Page 62 of Forever To Me

This is going to be a fun and hilarious night.

We grab some pizzas from the local pizza shop, because why not? What’s a few more junk food items. Walker’s going to think we’re all a bunch of raccoons when he sees all the food we bought at random.

The second we hit the road, Mack is already rummaging through my play lists,mumbling about how I have “the most tragic excuse for a playlist” and how it’s her duty to fix it.

Maggiesighs dramatically. “God help us on what she's going to choose.”

Mack pushes a button on the audio, and suddenly, the familiar bassline rumblefills the truck—Fleetwood Mac.

“Oh, hell yes,” I say asThe Chainkicks in, that slow, haunting guitar creeping through the speakers.

Maggiethrows her arms up like we’ve just hit the chorus at a sold-out concert. “NOW we’re talking!”

She cranks the volume, and just like that, we’re flying down the road, the windows down, the crisp night air whipping through the cab, singing like we’re on a damn world tour.

Maggie is the first to start drumming on the dashboard.

Mack leans forward from the backseat, pointing at her. “You’re into it.”

Maggie scoffs, still tapping her fingers to the beat. “I will neither confirm nor deny.”

Then the chorus hits, and suddenly, we’re all shouting at the top of our lungs?—

“YOU WILL NEVER BREAK THE CHAIN!”

I laugh and sing as the cool Wyoming air rushes in, carrying our voices out into the night.

WhenGo Your Own Waystarts, Maggie is all into it, throwing her head back and singing without hesitation.

And for the first time all day—after the fire, the stress, the uncertainty—we’re just here. In this truck, on this road, together.

And I think we're all okay. Or we’re going to be.

Chapter 17

Walker

Maggie, Mack, and Violet headed into town to pick up clothes and essentials.

I didn’t go.

Mostly because I don’t need to witness that chaos firsthand.

I get work done around the property while they’re gone, trying not to think about the fact that this morning was the first time my house has felt like more than just a house. It felt like a home. Full of laughter, noise, and people. I liked it.

The sound of the truck pulling in catches my attention, but it’s not the engine that makes me look up.

It’s the laughter that pours out of the windows.

Hers.

Soft, rich, and completely unguarded. A sound that wraps around me like a warm breeze, catching me mid-step as I wipe my hands on a rag.

And then she steps out.

Violet.

Her vibrant red hair’s down tonight, loose and wild, streaked with golden strands in the sunlight. It falls over her shoulders in soft waves, some of it sticking to the side of herneck from what I can only assume was a day of chaos with Mack and Maggie.

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