Page 102 of Letters to Molly (Maysen Jar 2)

Cole laughed. “You were white as a sheet. I’m guessing there’s no interest in dating Ashley.”

“None.” My heart was already taken.

We got into his truck without much delay, then he turned it on and rolled down our windows. Fall in Montana was a short season, warm during the day and cool at night. Soon, we’d be dealing with snow and ice, but for now, there wasn’t a better way to travel through town than with the windows down.

This weather always made me long for the outdoors. I loved working in the field this time of year. Normally, I adjusted my schedule so I could be out with the crews, planting trees or laying sod. There was just something about working with the warm sun on my back, sweat dripping down my body, that made me feel at peace. Made me feel like I was where I needed to be.

“Damn, I want to get back to work.”

Cole chuckled. “Soon enough. What did the doctors say?”

“A week or two longer with the crutch and boot, then I can drive again. If PT keeps going well, I should be able to ease into work at the end of the month.”

Work would be dwindling by then, but anything was better than nothing.

“Nice. Are you still up for grabbing a beer?”

“Absolutely.”

Cole and I tried to meet up for beers once a month. In the fall, we spent our Saturdays watching Montana State football games together. Since he’d come into Poppy’s life, the two of us had become fast friends.

Besides Poppy, I considered him my best friend. He was so solid, so levelheaded. Whenever I needed advice, about a girlfriend or a problem at work, Cole was there.

Maybe if I’d known him when Molly and I were going through our divorce, he could have saved me from myself. He could have slapped some sense into me when I’d started pushing Molly away.

We drove downtown, searching for a rare parking spot. College kids were back in town and Bozeman was bustling. After a few laps around the block, we found a space and headed for our favorite bar. Cole and I settled into an outdoor seat and ordered, and the waitress brought over a local beer soon after.

“I miss beer.” I sighed after that first sip. “Molly only ever has wine.” She used to keep beer in the house. When I lived there.

“How’s it going with you two? I bet it’s not easy having to live with your ex-wife. Ready to kill each other yet?”

“No, actually, it’s going good. I, uh . . .” I took another drink, not sure exactly how to word this. “I’m going to try and win her back.”

Cole’s glass, which had been halfway to his mouth, froze in midair. “Win her back?”

“I love her. Always have. Always will.”

He set his glass down, studying me for a few long moments. As a detective for the Bozeman Police Department, his stare was always unnerving. It was like he could look right into my mind and pluck out my thoughts.

It was strange that Poppy hadn’t told him about our conversation and her advice to ruin my existing life. Maybe she didn’t think I’d go through with it. Maybe she didn’t believe I’d win.

Finally, after I’d begun to sweat under Cole’s scrutiny, he picked up his beer and took a healthy chug. “What’s your plan?”

The tension left my shoulders. “Take it slow. Try and forget about all the shit in the past and start fresh.” Which would be easier if those fucking letters would stop.

“Forget, huh? Don’t you think you guys need to hash that history out?”

I shook my head. “Nothing good is going to come from us digging up old skeletons. I mean, we kind of already have. Those letters have forced us to talk about some things we should have when we were married. But trust me, the other stuff is just better forgotten.”

I could get past Molly having a one-night stand during our separation if I just didn’t think about it. There was no reason to talk about it. No reason for us to both go through that time again and relive it.

Forgetting was better. And since she’d promised not to read any more letters, I didn’t have to worry about it coming up.

“Speaking of letters, did you guys ever figure out who was leaving them?” Cole asked.

“No damn clue. I’ve spent so much time thinking about who could have found them that I’m more confused than ever. Honestly, I still think it’s Poppy or my mom.”

“Poppy would never lie to you. That’s not her,” he said, leaping to his wife’s defense. “Do you really think your mom would either?”