Page 102 of Loving Violet
I turn in his arms and sob against his chest. His warmth and strength ground me, and I feel relief wash over me. Austin’s hand strokes my hair, his touch soothing and comforting.
“I was so scared, Austin,” I manage to say between sobs. “I thought I’d never see you or Adrian again.”
“I know,” he whispers. “But you’re safe now. We’re all here for you.”
“I don’t know what I would have done without you,” I admit again.
“You’re stronger than you think, Violet. You’ve been through so much, and you’re still standing. I’m in awe of you,” Austin says, his voice full of admiration.
I take a deep breath, feeling the weight of his words. Slowly, my sobs subside, and I cling to him, feeling a sense of peace.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
“For what?” he asks, his brow furrowing in confusion.
“For loving me. For being here. I will never get tired of thanking you,” I reply, looking up at him.
He smiles softly and leans down to kiss my forehead. “Always,” he says.
We sit there for a while, holding each other, the storm of emotions gradually calming. I know it will take time to heal.
Chapter 34
Austin
A month later,Violet’s still healing.
It’s been a rough road, no sugarcoating that. She’s had memory lapses, moments of confusion, and mood swings that hit like summer storms—sudden and intense. I’ve been with her every step of the way, doing whatever I can to make things easier. But watching the woman I love wrestle with emotions that seem to come out of nowhere? That’s been the hardest part.
Some days start out fine. She’ll smile, maybe even laugh, and for a while, it feels like we’re back to normal. Then, out of the blue, she’s upset or on the verge of tears. It breaks my heart to see her struggle with something as simple as trying to remember where she put her phone or forgetting a conversation we had the day before.
We saw a neurologist to make sure everything was okay, and the tests confirmed it’s all from the concussion. Post-concussion syndrome, they called it. Apparently, this kind of thing happens a lot—memory issues, mood swings, the whole nine yards. Hearing it explained was a relief in some ways. At least we know what we’re dealing with. But knowing doesn’t make the day-to-day any less challenging.
The doctor said time and patience are key. Symptoms like these can last a few months, or longer. There’s no guarantee when she’ll feel like herself again, and that’s tough to hear. Still, we’ve been doing our best to roll with it.
We’ve got our system now. There are sticky notes all over the house—reminders for everything from feeding the dog to her therapy appointments. We keep a journal, jotting down everything from her mood changes to little wins like remembering what we ate for dinner the night before. Therapy’s helping her work through the trauma, and I’m learning to spot the warning signs of a mood swing so I can help her through it or give her space when she needs it.
It’s not easy. Some days it feels like we’re climbing a mountain with no end in sight. But then there are the good moments, the ones that make it all worth it. Like when she recalls something we talked about the day before or when she tackles a frustrating situation without breaking down.
Those moments? They’re gold. They remind us that healing isn’t a linear, but we’re still moving forward.
And as I watch Violet pin a new sticky note to the fridge with a wry smile, I can’t help but feel hopeful. She’s strong, even when she doesn’t see it. We’ll get through this together.
Through everything, Violet and I have only gotten closer. We’ve figured out new ways to connect—how to really listen, how to be patient, and how to celebrate the good days when they come. It’s the little things that bring us comfort now: quiet evenings on the couch with Adrian, taking Max out for long walks to clear our heads, or just sitting together, holding hands without needing to say a word.
I’ve been staying over at her place most nights. Honestly, I’d move in tomorrow if I could, but I’m holding off until her house is done. I want it to feel like a fresh start for both of us, the beginning of something permanent.
I’ve also been thinking a lot about proposing. I can’t wait to make her my wife. Every detail of how I’ll do it has been running through my mind, I want it to be perfect, something she’ll always look back on with a smile, no matter how hard things have been.
Sometimes, when she doesn’t realize I’m watching her like when she’s laughing at something Adrian says or scribbling a note for herself with one of her million sticky pads, I just know. She’s it. She’s the person I want by my side forever.
Her strength amazes me, but so does her vulnerability. Loving her has shown me what it means to truly care for someone, and I feel so lucky to have her in my life. I’m not sure how I’ll pull off the proposal without her figuring it out ahead of time, she’s pretty good at reading me, but I’ll make it happen. And when I do, it’ll be one of the best days of my life.
It’s Thanksgiving week, and we’re on the road to Sweet Springs to spend the holiday with Violet’s family. She’s mentioned that she talks to her parents every week but avoids visiting because her mom has...opinions. Apparently, her mom likes to comment on everything from how Violet does things to how she’s raising Adrian. Fun times ahead.
I’m hoping my presence will act as a buffer. Worst case, her mom turns her attention to me. Best case? Same.
During the drive, Violet keeps messing with her dress, smoothing it out or adjusting the hem. Adrian’s in the back with Max sprawled across his lap, glued to his phone. Kid’s in his own world with his headphones on, so I take the opportunity to distract Violet.
