Page 48 of CurVy Forever

And I open it.

“When?”

I freeze in the jamb; his question is his acceptance. He wants me back; he cares when that is… I’ve learned to read between the lines with Donnie.

“I spoke to my lawyer last night after you all fell asleep,” I say. “Five months, he thinks, maybe, with parole. I can be back in five months if I take the stand and tell the truth.”

I wait for him to ask me what the truth is. If I did it. If I took her, hurt her… What did I do this time… But he doesn’t. He defended me to save our name… Did he ever question my innocence? Or care about my motivations?

I don’t know.

He simply hums to the window. “We’ll be here when you do.”

And that’s us…

Not fixed.

But not broken.

EPILOGUE

TYLER

Five months later

I’m so clear today.

There is music in my soul and an ethereal energy that I can’t flick from my fingers. I don’t want to. Not since they started tickling the ivories again, not when the world is so fucking filled with my orange and red ribbons.

Exiting the car last, I jog through the parking lot to catch up with Vallie and Donnie, who are hand in hand. And Molly, who walks four beats at a time, then pauses.

Four beats.

Then she pauses.

I don’t know why she’s doing it, but her gait is in a perfect 4/4 timing ‘cause she’s going to be a pop star.

“We’re running late, Tyler Baby,” Molly teases, still keeping her perfect rhythm.

“Molly, sweet pea, don’t call Tyler that,” Vallie says, stroking the top of her golden locks and smiling brightly at me over the top of her crown.

Her smile, all my favourite sounds combined.

I’m twitching to get my baby inside her, doesn’t seem fair they made me wait until Dexter’s release. Like, he needs to have a fair chance at getting her pregnant? What’s fair in love and war? Nothing.

But I get it.

Soon enough, I’ll have her stomach swollen. She had her new implant taken out three days ago, and Quinn is babysitting Molly tomorrow night.

Time to chase her through the forest.

“What if he doesn’t like me when he gets to know me?” Molly asks without emotion, and I freeze, unable to process that question.

Donnie stops in his tracks, looking at her. “What’s not to like about you, Princess?”

“You’re already his favourite person,” Vallie adds. “He has seen all your drawings. You know, the ones we put on the wall? Remember, you asked why there were gaps? So, we filled them with your art. And you know how Donnie is always recording you? Well, that’s because Dexter watches every clip. He likes the ones when you’re on the drums. He knows you already so you have nothing to worry about. You just be you.”

I shake my head and put my hands on either side of her shoulders, squatting to stare at the little girl who started all of this. “Molly, this is all about you. Vallie and Donnie. My music, and you. Dexter and his sobriety. All of us together. A family. A weird one. Sure. But a loving one. This is all about you and your dirty socks and your bubbles.”