You sure as fuck do. Curly hair. Flower Farm. “She actually likes that town” speech. That Violet?
I shake my head, smiling.
Me:
Yeah, that Violet.
Riley:
And???
I stare at the screen before answering.
Me:
She owns the café here. Looks different but looks the same and somehow better.
Riley:
Buddy, you are down bad. Always have been, but now that you’re in the same town as her, you won’t be able to hide your feelings.
Me:
I just got here.
Riley:
So? You always liked her. Even when you pretended you didn’t. You never stopped thinking about her, and I swear you compared every girl in LA to her.
I don’t respond right away.
Me:
Ya, I don’t want to pretend this time.
Riley:
Good. Took you long enough.
I put my phone in my pocket, hop in my truck, but don’t start it yet.
Seeing Violet again pulls something loose in my memory, a version of myself I haven’t thought about in years.
Sixteen. Restless. Counting down the days until I was leaving.
She was always rooted here. Even back then. While some of us talked about getting out, Violet talked about staying. About building something. About belonging.
I remember watching her at football games, wrapped in a blanket, even if it wasn’t cold, cheering louder than anyone else. I remember noticing her in ways I never admitted out loud.
If I had dated anyone back then, it would have been her.
Not because she wasn’t beautiful, she was. She was also kind, intoxicating. She felt like home in a way I wasn’t ready for.
And I knew I was leaving.
I knew I would have been gone in two years, chasing something bigger than this town, and I couldn’t bring myself to start something I already knew would end.
Violet has always loved Lavender Creek, and I would never ask her to leave. That would have been selfish. And yet staying would have felt like giving up who I thought I needed to be.
