Page 5 of Almost Yours
She turns away before I can answer, reaching for a bowl and filling it with water like it’s the most important thing in the room.
“You really wanna know how I knew?”
She says nothing. There’s only the steady rush of the faucet.
“Because I know everything about you, Violet.” My voice drops, quieter now. “Always have.”
I hear it the second it leaves my mouth. That was too much. Sounds like something it’s not.
My best friend, Beau, is the reason I know anything at all anymore. It wasn’t intentional at first. I didn’t leave here and make a habit out of checking in on her like that. Beau and I just never lost touch.
We’d talk every now and then, catch up on work, life, whatever came up. Somewhere in the middle of it, her name would slip in. Lily Ridge isn’t a big place, and it turns out that Violet never went far. Beau told me she went away for college and ended up working right back here in this town.
The only thing he wouldn’t ever tell me was if she was seeing anyone. Told me it wasn’t his place, and he was right.
I drag a hand over the back of my neck, exhaling slowly. “I haven’t been…stalking you or anything,” I add, the corner of my mouth twitching without humor. “Before you go thinking I’ve been lurking in the bushes or something.”
That almost gets her.
Almost.
She spins around, her head tilting a fraction, like she’s debating whether she wants to be annoyed or just done with me entirely.
I shift my weight, boots scuffing against the floor. “Beau. I’d check in,” I admit. “Not…all the time. Just…”
When I couldn’t help it.
When the quiet got too loud.
When I caught myself wondering if she made it out the way she was supposed to.
My jaw tightens and I force myself to keep going. “I wanted to know you were okay. And I always knew you’d end up somewhere like this, with your hands on something broken, trying to put it back together. That’s just who you are.”
Her eyes catch fire with that same stubborn light that used to spark when we were fifteen and furious that the world wasn’t fair. That storm behind her green eyes tells me everything I need to know.
She’s looking at me like I’m a memory that showed up where it shouldn’t have.
“It’s been six years, Rowan.”
Six years, eight months, and eleven days, but who’s counting? Not me.
“Violet…” I take a step closer, the distance between us stretching wider the nearer I get. “I’m sorry.”
She exhales, a soft, shaky sound that hits me hard. Her shoulders tremble for just a second, then she forces herself still.
“Sorry?” she repeats. “I kept waiting for a letter. A call. A text. But nothing ever came.”
I open my mouth, ready to tell her I’m not the same kid who left without a word. That I’ve spent six years building a life I thought might make me worthy of standing in front of her again.
Then she turns, and whatever speech I had lined up dies in my throat.
Her eyes meet mine, and I’m expecting to see anger there…but no. It’s so much worse.
What I find looking back at me ispain. The hurt sits there, exposed, and for a second I see myself reflected in it.
She doesn’t let me sit with it for long, though. Her gaze drops away, and she shifts her focus to the dog. Her hand moves slowly over its matted fur. “Let’s just worry about getting this one fixed up right now.”
I nod, not sure what else to do. My eyes stay on her as she works, watching the way her hands move with such careful attention. She’s always been like this—tender, even with the things no one else wanted. I remember the strays that would follow her around town, the ones no one else bothered with, because they knew a soft touch when they saw one. They trustedher, and she’s still got that same magical ability to heal, to fix the things no one else could.
