Chapter 29 Chase #2
Molly slips out of the room and returns a few minutes later in pink polka-dot pajama pants and a faded flannel shirt.
“Okay, lights out,” she says, and neither of the kids protests. “Are you going to sleep in here, Lukey?”
“Yeah, he is,” Laurel answers as he nods.
“Okay, but I want you asleep, not talking all night.”
“Alright, Mommy,” Laurel answers. “Love you.”
Luke snuggles closer to his sister. “Love you, Mommy,”
“Love you, babies.”
I follow her out of the room, and we don’t speak until we’re downstairs.
“Your kids are too forgiving,” I say with a shake of my head. “But you shouldn’t be. What you saw in me today isn’t the man I want to be. I haven’t been that angry for a long time. But my dad...”
She reaches for my hand, and this time I don’t pull away.
“I wanted you to hurt him because he hurt Luke. I’m not proud of that, but one moment doesn’t define either of us.”
I don’t know that I agree. Because every single moment with her has molded me into someone new. A person I desperately want to be, even though I’m not sure how to go about it.
I kiss the top of her head. “How are you real?” I ask against her hair. “You’re too good. Like I dreamed you up just to feel like a better man than I know myself to be.”
“Then be the man I believe you are,” she says.
I don’t mean to kiss her. I don’t plan on kissing her. We both have too many emotions swirling inside us to work them out physically. Then she sways closer, I lean down, and our lips meet, soft and desperate.
She tastes like sunshine and rainbows after a storm, and I catch her soft moan in my mouth, wanting to hold on to it. Wanting to be the only man who ever pulls that sound from her.
Molly makes me want in a way I never have.
Nothing has ever mattered like this. Not a championship or a buckle. Not the ride of my fucking life. I’ve gone after a lot of things, but none of them compares to her.
I force myself to end the kiss. “I need to go before—”
“Stay.”
Her hand grips mine more tightly. I feel the calluses on her palm. They mean more to me now than they did the first time I noticed them.
She isn’t the fragile thing I once believed. She’s the steady ground beneath my feet. The center that holds everything together, solid and true. But also as rare in her goodness as a prize orchid.
“You know I can’t. The kids will—”
“Just for a little bit,” she says, her voice shaky. “They’ve got each other, Chase. But I don’t want to be alone right now.”
“Molly—”
“I don’t want to be alone,” she repeats.
Those words undo me.
I lift her into my arms, walking up the steps slowly. She buries her face in the crook of my neck, and her sweet scent winds around me like fog rolling in from the sea. Until all I can see is her. All I know is the feel of her body in my arms.
I enter her bedroom, pull back the covers, and lay her on the sheets.
“Close the door and lock it,” she tells me quietly.
I feel my eyes widen a fraction. “I can just hold you. We don’t have to—”
“Please, Chase. They never wake up when they sleep together.”
I should hold my ground. I have no business in this house after everything that happened today. But that cord that binds us tightens like a noose around my heart. I don’t even try to fight it.
I lock the door, already pulling the sweatshirt over my head as I turn back to her. She unbuttons the flannel, and my breath catches as inch after inch of creamy skin is revealed.
We don’t speak as we undress the rest of the way. But I don’t need words right now. Nothing needs to be said that I can’t tell her with my body.
I join her on the bed, careful of her ankle once again because I don’t want to cause her even a second of pain. If I’m being honest, I don’t know how I’m going to prevent that, but it’s a worry for another time.
After grabbing the key from the dresser, I unlock the box in the nightstand, take out a condom and roll it onto my hard length.
She wraps her legs around my hips when I fit my cock at her entrance, and I enter her slowly, pressing kisses along the underside of her jaw until she grabs my face in her hands and fuses her mouth to mine.
We move together, and although this joining lacks any of the creativity or—hell—the foreplay of the previous times we’ve been together, I’m ready to explode inside her almost immediately.
Afterward, we lie tangled together in the quiet darkness, our breathing slowly returning to normal. The storm outside has settled, but I can feel the tremor in Molly’s hands as she traces patterns on my chest.
“I saw something in you today,” she says softly. “When you were fighting with your father. It scared me.”
My stomach drops. “Molly—”
“It scared me because I understood the pain you’ve been carrying and how much you’ve been holding back.” She pauses. “But it didn’t scare me away.”
I don’t know what to say to that. How do you respond when someone sees the worst parts of you and chooses you anyway?
“I care about you.” Her voice is steady in the darkness. “More than I probably should. Even the parts you think are too damaged to care about.”
The tightness in my chest goes slack at her words. I’ve spent so long thinking I was too broken to find happiness. But holding her close while her children sleep safely across the hall, I almost believe we have a chance. One I deserve.