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And that’s when I realize what was different with Molly. She wasn’t singing when I walked in.
Chapter 15
Flint
It’s not that I’ve been avoiding Molly, that wasn’t my intent at all.
The day I got the news, I immediately sat down with Bree. I doubt anyone would blame me for needing to discuss it with her.
That night, I ended up taking her to the emergency room. The damn, stubborn woman hadn’t been feeling well and her appendix nearly burst on her. Where would I have been if anything happened to her?
I called and left a voicemail for Molly, explaining the situation. When I didn’t hear back from her, I tried again when Bree was discharged. Over the next week, I played nursemaid—thankful when Joe was around to help out.
He was picking up odd jobs with where my brothers could fit him in; and, without even realizing what he was saying, he’s the one who filled me in on the buzz I was missing.
“Bree?” I gently call her name as I enter our room and she looks up from her tablet. “I need to head into town for a bit. Joe’s home if you need anything.”
“It’s about damn time,” Bree snorts, but she softens her words with a smile. “If she has any brownies, I would love one.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” I promise her, trying to feel her forehead as I give her a kiss. She swats my hand away, promising me that she’s fine.
I timed my visit to arrive shortly before the bakery’s closing time; Molly’s frowning when she looks up from the counter at the sound of my bike, but her face transforms with a smile when I remove my helmet.
One thing at a time, I think to myself.
“How’s Bree doing?” she asks the moment I open the door.
“She’s good. Scared about five years off of my life, but they caught it in time.” My eyes dart to the case and I realize that my plan of coming late in the day means that there aren’t many options left.
Molly’s wringing her hands together and looks puzzled when I move my gaze back to her. “Is there something special you wanted? I can whip it up, if you have time to stay for a bit?”
“Bree asked for a brownie, and I was hoping you’d have time to talk with me, but I don’t want to trouble you,” I tell her, almost smiling at how damn awkward this is.
“It’s not a problem at all. Why don’t you lock the door and pull up a chair?”
I turn, flipping her sign and locking up, only hesitating when my eyes land on those damn small chairs of hers.
“Molly, I gotta tell you,” I say, barely registering her sharp intake of breath when I put my fists on my hips. “I hate your chairs. They’re small and uncomfortable.”
“Oh,” she exhales, and I realize that my lead in startled her. “Yeah, they looked so cute in the catalog, but I’m kind of stuck with them now. Do you want to go upstairs and grab one of the chairs from my table?”
With a nod, I head upstairs to do exactly that. I’d been up here before, to assess the damage the day the blast blew out her windows, but I didn’t register how much she had done to the small living space. Even with her bed within six feet of the loveseat, she made it feel homey and relaxing—an ability I never realized was important until Bree moved into my house and with just a few, small purchases, made it a home.
Carefully carrying the chair downstairs, I place it where I can watch her work without being in her way.
“I wanted to give you this, before I forget,” she says, handing me the envelope of cash plus the rent check, that I didn’t get a chance to pick up the past few days.
I shake my head, holding my hands up. “The loan’s forgiven.”
“No, Flint,” she says, drawing her shoulders back, ready for battle. “I know it’s part of a longer conversation, but I’m not expecting a free ride because you accidently fathered me. I can, and will, continue to make payment. Besides, there’s rent to consider also.”
“We’re starting this conversation in the middle,” I tell her, running my hand through my hair. Smelling the chocolate that she’s melting, I point to it and wink at her. “That is, if you don’t mess up Bree’s brownies.”
She rescues that mixture and continues to measure different items, not saying anything. I watch her face as she works, and can see her carefully weighing her thoughts until she finally nods to herself. Setting the ingredients in the mixer, she finally turns back to me.
“I don’t want to sound like ‘Little Girl Lost’, but do you remember anything about my mom?”
“Molly, I’m going to start at the beginning, if you don’t mind,” I tell her, not just to dodge her question, but because I want her to know a bit more about me. “My dad, he was one of the three founders of the Northern Grizzlies. By the time I came along, one of them, Splinter, had moved out to Oregon and started a chapter there. Eventually, the other one, Jigsaw, he was the youngest of the three, eventually moved out to Virgina and started his chapter. There are a few others here and there, but that’s not really relevant.
