Chapter 24
Molly
When I wake up, there are no tiny dwarves with pickaxes in my head, but there is a dull ache behind my eyes and another one that feels like a hedge of sadness has grown up around my heart, thick and thorny.
Collin didn’t come back last night as he promised he would.
When I got up, I could just sense the emptiness of the apartment.
But this marks the first time he’s not waiting for me in the kitchen with coffee, and when I peeked in through the open door of Collin’s bedroom, there’s only a neatly made bed. No sign or scent or sound of him.
He also hasn’t messaged me, but I’ve now confirmed through attempting to use various apps and services that I only have access to Wi-Fi.
Thanks, Dad. Guess he’s decided to bring down the hammer on his runaway—his words—daughter.
Which means I have no way of contacting Collin on his apparently superior iPhone.
I don’t have his email. If he has social media accounts, they’re private and we didn’t connect.
Which leaves me wondering if he’s okay, wondering if he’s seen Liza’s video, and wondering what exactly happened between them.
I assume Collin is fine or someone would have come to the loft when they couldn’t reach me by phone.
I also assume—or am choosing to believe—that Liza’s post, which made it seem like they’re back together, is some kind of fabrication.
Or at least an exaggeration. I trust Collin.
And I know how he feels about his ex. I also feel like posting a manipulative, untrue video is taken right from the playbook of a woman who would steal from her boyfriend’s company and falsely accuse him of sexual harassment.
Even if I weren’t sure, I’ve now watched the video dozens of times, zooming in and pausing it to look for clues.
It’s only like three seconds of a hug. No context of before or after.
For the first two seconds, Collin’s hands aren’t even touching Liza’s back but hovering.
If I had to guess, it looks like she threw herself into his arms and he’s trying to figure out how to respond.
I tell myself that at the end, when his hands do land on her shoulders, he’s about to push her away.
It still sucks. And it hurts.
The grossness of it all is multiplied by the fact that this is all public.
I’m tagged hundreds of times in Liza’s video.
People are stitching her video, showing screenshots of my Collin post, and speculating wildly.
I’m getting hundreds of new comments on the hard launch post, followers trying to show their support or Liza fans being nasty.
Strangers pit us against each other—comparing who’s prettier, who they like more, and who Collin should be with.
There are also a lot of negative comments about Collin, who now looks like he might be a cheater.
Because the only thing the internet loves more than shipping a new couple is drama.
I consider posting either the video I made while we were eating guacamole or something that Lindy and Pat filmed the other night. But I don’t for two reasons.
One: I’ve decided I want my personal life to stay personal. I don’t think I even want a curated version of myself put out there for public consumption. The response to Liza’s video and all the ugliness online was the final nail in the coffin. I want out.
Two: Though I’m 99.9% positive Collin didn’t run into Liza, forget me, forget all the awful stuff she did, and decide to take her back, if he did and I post something that looks like we’re still together, well. That will just make me feel very, very stupid.
Responding publicly also feels childish. I don’t want a feud with Liza.
The only thing I want is Collin.
But he doesn’t come, and I’m finally forced to drag myself to work. Calliope closes at four, which will leave me enough time to go back to the loft and change before the wedding at six. It also leaves Collin plenty of time to come find me.
He doesn’t.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Kalli asks. She’s cleaning the espresso machine while I’m untying my apron.
Though I didn’t tell her much, I did give her the most basic rundown. In return, she gave me a hug, then a crash course on using the espresso machine so I wouldn’t have to talk to anyone at the register today just in case they happened to see Liza’s video.
“I’ll be fine,” I tell Kalli, hoping it’s true.
Collin Graham is good people, Wolf Waters told me in this very room.
I’m choosing to believe it, but until I get reassurance from the man himself, there’s no way around me feeling absolutely miserable as I get ready for a wedding I have to hope I’m still invited to.
Collin
“Calm down, my dude,” Pat says. “We’ll be there soon. If Molly is upset that you spent the night with your brothers, she’s a little too possessive for a fake girlfriend.”
My brother is lucky I don’t pull over and make him walk back to Sheet Cake. It’s a tempting thought. If we weren’t already dressed in suits on the way to James’s wedding, I might just do it.
Instead, I grit my teeth, check the time again, and tighten my hands on the wheel. “I wouldn’t care so much if I could get ahold of her,” I mutter. “Her phone isn’t working.”
I haven’t been able to get through to her since yesterday afternoon, and with every passing hour, my discomfort grows.
Why isn’t her phone working? I know she was fine last night thanks to Winnie’s text, but I don’t like not being able to reach her, to hear her voice. Especially since she expected me home last night.
I don’t like going back on my word.
Though I’m sure Molly wouldn’t have minded that I decided to stay with James and Pat at Dad’s last night, it doesn’t sit well with me that I couldn’t tell her. Not being able to get ahold of her feels like being thrown back into a different time.
How did people manage before cell phones and the kind of constant contact we’re used to now?
It’s a dumb question because of course, people before cell phones wouldn’t know any different. But having the ability to talk to someone five ways with the touch of a button isn’t something you can easily go back from. It makes getting to Molly now feel absolutely urgent.
“My, my, my,” Pat says, shifting his tone of voice. “Someone seems to have some real worry for his fake girlfriend.”
Because she’s not my fake girlfriend, I almost tell him.
If I were going to confess the truth to my brothers, I would have done it last night. Thayden left after poker, but Tank, James, Pat, Chase, and I stayed up late on the back patio, having the kind of real talk that doesn’t happen often.
James, as it turned out, is nervous about getting married. Not because he doesn’t want to marry Winnie but because, in typical James fashion, he doesn’t think he’s good enough to be her husband.
I don’t envy James the unnecessary responsibility he always insists on carrying. I’m convinced it’s part of the reason he’s got the broadest shoulders in the family—it’s all the mental and emotional weight he lugs around.
Surprisingly, it was Chase who had wise words for James.
“You’ll never feel like you’re good enough,” he said simply.
“I know I’m not nearly good enough for Harper.
But let that fear of not being enough drive you to be the best you can be instead of letting it push you into a dark place.
If you really weren’t good enough, you wouldn’t even be worried about it. ”
Wise words. Not that I should be surprised. Even from the start, Chase has brought some stability and balance to us.
After James, it was Pat’s turn to get weepy. Apparently, he’s concerned about Jo adjusting to the new baby.
“I just don’t want her to feel any less ours,” he said. “And I don’t know how my heart can love another little girl as much as I love Jo.”
And it was my dad who put a hand on Pat’s shoulder. “Your heart will expand. Trust me. I worried the same thing with every one of you,” he said, looking around at each of our faces. “But I always had enough love for all of you—and for your mother.”
This had us all sniffling. Even Chase.
At this point, despite how special the night was and no matter the late hour, I still planned to drive back.
But then Dad announced he was planning to sell the house and move to Sheet Cake for good.
It’s been a while since any of us lived at this home, but this was the house we lived in with Mom.
I could tell from my brother’s faces that they were struggling with this as much as I was.
It just feels so … final. The end of one era and the start of a new one.
I guess Tank buying Sheet Cake ushered in the start of it, but even buying a town feels small compared to selling the house.
“I didn’t think this would come as a shock, and I’m sorry it does,” Tank told us. “But it’s time for me to make some changes.”
Not even Pat found the courage to ask what other changes this might include.
I know we were all wondering if Dad is also thinking about a relationship.
He should, and we should all be supportive of it.
But I think at some point, we all stopped considering the idea of Tank dating or getting remarried.
He’s basically been a monk since Mom died.
If anyone is deserving of finding love, it’s our dad.
And yet … if I’m truly honest with myself, the idea makes me uncomfortable. I’ll have to work on getting used to it. Because, of course, I want my dad to be happy. We all do. But the idea of him having a girlfriend, or a wife—I just can’t even picture it.
The thought is still in the back of my mind, though the front of my mind is all focused on Molly.
At a certain point, it felt too late to drive back to Sheet Cake, and we all decided to crash at Tank’s.
Plus, Dad announced he was surprising us all with suits for the wedding we needed to pick up in Austin.
“If you go back tonight, I’ll just bring them,” he said.
“But if you want to make sure I had all the measurements right and they don’t need to make any changes, you might want to go with me in the morning to pick them up. ”
James’s response had been, of course, a frown. “No one needs to wear anything special. That was the point—we didn’t want to trouble anyone over this.”
“It was no trouble. I wanted to. And I have a similar surprise waiting for the ladies. One I preapproved with the bride, of course. Including Molly,” Tank said, giving me a look that made me wonder if he sees through our charade.
It would have been the perfect moment in our impromptu vulnerability party to confess the truth to them all. But without being able to even text Molly a heads-up first, I didn’t want to—especially not when one of those people would be her brother.
Just like I don’t want to tell anyone the idea that’s taken root in my mind after the conversation with Jacob and Thayden.
I know what I want to do with the field.
But I want Molly to be the first person I talk to about it. Which has made the inability to reach her even more frustrating.
Pat’s phone rings, and from the grin on his face, I know it’s Lindy. “Ask her about Molly,” I say quickly.
“Hey, Lindybird. How are you?”
During the pause while he’s listening, I say, “Is she with Molly?” but Pat sticks his finger in his other ear to block me out.
The urge to leave him by the side of the highway grows.
But it’s replaced by a whole other feeling when he groans and his voice shifts from playful to serious. “That’s … not great news. Yeah, I’ll tell him.”
My stomach drops. “Tell me what?” I whisper-shout.
He waves me off. “Also—are you with Molly right now? Lover boy here is jonesing to talk to her. Something’s wrong with her phone. Oh, wow. That’s … okay. Yeah. Love you too. See you soon.”
“What’s wrong? Tell me what happened,” I demand.
Pat sighs. “You’re not going to like it.”
I’m ready to grab him by the shirt collar and drag information out of him. “So, tell me!”
“First up, Liza posted a video that made it look like y’all are together again and it went viral. Did you see her yesterday or something?”
I bang my hand on the steering wheel. “Yes,” I hiss. “She basically ambushed me outside the gym. I should have been more suspicious of her apology. Gah! Molly knows it’s not true, right? Tell me she didn’t believe it.”
“Lindy said Molly’s pretty sure it’s not true, but I think she’s anxious to hear it from you. Which brings up the other issue—I guess Molly’s dad cut off her phone service?”
A white-hot anger sears through me. “Did he, now,” I say. The idea that her father would do that when he knows she’s essentially on her own, living in a small town makes me seethe.
What kind of a dad does that?
“If you want to get to Molly rather than go to jail for reckless driving, you might want to slow down,” Pat says, pumping imaginary brakes.
I slow down a little, but the sense of urgency driving me onward doesn’t dull in the slightest. And it won’t. Not until I’ve got Molly in my sights—or better yet, in my arms.