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 isstill 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 adingfrom 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.”
