Page 144 of Forever To Me

I’ve done this before. I’ve performed in bars, small concerts, and venues where I didn’t know a single face in the crowd. And back then? That was easier. Because those people? They were just strangers. They’d listen, maybe clap, maybe forget me the second they walked out the door. But these people?

I scan the crowd and feel my stomach tighten.

These people, I love. And what they think? It's all that matters to me now. It matters so much to me. And partlybecause when I left Nashville, something about performing in front of people broke inside me. My so-called friend who stole my songs ruined one of my last performances by showing up and singing my songs. And then she made damn sure I never had another performance after that. And that still haunts me. This feels like dipping my toes back into it, and it brings all those painful memories back.

This time it's different. I have so many people around me who care about me. And I'm doing this for Cami. Knowing that my singing here and at the fundraiser matters to her and helps her is what keeps me going. I know I can't live a life without music in it.

I think about all the people here tonight to cheer me on and that’s what keeps me going.

Maggie. My aunt, who is like my second mom, sits up front with that knowing little smile that says she believes in me more than I believe in myself. She always has. She sits with Mack, and they’re both smiling and happy.

Poppy. My newest best friend who somehow bulldozed her way into my life with oil-stained hands and her funny sharp wit. The girl who keeps the entire town laughing even when she’s running on fumes. She catches my eye and gives me a huge thumbs-up, her grin wide and unapologetic. As if I haven’t spent the past twenty minutes telling her I’m going to throw up. Her confidence in me is ridiculous. But it’s also kind of comforting.

And then there’s Cami. My other best friend. Listen, friend trauma is real, y'all. I had a best friend who encouraged me and was there for me. Until she got what she needed from me, then she destroyed me. It was so hard letting people in and trusting them again. But these two never took no for an answer in the best possible way. They showed up for me and reminded me that they were there for me when I didn't want to trust or believe it. They've healed that in me, and for that, I'm grateful.

Cami pushes through the crowd, makes a beeline for me, and grabs my hands.

“Vi.” Her blue eyes are wide and glassy like she’s one breath away from crying. “I can’t tell you how much this means to me. You standing up there tonight? Singing your songs? Doing all of this for the ranch?”

I squeeze her hands, trying to keep my own from shaking. “Cami, you don’t have to thank me. This is your family’s legacy. Of course, I want to help.”

She shakes her head fiercely. “No, Violet, you don’t get it. Without you stepping up like this or organizing all of this, I don’t know what I would’ve done. This fundraiser, this event, it’s all I have left. You’re giving me a fighting chance.”

I swallow hard.Damn it. My nerves were bad before, but now there’s a lump in my throat because Cami deserves this. She deserves to keep her home and her family’s ranch afloat and fight for what’s hers. And now? It’s up to me to help make that happen.

Cami pulls me into a hug, squeezing the life out of me before whispering, “You’ve got this. You’re gonna blow them all away.”

Jack and Ollie are in the front, waiting and holding their beers, and they smile and wave when they see me. I love it so much that they’re here too.

Then she’s gone, slipping into the crowd, leaving me standing there, heart pounding.

And then…there he is. Walker leans against the bar, arms crossed, watching me with those deep, whiskey-colored eyes—eyes that see right through me. There’s no judgment there, no pressure. Just unwavering belief.

That’s the part that undoes me.

Becausehe also believes in me. More than I believe in myself at this moment.

And that makes standing up here, about to perform the song we wrotetogether, all the more terrifying.

It’s one thing to sing in front of strangers, buthim? The man who knows every note, every lyric, every place where I hesitated while writing it? That’s different.

That’sintimate. It’s like sharing us with the world. We’re not in the cabin, holed up writing together anymore. We’re in the bar together in front of our town. It feels very official, and nerves get me with that, too.

My palms are clammy against my guitar, my pulse hammering so hard I can feel it in my throat. But when my eyes finally meet his, he does the one thing that steadies me, he smiles.

Not just any smile. A slow, warm curve of his lips, filled with nothing but pride.

Like he already knows I’m going to be incredible. Like Ican’tfail. Like I’m his favorite thing to watch.

Like he’s proud of me.

And somehow, that’s enough to make me take a breath, grip the guitar a little tighter, and believe, just for a moment that maybe he’s right. We’ve got this.

God, he’s calm. Always so damn steady, like nothing ever rattles him. And here I am, gripping my guitar like it might strangle me, when all I really want to do is go stand next to him, lean into him, let him tell me everything will be okay in that low, gruff voice of his.

But I can’t do that.

I have to do this.

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