Page 5 of Ruined
CHAPTER TWO
If you're not sweating and panting, you're not doing it right.
These days it took a lot of effort for me to get to the point where every breath sent fire straight to my lungs. My lips stretched into a grin as I picked up my pace and chased after that hit of endorphins I craved.
It wasn't long until my legs felt wobbly and a tired but satisfied sigh left my lips. I glanced at the watch strapped to my wrist as I pulled the buds from my ears. In truth, I'd have much rather worked up a sweat running along the creek than on a machine in front of a window.
Stepping from the treadmill, I grabbed the towel that hung from the handle and dragged it over my face. With the cloth draped over one shoulder, I headed for the bathroom to get on with my morning routine.
Twenty minutes later, dressed in jeans and a uniformed shirt, I emerged from my bedroom. As I did every morning, I stopped at Molly's room and got lost in the peaceful expression on her face.
Propping my shoulder against the frame, I folded my arms in front of me and crossed my ankles. My heart swelled as I took in my little girl's dark hair and even darker lashes fanning her cheeks. Behind her closed lids were curious blue eyes that always managed to hold my attention.
I still remembered the first night when it was just me and her. I'd been scared out of my mind. I hadn’t known the first thing about raising a child, let alone going about it on my own. But then Molly's little lips lifted into a smile assuring me that we'd be okay.
Sure, it wasn't sunshine and roses all the time. I was lucky, though. Help was never far away. Mama had all but moved in during the first six months of Molly's life, teaching me the things that only a mother could. Between Pops and my two brothers, Logan and Chase, my baby girl never wanted for anything.
And she never would.
Another smile graced my lips as I pushed off the frame to crouch beside her bed. In my mind, she might have been my princess, but Molly certainly wasn't your typical girl. Where most seven-year-old girls preferred Barbie dolls and anything pink, Molly had a collection of Spider-Man figurines and a basket full of drawing supplies.
I wouldn’t change a thing about her, though.
As I straightened, I brushed a few wayward strands from her face. Molly’s mother might have turned me into a broken man, but this little girl had glued me back together. I dropped a quick kiss to her forehead before making my way to the kitchen.
I busied myself with preparing my coffee and grabbing her favorite cereal from the cupboard. After popping two slices of bread into the toaster, I turned to the window to take in the beautiful picture beyond the glass. The sun had risen a few moments ago, its rays gently caressing the willow leaves.
It was then when the memory slammed into me.
It’d happened six months ago, but I still felt her on my lips as if I’d just kissed her. I gritted my teeth together in annoyance. One kiss - that’s all it’d been - and yet, it refused to leave me.
Everything about that moment was imprinted in my memory. Her smell, the way the golden fabric had clung to her glorious curves, and the sinfully sweet of her lips. I dropped my chin to my chest and let out an audible groan. For the millionth time in these past months, I wished for a way to get Zoe out of my brain.
“Morning, Daddy.”
The answer to my prayer came in the form of my very own angel. Composing myself, I spun around and greeted my girl with a smile. “Did you have good dreams, baby?”
Molly cocked her little head to the side. “Mmm,” she brought her index finger up to tap her chin. “I don’t think I dreamed about anything. Maybe the dream fairies forgot about me?”
She slipped onto the stool while I placed a bowl along with the cereal and milk in front of her. I busied myself with pouring my coffee and buttering the toast. “I’ll have to have a talk with these fairies,” I said as soon as I took the seat opposite her. “My baby girl can’t have dreamless sleeps.”
“Daaaad,” she whined. “I’m not a baby.”
I chuckled and swallowed down a mouthfull of caffeine. Setting the mug on the counter, I bent across the island to ruffle her hair. “You’ll always bemybaby.”
Molly trained her baby-blues on me, pinning me with a hard stare — well, as hard as a seven-year-old could muster. “Grams says I’m a young lady.” She tilted her chin sideways in a move that said,now say something about that.
Another laugh blew over my lips as I shook my head. “Well, young lady, better get your behind in gear, we don’t want to be late.”
Molly finished her cereal and hurried to get dressed. I was beyond grateful that my girl didn’t hate school; that would have made our mornings so much more difficult. I’d learned early on, though, that my Molly and difficult didn’t fit in the same sentence.
I wasn’t foolish enough to believe that the girl Molly was becoming was solely because of my parenting. Pops and Mama had raised three rambunctious boys who hadn’t turned out half bad. Sure, Logan, Chase and I had done some questionable things in the past. Even so, there were no other people I’d trust with my daughter’s life.
At their very cores, both of my brothers were salt of the earth kind of people. No doubt it was all thanks to Charles and Daisy Jackson.
Molly came rushing down the hall, a huge grin stretched across her face. “You ready?”
“Yes.” Her confirmation was accompanied by a firm nod.
