26. Violet
Chapter 26
Violet
M ack and I have fallen into our usual post-dinner ritual where we curl up on the couch under a pile of mismatched blankets with a bowl of popcorn balanced between us and Heartland on the TV.
Rip sprawls across my legs, snoring softly, occasionally kicking like he’s chasing something in his dreams. Probably goats. Pickles is curled up in Mack’s lap.
Mack is fully invested in our show, her eyes glued to the screen as a brooding cowboy delivers a heartfelt speech that will probably lead to some dramatic, slow-burn kiss.
“This man needs therapy, not a horse,” she declares, tossing a piece of popcorn into her mouth.
I laugh, sipping my root beer float. “Accurate. But I wouldn’t say no to a troubled cowboy falling in love with me.” The words are barely out of my mouth when I hear it—a low voice from the other couch, quiet but unmistakable.
“You don't need a cowboy, Red.”
I freeze.
Mack doesn’t. She grins like she just won the lottery. “Ooooh, he heard that. ”
Walker sits across from us with his arms crossed like he’s trying to keep it together, but the slight flush creeping up his neck gives him away.
“I wasn’t listening,” he mutters, but it sounds weak even to him. "She's watched this show a hundred times."
I arch a brow. “So you just happened to respond?”
His jaw tightens. “Drop it, Red.”
Mack smirks, shoving another handful of popcorn into her mouth. “Face it, Dad. You’re down bad.”
Walker exhales sharply, like he’s wondering how he ended up here with a teenage daughter who has no mercy and a woman who makes it impossible for him to keep his walls up. “I’m going to the cabin.”
Mack and I exchange a look. Then, in perfect unison—“Goodnight, troubled cowboy,” we say and then laugh.
Walker mutters something under his breath and disappears down the hall, but not before I catch it, the tiniest hint of a smile he didn’t mean to let slip.
There’s something about quiet nights here that feels like they belong in a song.
After we finish our show, we settle in outside on the porch.The sky is so dark it’s almost velvet, the stars sharp and endless. The only sounds are the breeze rustling the trees, the occasional creak of the porch swing, and Rip snoring softly at my feet.If you're quiet and listen closely, you can hear the faint sound of music from across the lake, making me itch to go over there and join him. I would love to see what he's working on. I'm dying to know what's inspiring him to write his songs.
Mack and I sit side by side, swinging gently. It’s a routine now—our thing. When I'm not with Maggie, I'm with Mack. And we've been having so much fun.
Mack sighs, kicking her feet lazily. “I like having you here, you know,” she says, her voice soft .
I smile, turning my head toward her. “Yeah?”
She shrugs. “Yeah. You fit in here with us.”
That word hits harder than it should. Fit.
I shouldn’t let myself think about that. I shouldn’t let myself get used to this and to her, to this house, to the way Walker seems to soften when I’m around.
“You’re fun,” she adds, nudging my arm. “And you keep my dad on his toes, which is chef’s kiss entertainment.”
I laugh softly. “Glad to be of service.”
She turns serious, her eyes meeting mine. “You’re not leaving, right?”
My heart stumbles.
I want to give her a simple answer. I want to say no, of course not, but I can’t make promises I’m not sure I can keep. “I don’t know, Mack,” I say softly.
Mack frowns like that’s the wrong answer.
“Well,” she says firmly, “you should stay. Because we need you.”
Her words settle like stones in my chest, heavy but grounding. I swallow the lump in my throat.“I think I need you too,” I whisper.
A throat clears behind us. I jump, twisting around to find Maggie standing in the doorway, arms crossed, her silhouette framed by the soft glow of the porch light.
Walker pulls up down at the dock on his boat, and man he looks good. He ties up the boat and heads up the lawn, taking in all of us on the porch. Hesitating like he’s trying to decide if he wants to say what’s sitting on the tip of his tongue.
Mack grins like she’s been caught red-handed but doesn’t care. “Told you,” she says, way too smug. “Violet should think about sticking around.”
I shoot her a look. “Mack.”
She shrugs, sips her float, and then says, “You’re welcome. ”
Maggie's gaze lingers on her for a second, then shifts to me. "Y'all just having a girl’s night without me?"
"We waited up for you," I protest. "Plus, how was bingo?'
She shrugs, "It was boring, so I left early."
Which means she wasn't winning.
Mack’s gaze bounces between us, grinning like a lunatic, and she finally hops to her feet.
“Well, I’m going inside,” she announces, “because this is getting awkward in the best way.”
“Mack,” Walker says.
She turns back and gives him a quick hug. “Have fun, you two.”
"I'm heading up to bed. It's old lady time," Maggie grins.
The door clicks shut behind her, leaving just me and Walker, standing in the soft glow of the porch light. The silence is heavy now, filled with everything unsaid.
"I don't want you to go, either. If anything I think matters," he says softly.
"Never said I was going anywhere," I say softly.
His mouth turns up and he looks relieved.
"I really like your kid, Walker," I admit.
"Just my kid?" he asks. His jaw ticks. I see it—the way his fingers flex against his knee, the way his whole body goes still like he’s bracing for impact.
I lick my lips, my heart pounding. "I like you too," I whisper.
His eyes darken, his entire focus narrowing in on me like he’s trying to memorize every detail of this moment.
Like maybe he wasn’t expecting me to admit it. Or maybe, he’s just been waiting too damn long to hear it. The space between us suddenly feels too small. His hand moves, like he wants to touch me—but he hesitates. Like maybe he’s still waiting for me to take it back. Like maybe he doesn’t quite believe it yet .
So, I do the only thing I can think of to prove it. I reach for his hand, slowly, deliberately, letting my fingers brush against his.
His breath shudders. "You mean that?" he asks, voice barely above a whisper.
I nod. "Yeah. I do."
His fingers tighten just slightly around mine. He leans down and presses his lips to mine, softly kissing me, and it immediately takes me back to that night. Walker kissing me lights up my world like the Fourth of July.
It knocks the breath out of me when he says, "I came back to get something, and I'm going back to the cabin. Goodnight, Red."
I wish he'd take me with him. I watch him walk away after I confess that I like him and he kisses me. Which pretty much tells me he feels the same. But damn, his walls are high. So high, it's like a fortress I can't seem to scale no matter how hard I try.
It’s not just that Walker is good-looking in that rugged, broody cowboy way. It’s not just that he looks at me like I’m a puzzle he’s still trying to figure out. It’s more than that. So much more.
It’s the way he takes care of people without thinking twice. The way he worries about Mack but lets her find her own way. The way he never treated me like I was temporary—even when I thought I was.
And damn it, I’ve fallen for him.
And his kid. Hard. Both of them have me wrapped around their hearts. I don’t even know when it happened.
Maybe it was when he drove me around town like it was no big deal that my car was “mysteriously” still broken. Maybe it was when he gave me that vintage guitar like it wasn’t the most priceless thing he owned. Maybe it was when he brought back Rip Heeler, just to see me smile .
Or maybe it was just every single damn day, every time he looked at me like I was something worth showing up for.
Maybe, I was always supposed to end up here.
Right beside him.
Dropping Mack off at school should be simple. But nothing in my life is simple anymore. Because the second she hops out of the truck, she rolls the window down and shouts across the parking lot. “Hey, Mr. Shores, wanna buy a goat?!”
Mr. Shores—the very startled high school teacher—pauses mid-coffee sip and blinks at her like she just asked if he’d like to participate in an illegal gambling ring.
I lay my forehead against the steering wheel. This is my life now. And I might secretly love every bit of it.
“You have to stop trying to sell people goats,” I say as Mack leans into the window, grinning like a menace.
“Oh, come on,” she says, propping her elbows on the door. “We have too many, and I’m just doing some light marketing.”
“This is not light marketing,” I deadpan. “This is borderline harassment.”
She shrugs. “One man’s harassment is another man’s business opportunity.”
From across the lot, Mr. Shores slowly backs toward the school entrance, clutching his coffee like a life preserver.
Mack waves. “Think about it, Mr. S! Eco-friendly lawnmowers!”
He practically runs inside the building.
I groan, rubbing my temples. I point a warning finger at her as she backs away toward the school doors. "Have a good day," I tell her, shaking my head.
She cackles and disappears inside as she waves to me .
I sigh, shaking my head as I pull away from the school. If I don’t get coffee immediately, I will lose my mind. Steamy Sips it is. Plus, I could use some catching up with Cami.
By the time I pull up, Cami’s already at the order window, grinning like she knows I just went through some fresh hell. “Rough morning?” she asks. "I heard about your goat fiasco."
I groan. “Mack has been trying to give everyone a goat this morning. It's like the Oprah episode when she gave everyone a car. This time it's a goat. You get a goat, and you get a goat!"
Cami chokes on her coffee. “Oh my God, I'd totally take a few off your hands.”
"I'll send Mack your way for negotiations," I grin. "But be warned, she's ruthless. She’s out here pitching livestock like it's a door-to-door subscription service.”
Cami snorts. “I love that for her.”
Just as I’m about to steer the conversation back to sanity, my phone buzzes. I glance down and immediately curse under my breath. It’s Walker. His name shows up on the screen and Cami notices.
“Oooh,” Cami teases. “Walker's calling.”
I answer, bracing myself. Walker’s voice comes through, low and unimpressed.“Red.”
I grin. “Walker.”
“Did you know my kid just emailed the entire town an ad for ‘Gently Used Goats: Negotiable Pricing’?”
Poppy and Cami absolutely lose their minds laughing.
I close my eyes, and chuckle. “No, but that’s hilarious.”
And Mack? That kid is definitely going places.
But also? Maybe she's a little bit my hero, too.
I should’ve known better than to call my mother .
Not because I don’t love her, I do. But because she is a menace. If she even sniffs that there's something she can meddle in, she will sniff it out like a bloodhound.
And, apparently, Maggie is the same way. Sisters who have that in common. Meddling.
The second Mom picks up, I barely get out a “Hey, Mom,” before she launches in.
“Well, it’s about time you called me. You know, some mothers get regular updates from their daughters, but me? Oh no, I have to get my information secondhand from my sister.”
I roll my eyes, already bracing myself. “Mom?—”
“Anyway, she tells me you’re staying with a handsome single young man,” she says with a voice full of glee.
My entire body freezes. Oh. Oh no. I inwardly groan.
“Tell me about him,” she prods, her tone way too interested.
I clear my throat, playing it cool. “Not much to tell."
“Uh-huh,” she hums, clearly smelling a lie.
I twist my hoodie’s hem—okay, it’s Walker’s hoodie, so not the point right now—and force a casual tone. “He’s just a guy.”
Silence.
Then—“Oh, sweetheart,” she says not believing me.
I groan. “Mom.”
“No, no. I just—” She exhales dramatically. “I didn’t think I’d live to see the day my daughter downplayed a man. Usually, I hear about every tiny little detail, but now? Oh, now, he’s just a guy? What makes this one so special?”
“He is just a guy,” I insist, pacing the room. “Just a regular, broody, infuriating cowboy bar owner guy.”
Mom gasps. “A cowboy? Violet, are you living in a romance novel?”
I nearly choke. “Absolutely not.”
“Oh, honey.” She sighs dreamily. “It’s finally happening. Please tell me everything.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “What is finally happening?”
“You’re smitten.”
I let out a hysterical laugh, probably further giving myself away. “I am not smitten.”
She laughs like she doesn’t believe a word I’m saying. “What’s his name?”
“Walker,” I grumble.
“Oh.” She pauses. “That’s a good name. Sounds very… masculine.”
I groan louder. “Goodbye, Mother.”
“Wait, wait, just one more question?—”
“Nope. Hanging up now.”
“Is he good with his hands? Because a cowboy bar owner sounds?—”
Click.
By the time I pull up to the Dogwood, Maggie is standing outside, hands on her hips, surveying the ongoing demolition like a queen overseeing her kingdom. She has on a pink hard hat that apparently the contractor gave her.
I hop out of the truck and march right up to her.“Thanks for telling Mom about Walker.”
Maggie smirks. “Oh, is he supposed to be a secret?”
“No, but?—”
She crosses her arms, completely unbothered. “Then what’s the problem?”
I open my mouth. Close it. Try again.
Maggie waits patiently, clearly entertained.
Finally, I huff. “She’s insufferable now. So are you.”
Maggie chuckles. “I’d imagine so. Your mother is a very smart woman.”
I narrow my eyes. “You are not helping."
Maggie gives me a sweet, innocent smile that I don’t buy for a second. “I’m just saying,” she muses, “I couldn’t have picked a better man for you if I tried.” She lifts a brow. “Which, by the way, I didn’t. You showed up here at my doorstep if you recall.”
I shift my weight, suddenly very interested in the ground. “That’s?—”
“And I’m glad you did,” she adds, her voice softer now.
I glance up at her, that warmth in her eyes knocking the breath out of me. Because I’m glad, too.
And it’s not just the town. It’s not just the people I've grown to love. It’s him. The way he makes the world feel a little steadier. The way I don’t feel like a stranger here anymore—not when he looks at me like I already belong.
I don’t say it out loud.I don’t even know if I can say it out loud.But I feel it.
Deep in my chest, my fingers curl into my sleeves, and my heart isn’t racing to run anymore.
Because for the first time in forever, I don’t want to.
Bridger Falls wasn’t supposed to stick.I was supposed to visit, help Maggie, and move on.But this place?It crept into my heart. The friendly hellos, the ridiculous gossip, the sense that every person here has already claimed me as one of their own.
It feels like home.
Maggie squeezes my arm gently, like she knows.
Hope’s a tricky thing.It sneaks in when you aren’t looking. And when you notice it—warm, familiar—you wonder if you’re supposed to chase it away or invite it to stay.
I’ve been chasing it away.But maybe… maybe this time, I won’t.
“Come on, sweetheart,” she says, nodding toward the Dogwood. “Come help me make something new out of this mess.”
I take a breath.And then I follow her inside.