Page 31 of Letters to Molly (Maysen Jar 2)

“Those first few months are a blur.” She folded her hands in her lap, looking down. “But I know how bad it was. I know the stress it put on Finn to watch out for me. And you.”

“But that was years before we started having trouble.”

She shrugged.

“Poppy, look at me,” I ordered, waiting for her blue eyes to find mine. “You are not the reason we divorced. We fell apart because we forgot to watch out for one another. Not because we were watching out for you.”

“Promise?”

I stole her gesture and crossed my heart. “On my life.”

A tear dripped down her cheek and she brushed it away, then forced a smile. “Sorry. That got really heavy. But I’ve been thinking about it because—”

“It’s May.”

“Yeah.” She nodded. “Cole knows it’s been on my mind. He told me to ask you because you’d be honest. I love my brother, but I don’t think he’d tell me the truth. He still thinks he has to protect my feelings.”

Finn had always looked out for his younger sister, even before Jamie had died. But she was right. If Finn thought Jamie’s death had impacted our marriage in any way, he’d never tell Poppy. “He loves you.”

“I love him too.” She stood up and took her salad jar to the industrial dishwasher, spraying it out and putting it in the rack.

I followed, doing the same with mine while she plucked her special apron off its hook and tied it around her waist.

“I’m going to work the counter for a while,” I said, “roll some silverware for the dinner rush. Do you need anything?”

“No. I’m going to make a batch of banana bread. We went through a lot of those this morning.”

Banana bread in a jar, sprinkled with chocolate chips. Behind her daily quiche, it was our number-one breakfast seller. It never ceased to amaze me the things Poppy came up with to make in a jar.

“Okay. Holler if you need me.”

“Molly?” She stopped me before I pushed through the swinging door. “Love you.”

I smiled. “Love you too.”

I didn’t care what she said. I didn’t need new friends.

Not when I had her.

“What’s Dad’s truck doing here?” Max asked as we pulled into the cul-de-sac.

“Uh, I’m not sure.”

I’d left the restaurant at four thirty to pick up the kids from their after-school program. Then we’d stopped by the grocery store to pick up a few items to make BLTs for dinner—it was Kali’s choice tonight.

In all the hours since he’d left the restaurant this morning, I hadn’t heard from him. So why was he back at my house?

I parked the Jeep in the garage, and the kids barreled out before I even shut it off. I hurried to catch up and was just stepping into the front yard when Finn rounded the far side of the house pushing a wheelbarrow and wearing different clothes than he’d had on at the restaurant this morning.

The front of his white T-shirt was streaked with dirt and his biceps strained against the hem of the short sleeves. His skin glistened with a light sheen of sweat.

He was wearing an old baseball cap, one I recognized from a decade ago. Its bright blue brim was frayed because whenever Finn took it off, he rolled it up and shoved it into the back pocket of work pants like the ones he was wearing now. They were tan except for the permanent smudges of dirt and grass on the knees and thighs.

I’d probably washed those pants a hundred times, but they seemed to fit Finn better with each wash. The curve of his perfect butt had imprinted on those pants. The canvas had been molded around his thick thighs.

A flush crept up my cheeks as I remembered all the times I’d stripped those pants from his body before joining him in the shower. A dull throb settled between my legs. I fought the urge to fan my face, taking a few deep breaths and chastising my traitorous body for such a reaction.

I mentally chastised Finn too. The sexy jerk. I’d gotten along quite well these last six years satisfying myself. At least I’d thought so. But then he’d reminded my body how it felt to have a decent orgasm.