Chapter 1
Promises and Poor Life Choices
Present Day
Violet
“Ella, I swear to Christ, if you don’t get out of that bathroom in the next two minutes, I’m cutting the Wi-Fi and hiding your phone!” Steam rolls out from under the bathroom door, thick and damp, carrying the smell of her shampoo with it. Music thumps behind the wall, louder than my patience.
I flip the last pancake onto the stack that’s already gone cold. I know she’s not going to eat them. She never does when she’s running late, but I’m trying.
The door finally swings open, and Ella steps out, hair dripping, eyeliner perfect, and a face calm in that infuriating teenage way. She doesn’t even glance at the plate waiting on the counter. Instead, she grabs a banana.
“If you’d just let me go to Langport, I wouldn’t have to catch the bus.”
Here we go again. I take a breath through my teeth. “We’ve talked about this.”
“You’ve talked,” she mutters, “I’ve listened.”
“Even with your scholarship, I can’t afford the rest. I’d have to—” I stop before I say something I shouldn’t. Start making drugs again.
Langport. She says it like it’s a dream or a fairytale. I can still hear her voice from last night, rambling about ivy-covered walls and professors with accents, about how she’d finally get out of here and do something big.
She earned her way in—no surprise there. She’s always been the one who fights her way through everything, but even with the scholarship, it’s too much. Flights, housing, and all the things no one mentions in the acceptance letter are costly.
I should tell her no again, remind her we can’t afford it. Instead, I just stare at the cold pancakes and wonder when I became the person who has to break her dreams, and when being practical started to feel like betrayal.
Her chin lifts, that stubborn tilt I know too well. “Mom and Dad would have found a way.”
The words sting even if she doesn’t mean them that way. “Yeah,” I whisper, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite land. “They would have.”
She hesitates, guilt flickering in her eyes. “Love you,” she says quickly before rushing out the door.
The second she’s gone, I drop my head to the counter and inhale deeply, but the weight on my chest doesn’t lift. It never does because she’s right. Mom and Dad would’ve found a way.
It’s been six years since they’ve been gone, and the grief hasn’t left.
I’ve lost myself caring for Ella and trying to keep a roof above our heads while putting food on the table.
Selling our family home barely covered the medical bills from Ella’s stay, but it was enough.
We found this little two-bedroom apartment closer to Ella’s school, so we could walk on the bad days when she couldn't bear to get into the car or bus.
It isn't much, but it's home now. Every day is the same: get Ella up and to the bus, head to work, head home to wait for Ella to get there, make dinner, check homework, and fight Miss Independent to go to sleep at a decent time.
Don't get me wrong; she’s a brilliant student and highly motivated, but she’s also a teenage girl who thinks I’m lame.
Hell, I think I’m lame. I remember the girl I used to be vividly.
I used to be fun and carefree. I used to be popular and the life of the party.
I catch my reflection in the microwave door—mascara smudged, and hair in a knot I don’t remember making—and wonder when I became the kind of woman who gets excited about grocery sales on Ella's favorite organic waffles instead of Friday nights. How did I get so lost in this life?
I check the time. Shit, if I don’t hurry, I’m going to be late for work again.
The chime on the clinic’s door pulls my attention from the computer screen, and I glance up to see a woman walking in, cradling a small and trembling terrier wrapped in a blanket. My heart squeezes at the sight. The poor little guy looks terrified.
“Hey there.” I stand, giving her a warm smile. “Who do we have here?”
“This is Max.” She holds the bundle toward me, her voice full of worry. “He hasn't been acting like himself. I’m not really sure what’s wrong. I didn't know if I should even come in.”
I lean across the counter and lower my voice like I’m speaking just to Max.
“Hey buddy, we’re going to take good care of you, okay?
” Then I look toward the woman. “Dr. Martinez is amazing with these things. Let’s get you checked in.
” I slide a clipboard across the counter and gesture to the seating area.
“Have a seat and start filling out these forms, and she’ll call you when she's ready.”
Allowing the hum of the noises around me to lull me into a false sense of calm, I get lost in thoughts of the past, but it’s short-lived when a commotion erupts down the hallway.
“Vi, we got another one.” Emily's voice cuts through the quiet as she walks down the hallway, holding a tiny kitten wrapped in a towel. The kitten's fur is filthy, its eyes are matted closed, and its weak mewling is like a punch to the chest.
“Oh, sweet baby,” I murmur. “Where’d he come from?”
“Box by the dumpster,” Emily sighs. “He’s bad off, but I think he’ll make it.”
I open a new record so treatment can start, and it's heartbreaking to type ‘Unknown’ under most of the required fields. It never gets easier. “You’re safe now, little one,” I whisper, stroking his head.
Emily smirks. “Careful, or you’ll be the one taking him home.”
I laugh. “Don’t tempt me. The landlord already thinks I’m hiding a zoo because of all the different fosters this year.” Thankfully, the dog I had for a few weeks found its new family last week. I have to stop bringing animals home, or my landlord may kick me out.
She shakes her head and walks toward the back.
The rest of the day hums like it always does. Phones ring, refills get sent, and Dr. Martinez hums some old tune. Duke, our golden retriever mascot, nudges my elbow until I hand him a biscuit. His tail thumps against the counter like he just saved the world.
“Yeah, you’re a good boy,” I tell him, scratching behind his ears.
For a moment, I just stand there and let it all sink in. The noise. The smell. The soft shuffle of paws on the tile. It isn’t glamorous, but it’s real. Sometimes I miss the version of me that dreamed bigger, but this one feels steadier. This life is small, quiet, and honest, and it’s mine.