Page 81 of Against All Odds

That’s what I wish I could tell Mom. One more day would only make her wish for one more.

Years ago, when Violet left without a word, I remember yelling about all the things I’d say to her about love and the lies she told.

Then I was just sad, because it felt like I’d lost everything.

When she walked through the door of Prose & Perk a couple of months ago, all of that came back. The emotions, the desire,the love, the anger at how it went, but the biggest part of me felt—hope.

I never stopped loving her.

I sit on my back step, not ready to face her yet.

I don’t want one more day. I don’t want one more week. I want all the damn days. I want her, this baby, a home, a family, all of it is what I want.

Yes, things are a mess, but what in life worth having isn’t a little messy?

One more day will never suffice.

I’m going to be there for her, show her that when you love someone, you fight. She and I can figure this out because I can’t survive her leaving me again.

I was a fucking liar to think that we wouldn’t have any promises or that I didn’t want more.

That’s been my downfall with her since we were kids—there is never enough.

My phone rings and it’s the emergency vet line.

“Dr. Finnegan,” I answer.

“Hello, Doctor F, it’s Courtney. I got a call from the Jones farm. They’d like to know if you can come today to check on a few cows?”

I really needed today off to process this and talk to Violet about her plans and make her see that sometimes not having one can lead to more than we dreamed. As much as I want to say no, I won’t. I never do. If they’re calling the after-hours line, it’s something they feel strongly about.

“Is it urgent?”

“Not emergent, but, yes, urgent.”

“All right, I’ll head there as soon as I can.”

Then I need to figure out how to tell Violet that we’re going to do this together, because I won’t lose her again.

twenty

Violet

Iopen my eyes, stretching my arms and glancing around, noticing that I am not in my house.

Shit.

I’m on Everett’s couch. I must’ve passed out last night. I remember us talking, me lying on his chest and feeling so content and ... tired.

He held me, letting me have all the emotions I wanted.

I cried, I laughed, I worried, all without needing to explain anything. He just let me feel whatever I felt.

I sit up, causing the blanket to fall to the ground. I rub my eyes and yawn.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” his deep voice says from the entry of the kitchen.

“Hi,” I say on a breath. “I’m sorry I fell asleep. I don’t even remember when that happened.”

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