Page 66 of The Choices I've Made
“I’ll see what I can do,” I replied, turning my attention to the task at hand.
Molly’s slow dance with the surfer heated up as I watched his fingers nudge toward the hem of her dress.
“Oh, hell no,” I muttered, stalking forward.
“Hey, Jakey!” Molly shouted, her arms firmly around the dude’s neck. “Have you met my new friend Gabe? He’s from New Jersey.”
“No,” I deadpanned. “I haven’t had the pleasure.”
Gabe didn’t even turn in my direction, his glossed-over expression clearly focused on my girl.
My girl.
The thought nearly stopped me in my tracks, but I didn’t have time to contemplate it.
Because the truth was, Molly would always be mine whether or not either of us cared to admit it.
“Can I cut in?” I said, not bothering to wait for an answer.
Molly’s eyes widened as I stepped in the middle of them, pushing the idiot aside, not caring in the least for the guy’s feelings. He mumbled something about ruining his night, but I didn’t give him one ounce of attention.
He was lucky he was still standing.
“I thought I told you to go away,” Molly said.
“I’ve never been great at listening, especially when it comes to you,” I said, pulling her close as the music went on around us.
Her breath caught, and I couldn’t help but grin. She was annoyed with me. I could see it in the warm flush across her cheeks and the way she tried to avoid my gaze.
But she didn’t pull away.
“Why are you here, Molly?” I asked, doing my best to lead her around the dance floor when all I really wanted to do was tear her away from the place.
“Having fun,” she said indignantly. “That’s what a girl does when she’s been dumped. Gotta show the town I’m single and ready to mingle.”
“This has never been your kind of scene,” I reminded her as her eyes finally met mine.
“How would you know?” she said, pushing back. Her arms wrapped around her waist, a telltale sign she was feeling insecure about herself.
If only she knew she had no need for that type of emotion.
She was breathtaking. She always had been.
“You don’t know anything about me,” she continued. “Don’t walk in here, thinking you know me and everything about me.”
I held up my hands in protest. “I know, I know. You’ve grown. You’ve changed. But tell me something. How many times have you thought about leaving this bar? How many times have you thought about the bread that needs to be baked or the plants that haven’t been watered? You might have gotten older—we both have—and priorities might have shifted, but believe me, you’re still the same girl I knew. The same one who worried about term papers months in advance, who told on herself for glancing at Dean’s paper in math class.”
“I was looking out the window and accidentally glanced down,” she mumbled.
I couldn’t help but laugh, taking a step forward. She didn’t retreat.
“You’re still the same person, Molly. Still my Molly.”
I took another step forward with her wide eyes focused on mine. There, in that brief moment, I saw a flicker of hope. A glimpse at a future I’d never anticipated.
“No,” she said, breaking our connection. “No, I’m not, and you’d do well to just leave me alone. You might be back, Jake, but you’re not home. This place moved on after you left. So should you.”
The thing was, she was right.
