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"Jake, man, listen to me," I start, my voice gravelly with urgency. "I love your sister. More than anything."
The words hang heavy in the air, an anchor thrown in the midst of a tempest. Jake's eyes, twin infernos of betrayal and fury, bore into mine. But it's the truth, raw and bare, like a nerve exposed.
"Love her?" His laughter is sharp, bitter. "You have a hell of a way of showing it, Tanner!"
"Please." It's a plea, straight from the gut. "I can't imagine life without Molly. I never meant to hurt you or betray your trust."
"Tanner," Molly whispers from behind me, her voice quivering like a plucked string. I can feel her hand trembling against my back, unsure whether to push or pull.
"Just go," she commands, louder now. The two words hit like a punch to the chest. Her face is a storm of emotions—embarrassment, pain, love—all swirling together until they're indistinguishable.
"Baby, don't—" I try, but she cuts me off with a look that breaks my heart.
"Go, Tanner. Now." There's steel in her voice, a resolve that makes my heart hammer against my ribs.
I shake my head. “No, I’m not going anywhere without you. We’re in this together, remeber?” There’s no way I’m leaving her to face her brother’s wrath alone. Not that I think Jake would hurt her. Just that’s not in me. I don’t run.
Her eyes plead with me, big and brimming, but I won’t be swayed.
I square my shoulders and turn to face Jake.
Christ, his fists are bunched so tight they're shaking. The veins on his neck stand out like cords, his face red as a stop sign. Jake, my best friend, looks ready to tear me apart with his bare hands.
"You think you can just waltz in here, mess around with my sister, and what? Just walk away?"
My heart's pounding, adrenaline sparking through me. Old instincts kick in, ones I thought I'd buried when I left the Navy. But I don't want to fight him. Not Jake.
"Damn it, Jake!" I shout, trying to break through to him. "I love her!"
He doesn't budge, doesn't blink, just stands there, coiled and ready. And that's when I know what I have to do. Before I can second-guess myself, I drop to one knee.
"Jake," I start again, my voice rough around the edges, "Molly, I'm not leaving here without making one thing clear."
My hand reaches into my pocket, fingers closing around the tiny velvet box I've been carrying for weeks. My heart's doing double time, but when I look up at Molly, everything else fades out. She's my beacon, my true north.
"Molly," I say, loud enough to cut through the tension, "will you marry me?"
Silence crashes down like an avalanche. Even Jake's breath catches, the sound loud in the sudden stillness. There's no script for moments like this, no playbook or SOP to follow. Just raw, unscripted life, hanging on the edge of a single question.
Molly's face is a picture I can't quite read. It's like she's flipped through every emotion in the book and landed on a page that's blank. Her lips part, but no sound comes out. She's still wrapped in a sheet just staring at me, those big brown eyes wide as saucers.
"Tanner," she finally breathes, her voice so faint it could be mistaken for the breeze. "What are you doing?"
I stay there, on one knee, my heart hammering against my ribs like it's trying to escape. I've seen combat, stared down the barrel of a gun with less fear than I feel right now. But this, right here with Molly, is the bravest thing I've ever done.
"Making the biggest bet of my life," I say, hoping my grin doesn't look as shaky as it feels. "C'mon, Mol. Roll the dice with me."
Jake's still standing there, his hands slowly uncurling from fists to slack-jawed disbelief. His gaze cuts between us like he's watching a tennis match from hell. "Are you out of your freaking mind?" he explodes, almost a whisper, almost a shout.
"Quite possibly," I admit, my focus never leaving Molly's face. I need her to see how much I mean this, how much she means to me. "But I'm crazy about your sister, man."
"Jesus, Tanner..." Jake rakes a hand through his hair, looking like he wishes it were my neck instead. His eyes narrow, flickering with something dark and stormy. Protective instincts are battling it out with whatever soft spot he has for seeing Molly happy.
"Jake, please—" Molly starts, her voice quivering with a cocktail of hope and anxiety.
"Shut up, Mol," Jake snaps, but there's no bite to it. He's torn, I can tell. Love does that to you. Splits you right down the middle and makes you question which half is right.
"Look, I know this is... unconventional," I push on, the ring burning a hole in my palm. "And I get why you're pissed. But she's it for me, Jake."
