Chapter 30 Bonded enough already
BONDED ENOUGH ALREADY
ROWAN
What kind of goodbye do you never want to say again?
ChaosInPurple: Where everything feels normal. It’s just another wave, another see you soon, but then life closes a door you didn’t know was about to shut. There’s no warning, no extra minute to hold on a little longer, no chance to say the things you thought you had time for.
I think I’ve always been a little afraid of people becoming memories before I’ve had enough time to memorize them.
Maybe because I lost my parents before I was old enough to remember them properly. Their goodbye wasn’t something I got to witness or understand—it just became a part of my life before I even knew what it meant to lose someone.
And then years later, I learned what it feels like to lose someone you do remember. The kind of person who feels like home in human form, who you’re certain will always be there until one day, they aren’t.
Those goodbyes are different.
If I could choose, I’d never want a goodbye that feels unfinished. I’d want the kind where you get to hold on a little longer, say every ‘thank-you’, every ‘I love you’ your heart has been saving up.
“Dad, did Mom tell you,” Archer says, leaning back in his chair with a smug grin that makes me suspicious at once, “the day Violet’s sling came off, Rowan threw a whole celebration for the girls?”
My attention snaps toward him instantly.
He lifts the phone and waves it in the air.
“He called it Sling-Free Day,” Archer continues, barely holding back his laughter. “Mom even sent him pictures.”
He taps the screen and turns it toward Dad.
“See? It’s cheesy even for you, Ro.”
My heart drops.
Is that my phone?
I lean across the table and snatch the phone straight out of my brother’s hand.
“How the hell did you find out my password?”
Archer only grins wider. “When your lock screen is a picture of Violet and Echo, it’s not exactly hard to figure things out. Your password is the date Violet got released from the hospital and came home with you.”
I stare at him while Dad chuckles to himself, still focused on his own phone, where he’s probably texting Mom updates about our every move.
When he finally lifts his gaze, I sign, “Dad, why are we suddenly living like a group of teenage boys on a field trip?”
I glance around the spacious living room of the presidential suite we’ve been staying in for the past several days.
The place has three bedrooms, a kitchenette, and enough room for us to spread out comfortably—yet somehow the three of us keep ending up in the same space, like restless teenagers forced to share a dorm.
“B-because your mom w-wants us to bond during this trip.”
“Ro and I are twins, Dad. We’ve been bonded since before we even knew what bonding meant.”
Dad doesn’t even hesitate. “Th-then your mom w-wants both of you to b-bond with me.”
Echo’s past owner has already dropped the charges he tried to threaten Dad with, but none of us are ready to leave yet. We want to make absolutely certain there’s no way for that man to come after Dad or Echo again.
That asshole clearly had no idea just how badly his decision to blackmail my father would backfire on him.
There’s a knock on the door, and Archer pushes himself off the couch. He returns a moment later with Troy.
Dad is already on his feet. “Hey, T-Troy, please t-tell me you have s-some good news.”
Troy nods. “Yes. Everything is finalized. The complaint has been withdrawn completely. We’ve also secured a formal agreement that prevents any future claims or harassment. We should be able to go home tomorrow.”
Finally.
Dad exhales, tension draining from his shoulders. “C-can I offer you a d-drink to celebrate the g-good news?” He’s already walking toward the bar, pouring himself a generous amount of whiskey before Troy can even respond.
“I’ll take a rain check. For now, I just want to double-check everything once more so there are absolutely no surprises waiting for us when we return home.”
Once he leaves, Archer and I join Dad at the bar. He pours two more glasses and hands them to us, the amber liquid catching the warm light of the suite.
“I can’t wait to be back,” Archer mutters, taking a sip. “Let’s order some dinner before I start eating the furniture.”
Dinner passes easily after that. Food arrives, plates are cleared, and eventually the three of us move to the couch with nightcaps in our hands.
Dad studies me for a moment. “Exc-cited to g-go back, to Violet?”
The mention of her name is enough to stir warmth in me.
Before I can respond, Archer leans forward.
“What’s the first thing you’re going to do, Ro? I mean, is it going to be like in the movies? She runs toward you the moment you walk in, throws her arms around you since she missed you so much?”
Dad smacks the back of Archer’s head. “You’d be l-lucky if a girl ever misses you th-that much, if a girl ever l-loves you that d-deeply.”
My brother rubs the back of his head, rolling his eyes. “Right, I forgot. We’re sitting here with the most romantic man of the century.”
Dad doesn’t even flinch at the title. If anything, he looks faintly proud. And somehow, watching him wear that pride so easily, I find the courage I’ve been quietly building all week.
“I’m going to tell her the truth about the night of the accident. I’ve waited too long already.”
Archer’s grin disappears instantly. “Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure. I wanted to tell her the night she came home.”
“I asked him to w-wait,” Dad adds calmly. “Violet had j-just woken up. It w-wasn’t the right t-time.”
Archer nods, pulling at an imaginary thread on his pants. “That makes sense. But what if she doesn’t see it that way? What if she feels like you hid the truth from her? Her truth. And did it without asking her first.”
My heartbeat picks up.
“R-ro did it to pr-rotect her,” Dad says firmly.
“I know that,” Archer replies quietly. “But sometimes it’s not about the truth itself. It’s about how someone chooses to see it.”
Silence settles between the three of us, thick and thoughtful.
For a moment I simply sit there, staring at the whiskey in my glass as if the answer might reveal itself inside it.
Then my fingers begin to move slowly.
“Despite the uncertainty that surrounded us the night Violet came to my home”—even now the memory feels sharp —“one thing had been clear to me. Protecting her might come with a cost. I was willing to pay it then, and I’m willing to pay it now.”
Archer’s words follow me into my room, sleep refusing to come.
I reach for my phone and open our last text exchange.
Violet: The way your mom keeps feeding me, I might become unrecognizable by the time you come back.
Rowan: I would recognize you anywhere, baby. Besides, I like the thought of having more of you to hold when I get back.
Violet: I can’t wait to be held by you. Xoxo
My thumb moves over the screen, tracing the Xs and Os as if I can gather them into my palms and hold them in my heart.
I glance at the time. It’s late, but Violet doesn’t go to sleep early. She’s probably hanging out with Mom, discussing things that make me nervous to imagine. My fingers hover for a moment before I type.
Rowan: We’re coming home tomorrow.
I watch the screen, waiting for the little typing bubble. It never comes.
Somewhere between one blink and the next, I fall asleep with my phone still wrapped in my hand.
“Ro, get up. Dad’s making breakfast today.”
I jerk awake at Archer’s voice. My phone slips from my fingers, and I catch it against the mattress before it falls, my thumb already moving across the screen before I’m fully conscious.
Nothing. No new message. No sleepy goodnight sent hours after I’d fallen asleep.
A quiet disappointment settles beneath my ribs.
Rowan: Good morning.
I send it anyway and force myself into the bathroom before I can sit there staring at an empty screen.
By the time I come back out, Violet’s side of the conversation remains unchanged.
Phone in hand, I walk into the small kitchen and dining area. Dad stands at the counter, whisking pancake batter in a large bowl, fresh-cut fruit arranged on the table beside a steaming pot of coffee. He glances up when I slide onto one of the barstools.
“Why the cooking?” I sign.
“I r-rarely get to cook for you at h-home. So I th-thought, why not? Since it’s our l-last morning here anyway.”
It’s obvious he’s excited about going back home.
“Dad, have you heard from Mom?”
He glances up, watching my fingers move, then shakes his head. “No. I th-think the g-girls had some k-kind of slumber party last night.”
“They all stayed at your house and you didn’t even know?” Archer laughs as he drops into the seat beside me.
My gaze lifts slower than my fingers move. “It’s Violet’s home too. She doesn’t have to tell me everything.”
Archer studies me for a beat, his grin widening. “Look at you. So domesticated already. First things first though, get a ring on her finger.”
I go still.
“Fuck. I wasn’t thinking, Ro,” Archer mutters quickly, catching the moment my expression shifts.
Dad reaches across and pats my hand before leveling Archer with a look that belongs entirely to our teenage years.
“Everything is going to be okay, R-rowan. You’re w-worrying too much.
From wh-what I’ve seen of Violet, sh-she’ll understand w-why you didn’t tell her the whole t-truth about the ring. She kn-knows who you are.”
I lower my gaze to the phone in my hand, letting his words settle into the quiet places inside me before my fingers move.
“That’s what I’m counting on. That she knows me well enough to believe I would never hurt her or hide anything from her intentionally.”
After breakfast, we gather our things and leave for the airport. The moment we’re seated, I text her before I can overthink it.
Rowan: We’re boarding now.
A minute passes. Then another. The screen stays silent.
For a moment, I consider calling her—the urge is almost overwhelming. To hear her voice. To have her tell me that everything is fine, that we are fine. But I set the phone face down on my knee instead and look at Dad, until his gaze is on me.
“Dad, did you manage to speak to Mom?”
He nods, fastening his seat belt and settling back. “Yeah. B-before we left I c-caught her for a b-bit. She said the g-girls had a g-great time yesterday.” His tone is warm and amused.
My attention drifts back to the phone.
The screen still shows the same thing it has for hours—my messages stacked one beneath the other, no reply underneath them. Unread, or worse, read and left unanswered.
A quiet tension coils through me as I sign, “Did Mom mention whether Violet was with her?”
“Of c-course. Where else would she b-be?”
I don’t tell him that my mind has already started wandering places it has no business going. That now that Violet is growing more comfortable around her friends again, some part of me wonders if they’ve convinced her to leave and step back into the life she had before me.
When my silence stretches too long, Dad shifts slightly in his seat. “When I sp-spoke to Vienna, th-they were out for a walk with Echo.”
My hand tightens around the armrest.
If Mom managed to take Dad’s call, why couldn’t Violet send a simple hi?
The cabin lights dim slightly as the plane begins to move. As the aircraft gathers speed, my stomach knots tighter and that familiar cold—the one I have always hated—slides its way back in.
And the reason is not the takeoff or the height we are about to climb. But somewhere ahead of me waits home and with it, the fear that whatever is waiting there might not look the same as the place I left behind.