Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Molly
The unmistakable sound of flesh and bone colliding has me rounding the corner into the hospital room before I can form even one coherent thought. A metaphorical wall of testosterone brings me to a halt when I see five iterations of Bobby Rhodes, one clearly older than the rest. Everyone in the room is shouting, their fists tightly bunched as Bobby scuffles with one of his brothers.
My eyes flash to his mom in the hospital bed looking frail and tiny in comparison to the giant men surrounding her. I lunge toward Bobby, intent on separating him from who I assume is Will, not pausing to think about the wisdom of using my smaller frame to intercept two grown, battling men. But I'm pulled back at the last second by a pair of strong arms and turn to see Bobby’s father, his brow furrowed and jaw tight.
“Hold on there, young lady. You don't want to get caught up in that.” He sets me aside and barks at one of the bystanding brothers, “Artie, pull those two knuckleheads apart! Dammit all! Can't you boys see you're upsetting your mother and embarrassing yourselves? What is wrong with you?!”
Bobby grunts and throws another punch as Will drives his head into Bobby’s gut, grabbing him around the middle and bashing him into a wall. By the time they're separated and held apart by their brothers, Bobby has a cut over his eyebrow and Will's nose is bleeding. They’re glaring hard at one another and breathing even harder. I’ll admit I’m just as breathless as they are. What in the world is going on with this family?
“Apologize to your mother right now,” Bobby’s dad commands.
Will shakes off Artie’s grip and stalks from the room, purposely bumping Bobby’s shoulder on his way out. Bobby snarls at him, and when he turns to watch him go, he finally spots me. His expression goes from wild aggression to what I can only describe as devastation in the blink of an eye.
“Fuck,” he mutters, bending at the waist and propping his hands on his knees.
I can feel everyone’s eyes on me, but I can’t stop looking at Bobby’s bent frame and heaving chest.
“I apologize for my sons,” Mr. Rhodes says, his voice gruff with annoyance. “Clearly none of them are fit for respectable society, especially that one.” He gestures to Bobby. “I hope you’re not too invested is all I can say.”
“Don’t lump Artie and me in with those dipshits,” the one who must be George complains. “At least the two of us know how to treat a woman.” To prove his point, he sidles up next to the bed by their mother.
As if pulled up by an invisible puppet string, Bobby straightens and robotically shuffles to the door of the hospital room, only pausing to mutter a quiet, “I love you, Mom. I’m sorry,” before passing through and disappearing around the corner.
His mom’s eyes shine with tears, and part of me wants to go hug her, but I don’t know her. I don’t know any of these people. But there is one person I know, and he’s in a whole lot of pain right now. So I excuse myself and run after Bobby.
The man is quick, I can give him that. He’s already outside the hospital entrance and striding down the walkway by the time I catch up to him.
“Bobby!”
I know he hears me, but he doesn’t slow down. Good thing I wore my flat boots today.
“Robert Rhodes, stop running away. Talk to me.”
He still doesn’t slow down, but at least he acknowledges me this time. “They’re right, Molly. I’m no good for you. I’m an impulsive asshole and I’ll never be good enough for you.” His voice is tight and low, and it sets my heart racing faster than the sprinting I’m doing to keep up with him.
“That’s a bunch of BS, and you know it!” I’m finally able to grab the fabric of his shirtsleeve and pull him to a stop—not from my superhuman strength but because I’m not letting go and he doesn’t want me dragging on the sidewalk behind him getting road burn. See, he always looks out for me, despite what his current mindset is telling him.
“It’s not, Molly. I’ve been kidding myself that I’m becoming a better man. I’ll always be a hot-headed Rhodes boy, scrapping and lashing out, trying to claw out a space for myself. You deserve better than that. Matthew deserves better than that.”
I let go of his shirt and prop my hands on my hips. “Don’t you think I at least deserve some input on what Matty and I do or don’t deserve? You’re upset, and understandably so. I mean, damn, I thought my family dynamic was rough.”
He drops his head back on a frustrated growl as a light breeze ruffles his hair. “You’re making excuses for me. I literally got into a fistfight in front of my mother while she’s fighting for her life.”
“Okay, fair. I’m not about to say I liked seeing you and your brother bloodying one another. And, yes, your timing could have been better.” I step right up into his space and grab both his hands. He straightens his head to look down at me, strain lining his mouth and eyes. The setting sun casts him in a golden light that highlights his perfect bone structure. “But I could feel the tension in that room strung tight as a bowstring from out in the hall. Hell, I’m pretty sure people out in this parking lot felt it, it was that intense. Emotions are bound to run high at a time like this, but it was more than that. You’ve talked about it before, but I didn’t really get it until today. It’s toxic, and that’s not on you.”
“I should be able to handle my own shit, Molly. I’m a grown man.” He pulls his hands from mine and covers his face. “Fuck! My mom.”
I pull a bottle of water from my bag and hand it to him. He takes it and wordlessly opens it to draw in a long swallow. I want to get a better look at that cut on his eyebrow, but he needs more reassurance first.
“Your mom knows your family dynamic better than anyone, I’m sure. And I’m sure it’s scary as hell to see her in that hospital bed, but she’s going to pull through and be fine. I know she will. They didn’t even have her in the ICU, so that’s a great sign. And then the two of you can carve out some time together—maybe away from the rest of your brothers, yeah?”
Bobby pulls the bottle from his lips and shakes his head, but I notice some of the tension has drained, so I must be getting through to him to some degree. “I shouldn’t have brought you here.”
I grip the fabric of his shirt with both hands. “I’m glad you did. I want to be here for you like you’re always there for me. And to be honest, I kind of want to punch your brother in the face for running his mouth like he did. Your family makes an art out of shit stirring, don’t they?”
This elicits the smallest of lip quirks. “It’s an Olympic sport and they’re all gold medalists.”
I smile up at him, infusing all the warmth I can in my words. “Stick with me and I’ll bring the peace.”
Bobby brings his hand up to cup my jaw, his thumb caressing it as he stares into my eyes. “That’s exactly what you do, Molly.” His voice catches. “You settle my soul and give me that calm I didn’t even know I needed so badly.”
“I love you, Bobby, and we’re going to work through this. Together.” The sting of building emotion hits my nose.
“I have no idea what I did to deserve you, baby,” he whispers as he leans down to rest his forehead against mine.
“Right back ‘atcha, Mister bigshot hockey man.” I slide one hand up to wrap around the side of his neck. “How about we patch up that eyebrow and get something to eat. Then maybe you can call the nurse’s station and get a full update on your mom?”
“I do get a little cranky when I’m hungry.” This time, his smile is closer to the Bobby I’m used to.
I pat his chest. “I know.” Then I take my man to dinner.
“You’ve told me a few things about growing up, but I get the sense you don’t like to talk about it, so I haven’t really brought it up,” Bobby says an hour later as we both lay our napkins over our empty plates at a diner near his family home. Drama and grief sure do work up an appetite. “Now that you’ve had the full Rhodes family experience, I kind of feel like it’s my turn. If you feel up to it, I’d like to hear what growing up in the Hooker household was like.”
I pause with my drink straw halfway to my mouth. “You just like saying my maiden name.”
“I don’t not like saying it.”
I bark out a laugh. “Believe me, I was happy to get rid of it when I married Blake.” After sipping my drink, I set it back on the Formica tabletop and pause for a moment. “I don’t know, I guess our family’s story isn’t that uncommon. Money was tight, utilities weren’t a given, depending on the month. I had to grow up fast.”
Bobby leans in and rests both forearms on the table. I get momentarily distracted by the arm porn he so casually lays out there. “Being an only child in that situation must have been rough. I mean, my brothers are assholes, but it doesn’t mean we never had fun. And Richie has always been fairly tolerable.”
“Yeah. It was lonely.” I spent way too much time alone as a kid. “It wasn’t fun growing up feeling so insecure about everything, so I don’t know that I would have wished that on another child.”
I shake my head, allowing the memories to surface. “For a while, I was too young to understand that not everyone’s mom spent rent money on telephone psychics and nobody else’s dad relied solely on get-rich-quick scams to keep the family fed. There was no true adult in charge, and I didn’t know until I was older how that really messed with my head.” I lean forward, infusing my words with all the conviction in me. “It’s why I’m so adamant about giving Matthew a strong foundation and letting him be a kid. I don’t want him worrying about adult stuff yet.”
Bobby winces. “And then I go and fuck things up by acting immature and probably making you relive some childhood trauma.”
“No, Bobby. You didn’t.” I reach over the plates and grasp one of his hands. “My parents never took any responsibility for anything that went wrong in our lives. They’d chalk it up to bad luck and blindly promise next time would be better. They never owned their own shit. One of my very first conversations with you was about how you were in therapy to improve yourself and show up for the people in your life. You own every ounce of your shit and you’re not afraid to work hard for what you want.”
One of his dimples pops. “Were you a cheerleader in high school? Because you are damn good at building up a guy’s confidence.”
I give his hand one more squeeze and lean back in my side of the booth. “Nope. I was working from the time I was fifteen, so I didn’t have time for normal high school stuff. But I could still do a mean herkie. And I could work a deep fryer like nobody’s business.”
His eyes widen. “Stop turning me on, Sparkle.” Then he sobers and sighs. “I really hate that you had to go through all of that.”
I shrug because life is going to life, no matter what we do. I’m just glad I have him in mine. “Everybody’s got family baggage. Ours just might be a matching set, Mr. Rhodes.”