that I can still feel when I close my eyes. When I stretch up to kiss him and head back to my room, his fingers trail down my arm and around my hand as he pulls me into his bed with him. He shuts off his lamp and pulls me in, not saying anything, just tucking me into him, and we fall asleep that way.

Then I wake up with the sun peeking through. I've always been a morning person, and it's a habit I've gotten back into again since I've been getting up with Mack every day.

I love him.

God. The words still burn through me, leaving my chest rawand aching, but in the best possible way. Like breathing fresh air after a lifetime of holding it in.

I’ve spent so long running from things like this, from feelings that dig in too deep, that threaten to stay. But now? I don’t want to run. Not from him.

Because Walker just told me he loves me last night.

And I told him right back. No hesitation. No fear. No second-guessing.

And now I lie here, completely wrecked in the best possible way, my pulse still racing, my body still humming, knowing—truly knowing—that this is real. That this isn’t just some fleeting, temporary thing.

That he’s mine.

And I’m his.

And somehow, that doesn’t scare me.

I think about all the times I tried to push this feeling away. Tried to tell myself I was imagining the way he looked at me. That the heat between us was just chemistry and nothing more. That the way he touched me—like he couldn’t help himself—wasn’t the beginning of something unstoppable.

I was so damn wrong. Because this? This is everything.

I glance at him now, watching him in the soft glow of the morning sun, the way his chest rises and falls, steady and sure.

The same man who once kept himself locked up so tight he barely let anyone see past the surface. The same man who just let me all the way in.

And it hits me all over again, knocking the air out of my lungs.

God, I love him. This grumpy, stubborn, beautiful man who looks at me like I hung the damn stars. Like I belong here. With him. And the wildest part?

I do, I think as I drift back off to sleep.

I wake up to the smell of bacon and the sound of Maggie humming.Humming.Which can only mean one thing.

She knows.

I lean over and kiss Walker softly and slide out of the bed, creeping down the hall to my bedroom and throwing on a hoodie. Shuffling into the kitchen, I brace for impact.

Maggie stands at the stove, flipping bacon and looking entirely too pleased with herself. “Mornin’, sugar.”

I grumble in response, pouring myself coffee.

She turns off the stove, plates the bacon, and leans against the counter, smiling like a damn fox in a henhouse. “So,” she says, far too casually, “How was your night?”

I freeze mid-sip. Then I slowly lower my mug. "I still can't believe you kept that from me."

Maggie just shrugs, all innocent-like. “Walker is just a guy. Country music legend. Secret hit songwriter. Owner ofseveralprestigious music awards. But to me? He's my friend. My family."

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