A SECOND CHANCE AT FOREVER Chapter 27: CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

ASHLEY

One out of the two events we had planned for today was going swinging at a park. It wasn’t my idea, of course. That kind of sentimentality had Violet written all over it. She’d called it our “us together” day, which sounded dramatic, but then again—so was she.

Three days. That’s all I had left before heading to Germany.

Violet had been annoyingly chipper about it, acting like it was just another casual Saturday plan, not a countdown to goodbye. She’d even managed to convince me to leave my half-packed suitcase behind, dragging me out of my apartment with promises of “just one more adventure.” Nina, her daughter, wasn’t with us today—Ryan had her. Her emphasis on just us was laid down well.

The park was quieter than I expected for a late afternoon. The sky was smeared with soft hues of orange and pink, the sun lazily sinking into the horizon. The crisp autumn breeze carried that distinct smell of fallen leaves and distant bonfires, and for a second, it felt like time had slowed down just for us.

“Come on, slowpoke!” Violet called over her shoulder, her boots crunching over the scattered leaves as she half-jogged toward the old swing set near the edge of the park.

I rolled my eyes but followed, shoving my hands deep into my coat pockets to fend off the chill. The metal swings were rusted at the chains, creaking softly as the wind nudged them back and forth. It looked exactly like the kind of place you’d pass without a second glance, but Violet’s face was lit up like we’d stumbled upon the gates of Disneyland.

She plopped onto one of the swings, gripping the chains and kicking her legs to gain momentum. “Last one to the clouds buys the first round tonight!” she shouted, already soaring higher.

I hesitated But then Violet threw her head back, laughter spilling out like it was the easiest thing in the world, and I felt the corners of my mouth twitch.

Screw it.

I dropped onto the swing beside her, the cold metal seeping through my jeans. I gave myself a push, legs out, then tucked them back in, finding the rhythm buried somewhere in muscle memory. .

For a while, we didn’t talk. We just swung higher and higher, competing without needing to say it out loud.

Eventually, gravity won, and we let the swings slow, the creaking chains settling into soft sighs. Violet leaned back, letting her feet drag against the ground, kicking up little clouds of dust.

“I’m gonna miss this,” she said quietly.

I stared ahead, watching the horizon bleed into darker shades. “The park?”

She snorted. “No, dumbass. Us.”

My throat tightened, but I forced a smile, tilting my head toward her. “We’ll still be us. I’m just an international version now.”

She rolled her eyes, but her grin was soft. “Yeah, well, we are back to being long distance”

I laughed, the sound carrying into the open air. “Guess you’ll have to come visit, then.”

“Damn right I will. Germany’s not ready for me.”

We spent the next hour wandering around the park, stopping at the jungle gym, climbing like we were ten again, laughing too loud, and pretending like nothing mattered. Violet dared me to race her across the empty soccer field, and of course, I won—though she still claimed I cheated.

The sky grew darker, shades of deep purple and navy creeping in as the city lights flickered on, one by one.

Violet said, brushing the dirt from her jeans.

“Alright. Time for our final task.”

***

The bar we chose was small and tucked away on a quiet street, its dim lighting casting a warm, amber glow over the scratched wooden tables and dusty shelves lined with old liquor bottles.

Violet flagged down the bartender.  “Two whiskeys,” she said, not bothering to glance at the menu. “Neat.”

The bartender nodded, disappearing behind the bar while we settled into the silence, the low hum of conversation and the soft clinking of glasses filling the space around us.

When the drinks arrived, served in short, heavy glasses with the whiskey glinting like molten gold under the dim lights, Violet picked hers up, studying the way the liquid caught the light. She tilted her glass toward me with a small smile.

“To… whatever comes next,” she said softly.

I huffed a laugh, clinking my glass against hers. “Yeah. To that.”

The first sip burned, hot and sharp, sliding down my throat.

For a while, we just sipped in silence, letting the whiskey loosen the knots in our chests.

Violet broke first.

“Do you remember that time in early high school days  when we tried to bake a cake for your birthday, and we forgot the sugar?” she asked, her grin spreading lazily across her face.

I snorted. “Forgot the sugar? Violet, we forgot everything. It was basically a loaf of sadness.”

She laughed, that full-belly laugh that always made me feel lighter, even when nothing else could. “We still ate it, though.”

“Of course we did. We were broke and stubborn. Well,I just remembered something crazier now”

I said, wiping at my eyes as the laughter died down.

Violet’s grin turned into a curious smirk. She narrowed her eyes at me, leaning in. “Spill.”

I swirled the whiskey in my glass, the amber liquid catching the dim bar lights. “You and Ryan—you went through a lot together in high school.”

Violet chuckled softly, her eyes tingling with distant memories. “The hardest part of it all was Evelyn.”

The name made my blood simmer, the warmth from the whiskey shifting into something sharper. “That bitch. Always clinging to Ryan like a leech. I’ve always hated her, even before you and Ryan had a thing. But too bad—we never heard of her again.”

Violet shook her head with a smile but just then, her phone buzzed against the table, cutting through the ease of our conversation. She glanced at the screen, and without needing to see the name, I already knew who it was.

Ryan.

Of course. I was actually surprised he’d let her out for an entire day without coming to drag her back home himself.

Violet answered, her voice soft but tinged with concern. “Oh, I’ll be there soon.” She hung up and when she looked back at me, her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Oh no, you can leave. I get it,” I said, waving a dismissive hand, trying to keep my voice light. “I’m surprised he held on for this long.”

Violet shook her head quickly. “No, it’s actually not Ryan. It’s Nina. She’s been crying, and Ryan can’t console her anymore.”

Oh. Right.

I nodded, the ache sneaking in before I could stop it. “You should go then. We’ll see each other one more time before I leave, yeah?”

“Of course.” She stood, her chair scraping softly against the worn wooden floor.

“I’ll be finishing these drinks. Don’t worry,” I joked, lifting my glass slightly.

Violet smiled, leaning down to squeeze my shoulder briefly, her touch lingering just a second longer than casual before she turned and disappeared through the bar’s creaky door.

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, reaching for my glass to drown the sudden emptiness settling in. But before I could take another sip—

“Care if I join?”

That voice. Deep, smooth, with just enough edge to stir something sharp in my chest. A voice I could recognize anywhere, even in a crowded room.

I looked up slowly, my heart sinking before my eyes confirmed it.

Kyle.

What the actual fuck?

He stood there like he belonged, casual as ever—hands tucked into the pockets of his dark jeans, his jacket slung lazily over one shoulder. His eyes, that same piercing grey locked onto mine with a familiarity that made me feel both exposed and infuriated.

I forced a tight smile, masking the irritation creeping up my spine. “Hi, Kyle. What are you doing here?”

“Came to grab a drink, which is a normal thing to do in a bar,” he replied

I took a slow sip of my whiskey, letting the burn ground me.

“So,” he continued.  “You planned on leaving without a goodbye?”

That made me pause, my glass hovering mid-air. My eyes snapped to his, sharp and searching.

How the hell did he know?

I’d been careful, kept it hidden—especially from him. Violet wouldn’t have told him. She knew better.

Before I could form a response, my phone buzzed against the table. Grateful for the distraction, I snatched it up without checking the caller ID.

“Hello?” I answered, my voice sharper than intended.

“May I speak with Ms. Ashley Carrington, please?” an unfamiliar female voice asked, formal and distant.

“Speaking” I straightened slightly, my fingers tightening around the phone.

“Ms. Carrington, I’m calling from St. Hospital. It’s about Rose Carrington.” Her tone softened, a warning wrapped in gentleness. “I’m afraid I have some sad news.”

The world seemed to tilt, the edges of the room blurring.

No.

I knew what she was going to say before the words even left her mouth. I could hear it in the fragile pause that followed.

“I’m sorry to tell you that Mrs. Carrington passed away this afternoon…”

The rest of her words faded into a distant, hollow echo, drowned by the sudden roar in my ears.

Rose Carrington.

My mother.

Dead