Page 60 of Made for Mayhem

The hinges creaked, and the faint scent of sawdust hit me first.

The front room was… not what I remembered.

Paint cans sat stacked in the corner, lids splattered with evidence of good intentions and bad follow-through. One wall was missing drywall, exposing a mess of wires I was ninety percent sure wasn’t supposed to look like that. Studs framed the space like the skeleton of my childhood memories, and it was obvious Violet had been in the middle of making this place something bigger.

Something hers.

The living room hovered between construction zone and cozy nest. Maggie’s soft, overstuffed couch was draped with a blanket that matched nothing except Violet’s chaos, sitting in front of an old TV. Fun throw pillows in every color imaginable were shoved into the corners.

On the coffee table sat the cheap CD player Maggie had given me for my twelfth birthday.

And on top of it—a letter, with a daisy drawn in thick black marker.

My throat tightened the instant I saw it.

Even in this half-finished house with its exposed bones, Violet was everywhere. In the colors. The mess. The stubborn joy bleeding out of every corner.

My chest constricted, sharp and hot. For a second, I just stood there in the middle of the room, surrounded by studs and sawdust, fighting back the wave that threatened to pull me under.

“Damn it, Vi,” I whispered, not sure what else to say.

I crossed the room slowly, every creak of the old wood floor under my sneakers loud in the quiet, and stopped in front of the coffee table. With a deep breath, I sank to the floor and opened the letter.

Well, shit.

A laugh stuttered out of me, tears gathering in my eyes at the first words on the page. I could hear it in Violet’s voice, as if she was sitting right there on the couch after a long day.

Messed this one up, didn’t I?

I keep thinking there’s a better way to start this, something softer or smarter, but you know me—I was never great at pretending things weren’t what they were. And you’ve always been able to hear the truth in my voice anyway, even when I tried to hide it.

You’ve always been my sunshine girl. No matter how awful life got, you were the one who believed tomorrow would be better. That there was a silver lining somewhere if we just kept moving. You were so sure we were almost out of the dark, even when we were standing knee-deep in it.

And I couldn’t be the one to drag you back there again.

By the time I understood how bad the cancer was, there was nothing left to do. No plan. No miracle. Just time running out. I made a choice—a selfish one—and I didn’t tell you.

I told myself I was protecting you. That I was being your big sister one last time, because that’s what I’ve always tried to do, whether I was any good at it or not. I couldn’t stand the thought of being your Third. First Mom. Then Maggie. And if you’re reading this, now me, too.

I couldn’t watch that happen to you again.

So I stayed quiet. I carried it by myself. And I’m sorry, Dais. I know that an apology fixes nothing, but it’s still true.

I know what I’ve left behind. The house. The mess. Junie. None of it was supposed to land in your lap, and I hate that it did. But I also know how much my sweet girl loves you, and I trust you with her more than anyone in the world. That part was never a question for me.

You might have been surprised to see Ty’s name beside yours in the paperwork, but know that wasn’t an afterthought. I chose him carefully, and I need you to trust me on this.

I don’t want this to be what breaks you. I want it to be what roots you. What reminds you who you are when everything feels like it’s slipping sideways.

Even if you don’t believe that yet, I do.

If I know you (and I really, really do), you’re crying right now, and you hate crying. So here’s what we’re going to do.

Today is not a Sad Day.

Today, you get one more day to pretend that I’m just gone a little longer than expected. That you’re here to watch Junie until I get back. You get one more day to be stubborn and in denial, because honestly, that’s how you’ve survived everything else life has thrown at you.

Tomorrow can be heavy. Tomorrow can hurt like hell.