Everett
MAY
Iwake up before the sun.
For a few seconds, I don’t move, I just stare at the ceiling, letting my brain slowly piece together where I am.
Violet’s apartment. In her bed, with her beside me.
Her head rests against my shoulder, one arm draped lightly across my chest like she’d fallen asleep there and never moved again. Her hair is spread across the pillow, messy from sleep, and the faint smell of her shampoo fills the room.
Last night replays like a movie in my mind. Cooking in her kitchen, her eyes glued to me. The conversations drifted from childhood stories to confessions about past relationships.
The kiss on the couch that turned into another. And another.
The way Violet looked at me last night was something I never want to forget.
Soft skin, shaky breaths, the sound of my name leaving her lips.
One night fueled by tension that had been building for far too long.
At some point, we had fallen asleep tangled together.
And now, morning light is slowly creeping through the window.
I turn my head slightly to look at her. Just as beautiful as ever.
Her breathing is slow and steady against me, and for a moment, I wonder what it would be like to wake up next to her like this every morning.
It had only been a couple months since I walked into the café and saw her. But somehow, she already feels like a part of my life. That scares me, because it means I have something to lose again.
I shift carefully, trying not to wake her. Her arm slides off my chest as I move. She stirs slightly but doesn’t wake.
I quietly get out of bed and pull my clothes back on, glancing once more at the clock on the nightstand. Still early at five thirty.
Early enough that the town wouldn’t be awake yet. Lavender Creek has eyes everywhere. If I walk out of Violet’s apartment at the wrong time of day, people will notice. And once people notice, the entire town would know by lunchtime.
I don’t want to keep us a secret, but living in a small town sometimes means you have to sneak around until you are ready for people to know your business.
It’s not like living in a big city where you can go to the opposite side unnoticed.
We haven’t talked about our relationship yet, so until we decide to announce it, this is what I’ll do.
I’d do anything for my Firefly.
I lean down and brush a strand of hair away from her face. She still doesn’t wake.
“See you later, beautiful,” I whisper. I gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead and slip out the door.
The morning air outside is cool, and the town is quiet. Main Street is still empty when I step onto the sidewalk. Everyone is still sleeping; the only people awake in the town at this hour would be my dad and Henry, since ranch work starts at the ass crack of dawn.
I walk toward my truck slowly, hands shoved in my pockets. And for the first time in a while, my mind isn’t racing with theater renovations or planning. It just kept drifting back to Violet.
The way she smiled at me, the way she looked at me like she saw something worth believing in. That was something I still have to get used to. Most of my adult life has been chaotic.
Moving to LA.
Working nonstop.
Trying to prove something to people who didn’t really care if I succeeded or failed.
Coming back to Lavender Creek had been about starting over. About building something that mattered. But somewhere along the way, Violet had become part of that vision.
I reach my truck and pull out my phone. I want to text Violet, so she knows I am thinking about her, that I wish I was still in bed with her beside me.
Me:
Good morning, beautiful. You were so peaceful sleeping, I didn’t want to wake you. I promised Henry I’d help on the ranch, so I might not be able to swing by the café. I’ll message you in a bit.
I slip my phone back in my pocket, and I hear a ding from my phone. She must have heard me leave her apartment. I feel bad for waking her up. Reaching for my phone, I see three unread texts. All from the same person.
Sydney.
My jaw tightens.
I haven’t responded to her phone call or text after she first reached out. Since then, she’s sent three more.
Sydney:
Everett, please call me.
I know you’re probably mad or wondering why I’m reaching out, but it’s important.
Please.
I stare at the messages for a moment before locking my phone again.
Whatever she wants, I’ll deal with it later. Not when I don’t have any coffee in my system.
Of course, the past shows up when everything in my life feels like it is moving forward.
By afternoon, I am still out at the ranch helping Henry. The work is exactly what I needed.
Physical. Loud. Demanding enough that my brain doesn’t get the chance to wander too far.
We are fixing a section of fence along the back pasture where one of the posts had snapped. The smell of dirt and hay hangs in the air, and somewhere in the distance, a horse kicks impatiently against a stall door.
Henry hammers another nail into the wooden post while I hold a beam steady.
“You’re awfully quiet today,” he says, glancing up at me.
I shrug. “Just thinking.”
“That’s usually dangerous,” he replies.
I smirk faintly but don’t answer. Truth is, my mind keeps drifting back to Violet. To the way she looked asleep beside me this morning. To the way she smiled when she was teasing me. The way she kissed me was like she had been waiting to do it just as long as I had.
It had been a long time since something in my life had felt this simple.
Henry finishes securing the board and steps back, wiping his hands on his jeans.
“That should hold,” he says.
I nod, pulling my phone out of my pocket to check the time.
The screen lights up immediately.
Sydney.
Henry tosses the hammer in the bed of his truck. “You heading back to town?”
“In a bit,” I say.
He nods and climbs into his truck, leaving me standing there alone near the fence line. The wind moves softly across the pasture, bending the tall grass.
Clicking on Violet’s name, I read the message she sent me back this morning.
Violet:
Good morning! Thank you for a great night last night. Dinner was delicious, and I loved hanging out with you. I hope you have a good day. Talk later :)
Leaning against the fence post, my mind goes back to the missed calls and texts from Sydney. The uncertainty of what she wants is eating away at me.
Sydney had been the love of my life once. Or at least I thought she was. She was smart, ambitious, and funny. For a while, it felt like we were building something together. Then one day she told me she wasn’t ready for the life I wanted.
She didn’t want marriage.
She didn’t want kids.
She didn’t want to be tied down, for anyone to hold her back.
So, she left. Just like that. No calls, no texts. No explanation beyond that. Until now.
I exhale slowly and press call. She answers almost immediately.
“Everett,” she says, sounding surprised that I called.
“What do you want, Sydney?” I ask.
I don’t bother pretending to be friendly.
There was a pause.
“I’m glad you called.”
I sigh. “You said it was important.”
“It is,” she says quietly.
My patience is already thin. “Then tell me,” I say.
She hesitates again. “I didn’t think you would actually call,” she says.
“I almost didn’t.”
More silence.
Then she takes a breath. “Everett, I have a daughter,” she says.
My brain doesn’t process the words at first.
“That’s good for you,” I say flatly.
“She’s yours,” she explains.
Everything inside me stops.
“What?” Asking her to repeat what she just said, there is no way I heard that right.
“She’s yours,” Sydney repeats.
I push off the fence and start tracking along the dirt path. “Is this some kind of joke? It’s not funny,” I say, feeling the anger rise in my body.
“I’m not joking,” she says firmly.
“How old?” I ask.
“Three.”
Three.
My head starts spinning. “You’re telling me I’ve had a kid for three years and you never thought to mention it?”
Her voice stays calm. “I wasn’t planning on telling you.”
I stop walking. “What?” I ask.
She sighs. “I didn’t want to complicate your life.”
A harsh laugh escaped me. “You mean like this?”
“I know you’re angry,” she says.
“You think?”
She sighs again. “Her name is Emily.”
Emily. I have a daughter. The name echoes in my head like a shockwave.
“I’m not asking you for anything,” Sydney continues. “I just thought it was unfair not to tell you. I know she’s three and you missed out, but I realized I was doing the wrong thing by keeping her a secret from you.”
“Unfair?” I ask.
“Yes, to you and to her,” Sydney says.
My hand drags across my face. “You’re telling me I have a daughter?”
“Yes,” she replies.
“And you’re just…what? Dropping this on me now? Why now?”
“I thought you deserved to know,” she says.
My heart is going to pound out of my chest. “I need to go.”
“Everett!”
I hang up. The ranch suddenly feels too quiet. Too open.
A daughter. I have a daughter.
Emily.
The name replays over and over in my head.
Three years old. Three years of birthdays I missed. Three years of first steps and scraped knees.
This isn’t how I imagined becoming a dad. I always thought someday I would have kids. But it would be with my wife.
Planned.
Exciting.
Something we chose together.
Not a phone call out of nowhere telling me my life had already changed three years ago.
And then another thought creeps in.
Violet.
She had told me once that she had accepted the possibility that she might never have kids.
What will she think about this? About me suddenly having a child in another country.
We had just started something. Barely started. One date. One incredible night.
Something fragile and new, still finding its footing. Would this be too much? Too complicated? Too soon?
Everything I thought my future looked like yesterday has shifted.
And I have no idea what is coming next.