Chapter 23 #2
Rowan’s hands lift again. “Then stop scaring Violet.”
Archer’s tone is just as playful. Watching him become Rowan’s voice so naturally, without any pause or stumble, tells me this is their normal.
“Okay, e-nough.” Zane steps in before things can spiral any further. “No b-bothering your mom.”
He slides plates onto the table beside neatly folded napkins, the silverware tucked into circular loops that catch the light.
The table is set beautifully, chairs lining the sides with none at the head, as if everyone here meets on equal ground. At the center rests a large glass vase of dark purple violets, their yellow centers bright against lavender stems and small green twigs.
“These are beautiful,” I whisper before I can stop myself.
“You like them?” Vienna beams. “Zane made the bouquet for you. All the flowers, including the violets, are from our greenhouse.”
“Th-they’re still tied with th-thread,” Zane adds. “I j-just put them in w-water so they stay fresh until you c-can take them home.”
My throat tightens at their thoughtfulness. “Thank you. That’s so sweet of you, but you really didn’t have to go through all that trouble. I’m already grateful just to be here.”
“Zane loves doing things that make family members happy. You won’t be able to convince him otherwise.” In that simple sentence, Vienna doesn’t just describe Zane—she tells me I belong in this house, not as an outsider, but as one of them.
She slips her arm around her husband’s waist, fitting there perfectly.
They seem to find small excuses to touch, sharing brief, effortless moments of affection.
Zane presses a soft kiss to Vienna’s forehead before turning toward the refrigerator.
She takes a seat beside Archer, across from Rowan and me.
“Come on, let’s start before the food gets cold.”
After breakfast, Zane suggests we sit outside under the pergola, where he’s lit a fresh fire.
He and Vienna are still in the kitchen making another round of coffee, and Rowan just went to the bathroom.
I wander toward the greenhouse, drawn by the filtered light and the faint, earthy smell of damp soil and leaves.
“You’re back.” I turn as I hear footsteps behind me. “I was just about to text—” I stop short. “Oh. Sorry. I thought you were Rowan.”
Archer grins, wide and easy. “Happens more often than you’d think. Even though we don’t look alike, people still mix us up.” He steps closer. “How are you doing?”
“I’m okay. Better today than most days.” I glance back toward the house. “I’m really glad I came. Your parents are amazing. Your mom is so cute and funny, and your dad… God, he’s so sweet and considerate.”
“Our dad set the bar impossibly high—for work, for family, for love. I figured early on I’d never measure up, so I stopped even trying.” He gives me a playful wink. “There’s less pressure that way.”
His tone shifts. The relaxed, teasing Archer I’ve seen all morning slips away, replaced by someone more guarded.
“But Rowan,” he continues, “is different. He’s like Dad in so many ways. He cares with everything he has. He carries responsibility like it’s second nature. And that’s what scares me.”
I swallow, nervous of where he’s going.
“If Rowan loves someone”—Archer meets my eyes—“there’s no limit to what he’ll give, no line he won’t cross for them, and no part of himself he won’t hand over.”
My pulse skitters, quick and uneven. He’s worried about Rowan because of me.
The truth sits heavy and undeniable. I’m not the only breakable one in our relationship.
“I know I’m biased,” Archer adds quickly. “He’s my brother. But a lot of what I’m saying comes from knowing him better than anyone else.” He offers a small smile like he’s trying to take the edge off everything he just said. “You’re lucky, Violet. Rowan—”
I don’t let him finish the thought.
“Believe me, I know. I remind myself of that every single day since I came home with Rowan.”
Archer exhales, nodding. “I don’t have anything against you. I’m just trying to protect my brother. If you think that once your memory returns you won’t want a life with someone like Rowan then please don’t let him hope for something that won’t last.”
His words register slowly. The implication of what he’s really worried about settles over me like a cold draft—that I might get my memory back and choose to leave.
“I understand you’re vulnerable right now,” Archer continues.
“What you’re feeling makes sense. But it might be temporary.
One day, your memories could come back and you’ll find your way back to the woman you were.
Or you’ll make peace with the new version of yourself.
Either way, you’ll be ready to move forward.
” He pauses. “Rowan’s challenges, however, aren’t temporary.
His selective mutism won’t change. You two may have bonded over your vulnerability, but yours has an ending, while his doesn’t. ”
Care is threaded through his every word.
“I worry about the day you find your footing again. You will be ready to step back into a world bigger than his house, but Rowan’s life has always been there—in his books, his plants, in that beautiful cage, his fucking solarium.
That’s where he’s happiest. So I’m asking you to be careful, to think deeply about where this could lead. ”
Silence settles between us. Archer’s every word is true.
Rowan’s world is his home. He doesn’t crave the outside in the way most people do. He’s content in those closed walls, surrounded by nature.
“I understand what you’re saying.” My voice comes out calmer despite the storm in me.
“And I can’t promise how I’ll feel when my memories come back.
I can’t promise whether I’ll make peace with my life the way you described, or if I’ll want something different.
” I pause, choosing honesty over comfort.
“I also can’t promise that I won’t one day want to step outside the safe bubble that has been Rowan’s home. ”
My pulse thrums loudly in my ears.
“But what I can promise, is that today, and in whatever tomorrow looks like, I don’t see myself being happy in a world where Rowan isn’t part of it.” My breath falters, but I don’t stop. “Slowly, without me even realizing it, my definition of happiness has begun to start and end with him.”
My heart races as I admit something I haven’t allowed myself to think too deeply and something I certainly haven’t said out loud to Rowan.
I swallow past the thick knot of emotion as Archer stares at me, wide-eyed. There’s no accusation there anymore.
“I haven’t said this much to Rowan,” I say quietly. “So, I’d appreciate—”
“I’m not going to interfere,” he cuts in gently.
“That’s not my place and it’s not what I want.
If you and Rowan can find happiness together, there won’t be anyone prouder and happier than me.
” His voice loses its careful weight. “My brother deserves every good thing that comes his way, and so do you. I’m sorry if my words hurt you, but looking after Rowan has always been second nature to me.
” His gaze drops briefly before lifting again.
“I failed once and I don’t intend to make that mistake again. ”
His jaw tightens and his hands curl slightly at his sides as if holding on to something heavy and old. Whatever guilt he carries, I don’t want to disturb it.
Some wounds don’t need to be reopened to be respected.
“I’m not upset. I understand your worry for Rowan, and I’m happy that you’re so protective of him.”
Archer is already turning away when the question slips out of me. “Did you only come talk to me because you’re worried about Rowan?”
He pauses and looks back over his shoulder. Then he slowly turns around to face me, one brow lifting. “I don’t understand.”
I chew on my bottom lip, suddenly unsure. “In the past, before… the accident, was I hurtful somehow? Did I do something that made you think I could hurt Rowan?”
The confusion on his face slowly fades, replaced by understanding.
“To be honest, I didn’t really know you that well.
Sure, we hung out together with my cousins and your friends, but Rowan and I were always a little scared of you.
So we kept our distance.” He gives me a smile that’s almost sheepish.
“Scared?” I squeak. “What did I do?”
He grins. “You have a habit of dragging everyone into intense discussions, and most of the time we have absolutely nothing to contribute to questions like”—he clears his throat dramatically—“‘when dogs dream about their humans, do they see us as a four-legged animal with a human face running alongside them?’”
I laugh. “I asked that?”
“And so many more like it.” He shakes his head.
My phone vibrates in my hand. My eyes drop to the screen and my pulse skips.
Rowan: Is my brother bothering you?
I look up just in time to see Rowan approaching us, concern written clearly across his face. But he must see my smile. His shoulders ease as he reaches us.
“Not at all,” I say quickly. “Archer was telling me about the things I used to talk about when we all met at Willow’s or Daisy’s place.”
“I told her she scared the shit out of us,” Archer adds easily.
Rowan’s lips curve into a grin and he signs, “Archer more than me.”
Archer translates for him and then says aloud, “Not at all, Ro. Not at all.”
Rowan bumps his shoulder lightly against his brother’s, the gesture so sweetly affectionate. Watching them like this—relaxed, teasing, comfortable—tugs my heart in the best way.
They look cute. A word that probably wouldn’t cross anyone’s mind if they saw them in their full professional modes.
Rowan signs again, and Archer relays his words without missing a beat.
“Mom and Dad could use some help. What started as a simple coffee has turned into another full breakfast situation. I think you should go in and remind them we’re already full.”
Archer shakes his head as he turns toward the house. “Good thing we escaped when we did, Ro. Otherwise, you and I would’ve swollen up like whales, and then Violet definitely wouldn’t be impressed by you at all, bro.”
The laugh that escapes me is easy and unguarded.
How natural it feels to belong in this moment, among these people, even just for now.