Chapter 25 #2
I watch Violet sit in front of the fire, the golden flames painting soft light across her face as she lifts the spoon and takes small, careful sips of the minestrone.
Even here, wrapped in heat, she feels distant, as if part of her is still standing in my parents’ greenhouse with Echo pressed to her chest.
I know I won’t be able to keep her inside for long.
I promised her that I would join her on the porch, but I’m worried about Violet. The cold isn’t what terrifies me. I can counteract that with blankets and fire. It’s the quiet storm inside her that she’s trying to sit through alone.
My first instinct is to text her doctor.
Would that be crossing a line? Would she feel betrayed if she knew I reached out without telling her? I chew on my bottom lip, indecision scraping at me, and then I do what I always do when I don’t trust myself to have the right answer.
I text Dad.
I tell him everything. Everything since we left their house—her silence, the way she stared at the greenhouse, the hours on the porch.
I don’t tell him about the hug. That part stays with me.
The memory flashes in my mind of how she held me like I was something solid, something necessary.
She chose me again.
Not out of habit or confusion, out of need.
I see Dad come online. I watch the tiny “typing” bubble appear and disappear, appear again, but then nothing.
Is he talking to Mom?
I don’t mind if he is; they’re better at handling a crisis together.
Violet takes the last sip of her soup and sets the bowl down gently just as my phone vibrates.
Dad: I have an idea. Vienna believes it’ll work. We’ll be there shortly.
Fuck.
My stomach drops. The last thing I want is for Violet to feel cornered and overwhelmed by the well-meaning love of my family.
Rowan: I don’t know if Violet is okay with company, Dad. I just needed advice.
“Shall we go out now?” Violet asks, pulling me from the spiral I have created for myself.
I look at her and her face is calmer than before, but there is still something delicate there, like glass that has been repaired but not fully strengthened.
Should I tell her?
If I do, will she think I ran to my parents because I don’t trust her strength?
Fear curls low in my gut.
“I’ll freshen up quickly.” She stands and offers me a small smile. “Like you suggested, I’ll put on warmer clothes.”
In that smile, I catch a glimpse of her, my Violet, the woman who teases, shines, speaks too fast, and fills rooms with her positivity.
While she disappears into her room, I move with restless energy.
I retrieve the portable heater from storage and carry it to the porch.
I layer thick blankets across the couch, making a nest of warmth.
I light a few sandalwood candles, their smoke curling upward, filling the air with a grounding and earthy energy.
If she needs to sit outside, then I will make the outside as gentle as I can.
“This is so beautiful.”
Violet’s voice comes from behind me, threaded with appreciation, and I turn.
She’s wearing a light cardigan and holding a thick blanket awkwardly in her good arm. Her hair falls loosely over her shoulders.
I cross the distance between us, take the blanket from her, and motion for her to sit. Once she does, I tuck the blanket around her, ensuring her sling rests comfortably.
She looks up at me. “Thank you.”
I’m about to tell her about my parents, when the low hum of an engine drifts through the air.
Her head snaps toward the driveway. “Someone’s here.” Her eyes widen slightly and my lips thin.
I reach for my phone.
Rowan: It’s my parents.
She looks at me, confusion flickering across her face. “Did something happen?”
How do I tell her that nothing happened except that I panicked and might have exposed her vulnerability without asking?
A wave of dread moves through me.
Will she be upset?
My parents didn’t arrive empty-handed.
“We heard you were missing this guy.”
Mom grins as she cradles Echo against her chest, while Dad follows behind her with a dog bed slung over one shoulder and a large bag hanging from the other. If I had to guess, I’d say it’s filled with multiple toys and dog food.
“Oh my God,” Violet gasps as Mom steps closer and lets Echo nuzzle into Violet’s arms.
“He can stay with you tonight, if you’d like.”
My hands move immediately before Mom can give Violet an idea that isn’t going to work.
“We don’t have a greenhouse,” I sign.
Mom barely glances at my hands before waving the concern away like an annoying fly. Echo has already been transferred into Violet’s arms, where he settles with surprising ease.
“With the number of plants you keep in that solarium, Ro,” Mom says breezily, “it could easily qualify as a greenhouse. Maybe not a full one, but at least a partial greenhouse.”
Then she turns to Violet with that same conspiratorial smile.
“He’s complaining that he doesn’t have a greenhouse.”
Violet looks between us, still a little stunned by the entire ambush, her eyes moving from my mother’s bright enthusiasm to my alarmed face.
“But Rowan is right,” she says slowly.
“W-why don’t we let Ec-cho decide?” Dad clears his throat, shocking me once more.
My father, who usually balances Mom’s unstoppable optimism with calm practicality, seems to be playing along with her. Before I can question what the hell he means, Dad simply walks past us and into my house, as if the matter has already been settled.
I carefully take Echo from Violet, mindful of the sling around her arm. The last thing she needs is to strain it further. The moment I lift him, the dog lets out a soft whimper that slips straight through my ribs.
If he’s upset about this arrangement, my parents are about to hear exactly what I think about their surprise.
We follow Dad inside, our small procession moving quietly through the house until we reach the solarium. He rearranges the tall indoor potted plants, forming a loose semicircle, and then places the dog bed in the center.
“W-why don’t you p-place him on the bed?”
My hands tremble as I lower Echo onto the soft cushion. His small body sinks into the fabric, and then all of us simply stand there, staring at the little guy. He turns slowly, curling himself into a tight ball, and shifts his position a few times.
And then he exhales, a long breath of being home.
Mom squeals, throwing her arm around Dad. “Didn’t I tell you, Zane?”
“What?” I sign.
Dad grins, pressing a soft kiss to Mom’s forehead while keeping his arm around her shoulders. “W-when we first met Echo, we w-wanted to give him t-to you. We th-thought you’d like his c-company.”
Mom nods enthusiastically. “But when we actually brought him home, we thought it might be too much for you guys,” she says, glancing toward Violet’s sling.
“Since Violet is still recovering, we didn’t want to disturb you two.
But when Echo refused to come inside our house, I told Zane maybe we were trying to bring him into the wrong home. ”
I pinch the bridge of my nose.
Of course. Mom and her over-the-top beliefs.
“Just look at him,” she continues, gesturing toward the bed. “He wasn’t this comfortable even in our greenhouse. We bought so many dog beds for him.”
As if Mom needs his confirmation, Echo lifts his head, twitching his ears for a fraction and then rising.
It’s both heartbreaking and astonishing to watch him move with his eyes sewn shut. Echo lowers himself and settles between Violet and me.
“I knew it.” Mom clasps a hand over her chest before turning toward Violet with shining eyes. “They say the best homes are when the dog finds their family, not the other way around. Dogs can sense much better than we can whether the companionship is meant for a lifetime or not.”
My heartbeat pounds. Violet and I haven’t even spoken about what we are to each other, whether we are a family together or not. And yet Echo has already chosen us as his people.
What kind of strange sorcery is this?
There are tears shining in Violet’s eyes when she kneels down and gathers Echo carefully into her arms. “Thank you so much for choosing us.”
Us. She said us.
My parents stay another half hour, making sure Echo settles in properly. But that dog has apparently decided that “settling in” means claiming his place with absolute certainty.
Right now, he’s wedged comfortably between Violet and me on the carpet while my parents sit on the couch. Echo’s chin rests on Violet’s lap, and the tip of his tail brushes lightly against my thigh every few seconds. Mom’s smile hasn’t faded even a little.
Dad finally rises from the couch and offers Mom his hand. “I d-don’t think we need to w-wait anymore. Echo is h-happier here than he w-was with us.”
There’s no disappointment in his voice. If anything, there’s quiet satisfaction.
Leaving Violet and Echo in the solarium, I walk my parents to the front door. When the three of us step onto the porch, I close the door softly behind us. Before I can say a word, Mom raises her hand like she’s stopping traffic.
“My plan worked beautifully, Ro, so don’t you dare say anything.”
“Mom!” I sign. “What if it hadn’t worked? Violet is still finding her way through everything.”
“I know. The same way I knew Echo is exactly what she needs. What you both need.”
I press my lips together as her words ring true in my ears. “Next time, I want you two to share your plan with me before you pull something like this.”
Mom waves her hand dismissively. “Yeah, yeah.”
Translated from Vienna Teager language, it means she absolutely will not tell me anything the next time either.
Dad only grins. “Now g-go back inside, R-ro. Your family is w-waiting.”
The words catch me off guard. My family.
I shake my head, unsure how to argue that. I don’t want to argue that.
I want Dad to be right. I want the two lives sitting quietly in my solarium right now to be mine. For tonight and forever.
When I return, Violet looks up from the couch, where she now sits beside Echo. Her hand moves slowly through the pale fur along his back.
“Your parents are…” she begins, her voice trailing off.
I pull out my phone.
Rowan: Crazy, I know.
She glances up from the screen, and a grin spreads across her face.
“I was actually going to say amazing. But crazily amazing definitely fits them better.” She lifts one hand from Echo’s fur and holds it up between us.
“Look. My hand is still shaking. I’m so freaking nervous.
But… I also don’t feel that hollow feeling anymore.
The one that was sitting in my chest earlier. ”
I nod slowly, offering a silent prayer of gratitude for the two people who raised me and their ability to bulldoze through life with ridiculous confidence and unexpected kindness.
“I hope he doesn’t get nervous during the night.” Her fingers return to Echo’s soft white fur.
Rowan: Looking at how comfortably he’s settled in, I doubt he will. But let me set up his food and water so he knows where everything is. That way if he wakes up hungry or thirsty, it’s all right here.
I grab the large bag my parents left behind, and as expected, it’s packed with more supplies than a dog could reasonably need for one night.
There are toys—several of them—two stainless steel bowls, and a row of neatly packed plastic containers filled with homemade dog food.
Each container has a small piece of tape across the lid with a date written in my father’s careful handwriting. Beneath them lies a sheet of instructions detailing how long each portion should be refrigerated, when it should be frozen, and exactly how much Echo should eat.
Of course Dad had a system in place already.
I scoop a portion of food into the bowl and fill the other with fresh water before placing both beside Echo’s bed, near the cluster of large potted plants.
Violet gently lowers Echo onto the floor, and the dog’s ears lift slowly at the sound of her voice.
“Come on, baby. Let’s show you where everything is.”
She begins walking beside him at an unhurried pace, close enough that the loose fabric of her pajamas brushes lightly against his side. They stop beside the bowls I’ve placed near the dog bed.
Echo sniffs the air, and then stepping forward, he finds the food bowl almost immediately. He takes a small bite, laps up a little water, and then pauses as if committing the location to memory.
Rowan: I think he understands that his food is here.
Then I wait, wondering if he’ll curl into the dog bed or…
Echo doesn’t keep me waiting for long. He walks straight back to Violet and rubs his neck against her leg.
“I know.” Violet smiles. “Let’s go back to the couch. It’s much more comfortable, right?”
She once again walks slowly, keeping pace beside him, and I realize she’s doing it on purpose, letting him map the room little by little. When Violet settles onto the couch, she pulls Echo beside her, and the dog immediately curls against her.
I leave them for a moment and step out onto the porch. The night air is colder now. I gather the blankets I’d left outside earlier, along with the candles, and lock the door behind me before returning inside.
My parents.
I shake my head, unable to stop the smile tugging at my mouth.
I hadn’t expected today to end like this. I hadn’t expected to feel this light after everything that happened earlier. Yet they managed to shift the entire day.
Before heading back to the solarium, I stop briefly in my room and grab a few pillows.
When I return, Violet is still on the couch, with Echo nestled against her side. I drop the blankets and pillows onto the carpet and light a sandalwood candle on the mantel.
As I prop one of the pillows against the arm of the couch, Violet tilts her head. “What are you doing?”
My hand pauses. I take out my phone.
Rowan: I thought you might want to stay here with him tonight.
Her eyes widen slightly. “Can I?”