Page 8 of Forever To Me

And nestled just across the lake, sits the cabin. Smaller, cozier, with a stone chimney and a wide rustic front porch that overlooks the water. A place meant for quiet, solitude, and creation.

The truck rolls to a stop, the engine settling into silence. I sit there for a moment, looking at the home I’ve built, the space that should feel like peace.

Instead, all I can think about is the woman I left in town.

With a slow exhale, I climb out, the crisp night air filling my lungs as I head toward the house.

I unlock the back door, passing through the house, aglow with a few lamps.

I look at my watch. Four in the morning. Too wound up to sleep, I grab a few waters from the fridge and make my way down to the dock where my boat is tied up.

My cabin across the lake in the back of my house is my solace, one that has been just mine for well over the past decade. And this is the place I come to take out all my loneliness, pouring them into writing songs, and making masterpieces for other people to sing. Because that’s what keeps me going. Keeps me sane. Gives me something for me.

Making music is mine and mine alone. I don’t even share it with my fifteen-year-old daughter, although music is very much a part of our life in other ways. She’s active in her high schoolband and she can play several instruments. We own so much vinyl, we could open up our own vinyl shop. Music is a passion that can never take center stage in my life ever again. That entire stage is reserved for Mack now, and it always will be. I’ve made a good living writing songs and selling them privately, but running the bar and being a good dad is all I want people to see when they look at me now.

When Maggie suggested ten years ago that I buy the run-down local bar in town, I balked at first. I didn’t know anything about running a bar. I’m a former country musician. I retired here to Bridger Falls with more money than I knew what to do with. Now I write songs under a different name and live a quiet solitary life.

But becoming a single dad in an instant and realizing you have a whole human that depends on you for everything in life will quickly snap you back to reality. Mack didn’t deserve everything that happened to her. But I’ve made damn sure that she’s had everything she’s ever needed and given her the best possible life that I could. She will always be my top priority.

I keep writing to try to feel something. And up until tonight, writing songs was the only space that gave me that.

Until Red.

I settle in my chair, kick back, and pick up my guitar, playing a melody that chased me all evening. I write a few lyrics down on the pad of paper I keep in my pocket every day. I open it and begin to sing and tweak the lyrics as I strum my guitar.

After two hours I have a song. It’s not perfect, but it’s a song that I’ll keep working on and sharpen it until it’s ready to send over to my manager. I’ll sell it and then I’ll write another one. Just like I do with every song. Rinse and repeat. Then I’ll hear it all over the place. And I won’t tell anyone that I wrote it. I thought I had everything I needed in my life. A great kid that Ilove, a business that I enjoy, and I get to write songs. But lately I’ve been feeling like things are different.

But something tells me this song is different. This song just might be for me. I might tuck this one away. I haven’t wanted to do that before tonight. I think about the guitar in Red’s room with the battered case. A guitar that looked well-loved and used. Not a brand new one that someone’s looking to learn to play. I imagine Red and her smooth velvet voice singing a song and playing guitar, and my chest fills with warmth. I imagine myself singing this very song with Red and performing it beside her. Her plump red lips singing along as she strums her guitar.

Then I shake off the thoughts as quickly as they come. I used to share my music with someone and that nearly ruined me. It can never happen. That didn’t end the way I thought it would, and opening myself back to music opens up a can of worms I can’t afford to open. A risk I’m not willing to take.

Music will always be private to me. It has to be.

I make my way back to the house and head to the barn.

It’s early and the animals need to be taken care of before I try to get some sleep. Although, I’m not sure I can even sleep after last night. My mind is still vibrating with energy after being with her.

I run my hands over my horses and remind them that our favorite girl will be home in a few days. I make sure they have their feed, hay and water. I’m pretty much their back up human. They love Mack so much, and I know they tolerate me taking care of them, but they miss her.

I look over at the house as I make my way back inside. When I first built this home, I dreamed of having a family here. A big house full of people, laughter, and fun. But that hasn’t been the way life has worked out. So far, it’s just me, Mack, and Maggie. And of course, our growing farm that Mack keepsconvincing me to add animals to. And we have a good life. I’m grateful for everything that I have in my life.

Until last night, I kept my life guarded. Didn’t take chances. It helps that Bridger Falls is small and there’s not a huge dating pool. I also can’t imagine what Mack would say if I dated. Sometimes I think she’s lonely as well and deserves more people in her life, but other times I’m not sure. Maybe we’re fine just the way that we are.

We’re lucky to have so many good friends here in town. I can call anyone and lend a helping hand when it’s needed. This town has helped me heal in ways it’ll never know. It’s been our refuge, and our safe place.

It’s safer to keep it that way.

Chapter 5

Violet

I remember every little thing.

Isit up quickly, grasping the sheet to my naked chest as my heart pounds. Did I dream everything that happened last night? My hand slides across the empty space beside me, the cool sheets confirming what I already fear. Maybe that was all just one hell of a dream.

I groan and collapse back onto the bed, burying my face in the pillow next to me. That’s when it hits me — the familiar scent of leather and pine, rugged and intoxicating. His scent still wraps me in a memory I’m not ready to let go of.

I bite my lip and smile, murmuring, “Definitely wasn’t a dream.”

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