Molly’s hand went on the move again, this time down my left leg. “What about this one?”
“Another stab wound. Not from my brothers that time, though. I zigged when I should’ve zagged. It missed the bone, so the recovery time was fairly short.”
That scar just above my knee was the reason I’d limped into the nearest walk-in clinic and met a beautiful red-headed, blue-eyed nurse. She’d taken care of me. She’d also been the first woman I’d ever fallen in love with. I was so caught up in my memories of her, that when I heard Molly say her name, it was almost as if I’d somehow summoned it from the ether.
“Alana,” Molly said, her voice just above a whisper. “She’s Anna’s mom, isn’t she?”
I hadn’t realized that Molly had continued her explorations, wandering up to my right arm, the upper portion of which had Alana’s name emblazoned in ink. I’d gotten the tattoo right after my daughter had been born, wanting to honor her mother.
The sting of the needles drilling the black script letters into my skin had been nothing compared to the ache in my heart.
“Yes.”
Probably thinking she was changing the subject, Molly’s fingers then went to the bullet wound a few inches above Alana’s name. “When did this one happen?”
“The night of Anna’s birth.”
She sat back on my lap, searching my face. Whatever she found there made her caress my chin and give me a tender kiss with those bow-shaped lips of hers. “You don’t have to tell me.”
No, I didn’t. But as Molly laid her head on my collarbone, I realized I wanted to. “We weren’t married. My father objected to that, didn’t like the break with tradition. So when she went into labor, he sent me out on a ‘business meeting’ instead of letting me go with her to the delivery room. I got shot.”
“So you missed seeing your daughter born.”
“Yes
, but that’s not why.” My throat became suddenly too thick to speak through. I readjusted our positions so that I could bury my face in her hair. Her cinnamon aroma floated around me, giving me solace.
“She had a heart condition I didn’t know about. She didn’t know about it, either. I managed to get back to her right as she was beginning to push, but then she told me she didn’t feel well. She lost consciousness and the doctor ordered me out of the room.”
My chest hurt and my voice sounded like I’d gargled with battery acid, but I had to keep going. Needed to keep going. “She never woke up. Our baby was delivered by C-section.” I took a shuddering breath. “Anna’s heart is healthy. I had them run every test available to make sure.”
And that was it. All I could get out. Molly enveloped me with her entire body, her arms and legs holding me firmly against her.
After several minutes passed, she shivered. She was cold again, which meant I had to make a decision.
I hadn’t slept on the mattress I’d shared with Alana in months—once her scent had completely faded away, I’d taken to pulling out the hideaway kept inside this sofa instead—but I knew moving to that sleigh bed would keep Molly warm.
The chivalrous thing to do would be to carry her over there and tuck her inside the covers, but I hesitated. Though we’d shared something powerful together tonight, I didn’t want to go to that bed.
I just wasn’t ready.
Then, Molly did something I couldn’t have anticipated. She stood, showing me every bit of her radiant glory, and crossed to the bed herself.
I opened my mouth to object, but instead of climbing between the sheets, she grabbed a hold of the thick quilt folded on top of the bench along the footboard. She returned to me with it, laying down and wrapping the quilt around us.
“This okay?” she asked, cradling her head beneath my chin, a few strands of her hair tangling in the stubble along my chin.
I pulled her in even closer, letting my eyes fall shut. “This is perfect.”
15
Molly
I was small. So small I could fit in the cupboard under the kitchen sink. A baby was crying nearby, squalling really. But I didn’t have time to worry about that. He was coming. My dad was coming. And I had to hide. He scared me. Screamed at me. And last night, he’d hit me.
It’d hurt so bad. It still did. But I couldn’t cry, couldn’t make any noise, because if I did, he’d come after me again.
I heard my mom now. She was crying just like the baby. He’d slung her into the wall once already, and now he threw her into the kitchen. The dining room table in here filled more than half the room, and she landed on it.