Page 77 of Forever To Me

The name makes my blood run hot, a thousand old wounds threatening to open.

I should’ve seen it. Should’ve known the moment I first heard her sing and play the guitar.

But I didn’t.

And now, I don’t know what the hell to do with it.

I rub a hand down my face as I step inside?—

And freeze.

Because the house doesn’t feel empty.

There’s music playing, the warm scent of something cooking curling through the air, and laughter—Mack’s laughter—coming from the kitchen.

My chest goes tight at the warmth pulsing through me. My house feels like a home.

I round the corner and find Mack sitting at the kitchen counter, her schoolwork spread across the surface.

Maggie’s in the nook by the window, sorting through a stack of paperwork.

And Violet’s at the stove, barefoot, singing softly as she stirs a pot.

Violet Wilson, a musician, one good enough to be signed to a label, casually cooking dinner for my family in my kitchen.

I lean against the doorway, taking in the scene.

The warm glow of the overhead lights.

The sound of Mack scribbling notes and chewing on her pen like she always does.

The easy, unhurried rhythm of it all.

I don’t say anything at first.

Just watch. And damn if this doesn’t make me happy to come home to.

Mack looks up first, smirking when she sees me. “Hi, Dad. Did you know Violet can sing?”

She says it like it’s some earth-shattering revelation.

Like it’s a fact that should change the world.

If only she knew.

I shift my gaze to Violet, who pauses for half a second before recovering, shooting Mack a playful glare.

“Mack,” she warns, stirring the pot. “I told you it’s no big deal.”

Mack grins. “Yeah, it totally is.”

I cross my arms, watching her closely. “How’s your homework coming along?”

Violet doesn’t look at me and continues to focus on whatever she’s cooking like it’s the most fascinating thing in the room.

I spent the entire drive home thinking about her.

Thinking about what it means that she was with Royce Records.

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