Page 57 of Forever To Me

She studies me for a long second—like she sees something in me I don’t want her to.

But then she nods and strums another note, and just like that, I know she’s already finding her way back. And damn it, so am I.

I finish the barn chores, and when I step back into the kitchen, chaos is already in full swing.

Maggie whips batter in a mixing bowl like she’s on a mission. Mack sits on the counter, barefoot and smug, flipping through her phone. Violet, still in her borrowed sweatpants and hoodie from last night, leans against the fridge, grinning at both. Pickles runs back and forth, excited that so many people are here.

“What is happening?” I ask, crossing my arms.

Maggie gestures at the mess of flour and butter across the counter. “Making breakfast, obviously.”

I arch a brow. “Yeah, but why areyoucooking?”

“Oh, don’t be dramatic,” she scolds, swatting me with a dish towel. “We’re celebrating.”

Mack looks up. “Celebrating what?”

“Being alive,” Maggie says.

The words land heavier than they should.

For a second, we all get quiet.

Because last night could’ve gone a lot differently.

Violet’s gaze flickers to me, and I see the weight of it in her eyes too.

Maggie claps her hands together, breaking the moment. “Anyway! Waffles fix everything.”

Mack rolls her eyes. “That is a lie, but I’ll allow it.”

Violet chuckles, looking over at me. “You gonna let her burn those waffles, Walker?”

I exhale, shaking my head. “I will if I want to live, apparently.”

Maggie smirks. “Smart man.”

We eat at the big farmhouse table, plates piled with waffles and syrup.

It’s loud—Mack and Violet throwing sarcastic comments back and forth, Maggie fussing over how much syrup everyone uses. The truth is, we kind of need the syrup to cover up the taste of the waffles. Maggie is a terrible cook, but we say nothing and dig in.

And somehow, it feels normal.

Like this isn’t temporary.

Like they’ve always been here.

Mack teases Violet relentlessly about something—probably how she nearly fell on her face earlier when she tripped over my dog in the hallway.

“That was a velociraptor attack,” Violet says, pointing her fork at Mack.

Mack smirks. “She was literally asleep.”

“I think she moved last second,” Violet accuses.

“Riiiiiiight,” Mack counters.

“Walker, tell your daughter that your puppy is an energetic velociraptor,” Violet pleads.

---