Chapter 34
34
Hudson
Dinner with my parents is a cherry on top for tonight’s killer win. I open the door to the restaurant where I’m meeting them. It’s a cozy Italian restaurant close to my house. The type of place that makes you feel at home, even when you’re not.
We haven’t had dinner together in ages. This is long overdue.
When I step inside, the scent of roasted garlic and fresh bread greets me. I scan the room for my family.
The place is packed and warm.
Almost too warm.
Soft candlelight bounces off the red-checkered tablecloths, and the faint hum of conversation blends with Sinatra playing in the background.
I don’t notice my family at first through the crowd, but then they come into focus.
Mom and Dad are looking at a menu, and Anna is scrolling on her phone. Surprise, surprise. At least she’s consistent. Anna and her phone are basically a package deal at this point.
I can’t help the stupid grin that eclipses my face.
Then I see her .
My lips thin.
Why is she here?
Molly. My little Hex.
The woman who has haunted my thoughts for years sits at the table, chatting animatedly with my mom. She laughs softly at something my dad says. Her entire demeanor is relaxed, so unlike when she’s with me.
I love her for this.
I hate her for this.
And, deep down, I know I’m screwed because she looks like she belongs here with them. With the people I care about most.
It’s as if we have a thread tethering us because Molly looks up and catches my eye. Our gazes tangle. It’s like a dance—almost. She doesn’t look away, and I don’t either. The space between us crackles with something unspoken, something I can’t name but feel all the same.
Her green eyes are cool and unreadable.
A million questions blur in my head.
What is she thinking?
Does she know the chaos she stirs just by being here?
Is she trying to figure me out the way I’m always trying to figure her out?
Is she as frustrated by this invisible thread between us as I am?
I force myself to walk, crossing the room to go sit with my family. Each step closer is a step closer to her orbit, where I’m sure I’ll get burned. Why the fuck can I not resist the pull?
When I arrive, I lean down and kiss my mom on the cheek.
“Hey, guys.” I pull back and look toward Molly. “Molly?”
“Oh, Molly helped us so much at the game,” my mom gushes, smiling up at me. “She showed us to our seats, got us food, and even helped us find the car. Isn’t that sweet?”
“Very.” I slowly slide into the empty seat across from Molly, staring at her as I do.
Did she know who they were when she did?
It’s as clear as day that my mom adores her. At this rate, she’ll be in the family Christmas photo by next week.
What the hell did I miss during this game?
I look back at Molly, still wondering how this all happened. It’s as surprising as me winning an award for punctuality.
She meets my stare, never flinching, and smiles brightly. “Your parents are amazing. I see where you get it.”
I hesitate, half expecting her to follow it up with a dig. Instead, she just keeps smiling at me like she means it. Weird.
Finally, I bite. “Get what?”
Molly blinks innocently at me. “Your personality and kindness.”
Oh-kay.
Not what I expected.
Am I hallucinating? Did someone replace Molly with her nicer, less terrifying twin?
My mom lets out a little sigh of what can only be described as pure happiness. It’s over. I’m fucked. Mom might adopt Molly on the spot. Then I’ll hit the news headlines with a new scandal. The hockey player who screwed his sister.
Molly reaches across the table and squeezes Mom’s hand. Mom hasn’t paid a lick of attention to either Dad or Anna. She must’ve had a hard time choosing her seat—sit next to Molly and bask in her “greatness” up close or sit across from Molly and see her in all her glory.
Molly merely tilts her head, all innocence.
What is this girl up to?
I narrow my eyes slightly, doubt settling.
“Um. Are we talking about Hudson?” Anna chimes in.
Great, now I have both of them ganging up on me. It’s two against one, and I’m a goalie without pads. Fantastic.
“Yup.” Molly casts a glance my way. “Hudson.”
I don’t understand what’s happening. Anna gave Molly a way to attack me, but she didn’t. No one here knows about the bet. It would be the perfect moment for her to take me down without her brother or anyone on the team ever knowing.
I’m waiting for the punchline, but it’s not coming. This is uncharted territory.
It’s unsettling. Like catching Coach Robert smile.
Lost in my thoughts, I only pick up bits and pieces of the conversation taking place. From what I do manage to hear, Molly is basically making me sound like the next Gretzky. I feel like a deer staring down a hunter. Any second now, she’ll pull the trigger.
My dad beams at her words. “We’re so proud of him. He’s worked so hard to get here.”
“Absolutely,” Molly agrees, smiling warmly.
She’s never nice to me. Never. Is this reverse psychology? Am I supposed to insult her back?
It feels like I’m in a fever dream. Like I’ve wandered into an alternate reality where Molly Sinclair is my biggest fan. Or maybe I’m on a hidden camera show where everyone’s in on the joke except me.
The whole meal is a blur. She spends appetizers raving about my playing style, the main course ranting about how the Saints need to bump up my salary ASAP, and dessert bellowing about the media’s antics.
If this is Molly’s way of catching me off guard, it’s working.
I’m officially off-balance.
It can’t possibly be real, but when my parents get up to leave, I hang back, needing to know why. Why she’s doing this. Why the Molly I know—the one who could slice me in two with her words—has suddenly turned into my biggest cheerleader.
As soon as my family is out of earshot, I block her path to the exit, my voice low. “All right, Hex. What’s your game here?”
Molly tilts her head, her smile softening into something I can’t quite read. “Maybe I just wanted to be nice for a change.”
I snort. “You? Nice? Forgive me if I’m not buying it.”
Her smile doesn’t falter, but her eyes narrow just a fraction. “Maybe you should try it sometime. Being nice might actually suit you.”
And there it is.
A spark of the Molly I know. The Molly who doesn’t just push my buttons but installs new ones just to press them.
I sit back, crossing my arms. “If this is you being nice, I think I liked you better when you were mean.”
I don’t mean it, though. I’m just . . . uncomfortable. Like I’m stuck in limbo, unsure how to process the past ninety minutes. I feel like I’ve missed some pivotal moment when Molly decided she doesn’t actually hate me.
And if I’m really being honest, I want to know how—so I can do it again. Over and over.
You are so fucked, Wilde.
“Duly noted,” Molly says, securing her bag over her shoulder. “Next time, I’ll let your mom know all about how you chewed out that poor referee last week.”
“Wait—what?” I start, but she’s already halfway out the door, leaving me sitting there, stunned and—dammit—grinning like an idiot.
Because, for all her jabs, I can’t help but like that she keeps me guessing.
Molly takes the long way, weaving through crowds because she’s too short to notice the exit on the other end. I take that door and round to the front, where I wait for her to make her way outside the place, my back against the brick wall.
When she finally bursts through the door, she spots me, and a scowl immediately forms on her lips.
I move to stand in front of her. “Seriously, Hex. What was that?”
Molly arches an eyebrow. “What was what?”
The woman doesn’t even realize what she’s done to me. That I’m practically glitching inside, trying to figure out her endgame.
Maybe this is her latest tactic—kill me with kindness and watch me squirm.
“You. Being nice. Praising me like I’m some kind of saint.” I throw my hands up, frustrated. “What’s your angle?”
Molly takes a deep breath. She opens her mouth, closes it, and then shakes her head, starting up again. “You wouldn’t understand.”
I don’t budge. “Try me.”
She looks down. “I always wanted parents like yours. I just wanted to be part of a family for a minute.”
It feels like a slap in the face. I’m stunned. Taken completely off guard. For once, I can’t think of a single thing to say. She’s knocked the wind out of me.
“They’re so proud of you.” Her gaze drifts down to her hands. To where’s she’s twisting her fingers together. “So supportive.”
I stare at her, her soft words doing something unfamiliar to me. “They’re my parents,” I say like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “That’s their job.”
Her laugh is soft and bitter. “Not everyone’s parents got that memo.”
The words are quiet, but they pack a punch.
I fumble for something to say, anything to fill the silence stretching between us. “Molly, I—”
“Don’t.” She finally lifts her gaze to mine. Her eyes are hard, guarded. “Don’t say something you think I want to hear. I’m not looking for pity.”
“It’s not pity,” I say quickly. Too quickly.
I don’t know much about how she or Dane grew up, but it’s obvious now that something happened. Sure, I knew she didn’t have parents, and her brother raised her, but something about her words suggests there’s more to it.
She raises an eyebrow, her mouth pulling into a humorless smile. “Of course it isn’t.”
The air between us feels heavy. Suffocating. My chest tightens at her words, the casual cruelty she’s wielding against herself.
“You don’t have to talk about it,” I say softly, stepping closer.
“No, I don’t,” she agrees, her voice sharper now. “But maybe I wanted to, just this once, sit at a table with people who don’t look at me like I’m broken. Who don’t expect me to be the strong one all the damn time.”
I blink, the vulnerability in her words cutting deeper than any insult she’s ever thrown my way. “Molly . . .”
“Forget it.” She shakes her head. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”
She moves to step around me, but I reach out, my hand lightly brushing her arm.
“Hey.” My voice is firm but gentle. “You don’t have to forget it. You don’t have to do any of this alone.”
Just talk to me , I want to scream. Tell me.
It’s a stupid thought. One I have no business thinking. We don’t even like each other. Not really . . . right?
Her eyes flick to my hand and back to my face.
Something soft crosses her expression, but then it’s gone, replaced by the familiar steel I know so well. “I’ve been doing it alone for years. I’m fine.”
“Yeah, you are. But that doesn’t mean you have to be.”
She pulls away, taking a step back and crossing her arms over her chest. “Why do you even care, Hudson?”
The question catches me off guard. I don’t have an answer.
Finally, I say, “Because you’re not as unbreakable as you think you are.”
Her jaw tightens, and I think she’s going to throw another verbal dagger at me. Instead, she just shakes her head, muttering something under her breath before walking away.
I let her go, my hands clenching at my sides as I watch her retreating form.
She stops just shy of the parking lot, twisting to face me. “Hudson?”
“Yeah?”
“It’s beautiful, Hudson. How much your parents love you. How proud they are of you.” Molly closes her eyes, sucking in a breath. “I could see it on their faces every time they talked about you.”
Stop talking.
Keep talking.
But the more she talks, the more the guilt needles into me. My parents deserve so much more than they accept. And Molly. She deserves all the love I’ve ever felt, too.
“Your parents are everything I ever wished for growing up.” Molly glances down. She looks up at me then, her expression unreadable. “I couldn’t take that away from you.”
There are people around us close enough to hear and a big enough gap that we have to raise our voices to be heard. Anyone could eavesdrop. But neither of us cares. We’re too caught up in each other. This moment when, somehow, we became the only people who understand each other.
I close my eyes, unsure what to say, and settle for a simple, “They’re the best.”
It’s the truth.
The beautiful, tragic truth.
Silence stretches between us, but it isn’t uncomfortable. It’s . . . different. Like we’re standing on the precipice of something big. Something neither of us fully understands but doesn’t want to walk away from.
“I mean it. I’ve always wanted parents like yours.” A wistful smile graces her lips. “I just wanted to be part of a family for a minute.”
Her words hang in the air, raw and unguarded.
She’s breaking my fucking heart.
A sudden laugh bubbles out of her, and she shakes her head. “I have no idea how this got so serious. Thank you for the dinner, Hudson. I enjoyed it.”
“Thanks for tonight.” I clear my throat. “It means a lot.”
For all the tension in that conversation, I know one thing for certain: Molly Sinclair is a storm, and I’m already caught in her path.
And that truce?
It feels real.