Page 106 of Letters to Molly (Maysen Jar 2)

“What?” She was off me in a flash, her eyes scanning me from head to toe. “What happened?”

“Nothing.” I waved her back into my arms, but she was already gone.

She stood, wiping the loose tendrils of her hair out of her face, then she ran a hand over her mouth.

So close. I hung my head, taking a few breaths to get my dick under control. I silently cursed the boot.

“I think you need to go home.”

“What?” My eyes whipped up to Molly. Home? I was home. “What do you mean?”

“I think you need to go home. It’s too confusing.” Her arms were closed around herself. She took another step away.

I used my good side to stand, careful to avoid too much weight on my bad leg. “There’s nothing confusing about this, Molly. I’m here. I want to be here. And not just until I can drive or until I’m completely mobile. I want to be here. With you.”

Her mouth fell open a bit, her lower lip still puffy from our kiss.

I took her momentary shock and shuffled closer. “What if we took this slow? I’ll court you. You can remind me of all those old-fashioned rituals you love so much.”

“Finn—”

“Think about it. Don’t answer now. I’m going to go inside and take a shower. A cold shower. Then we can have dinner together when the kids get home. We can watch a movie and if you want, you can hold my hand. Then tomorrow, we’ll do it again. Until the day you realize I’m here. I want to be here. With you.”

Molly studied my face, her eyes narrowing like she didn’t believe a word I said. “There’s so much history.”

“Then we forget it. Erase it completely. We start with a blank slate.”

“Forget it?” A flash of irritation crossed her face. “I can’t forget. I won’t forget.”

Before I could grapple with what I’d said to piss her off so quickly, she stormed past me and into the garage.

I took a step to chase her, but the fucking boot slowed me down. So I hopped over to my crutch. Then I chased.

When I found her, she’d shut herself into her bedroom. I listened at the door and heard the water running in the shower.

“Well, shit.”

What did I say? Why wouldn’t she want to forget about the pain we’d caused one another?

I tested the knob. It was unlocked, so I opened the door a crack, peeking inside to make sure she wasn’t in the bedroom. She wasn’t. I let myself inside and walked to the bathroom door.

I left that one shut, resting my forehead on its face. I spoke to the wood, hoping she could hear me over the running water.

“What did I say, Molly?”

Footsteps stomped my way. The water turned off one second before the bathroom door flew open.

“I don’t want to forget,” she snapped. “I don’t want to forget all the times you said you loved me. Or how it felt to be a family. I don’t want to forget the times we laughed together. Or the times you made love to me. Those memories, they’ve kept me going for six years. Six. Years. I don’t want to forget them. Not when I’ve cherished them.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Whatever.” Molly tried to shove past me, but I caught her by the elbow.

“That’s not what I meant,” I repeated. “I’ll never forget the way you used to steal pencils from my backpack because you kept giving yours to the kid in Econ who never had one. I’ll never forget the way you smiled at me when you were in labor with Max, even though you were in so much pain, because you wanted me to stop worrying. I’ll never forget the way you used to whisper you loved me right before you fell asleep. I don’t want to forget those times. I want to forget the bad times. The fights. The divorce. The—”

“Other guy?”

My entire body jerked. Pain seared down my spine at the reminder.