Page 70 of Someone to Hold
Then maybe I'll stop aching for things I can't have.
Because Chase is a man tied to a past that won't let him go, and I need to stay focused on the future. Sure, he makes me feel seen and safe and alive in ways I never expected. But he also makes me hope, and hope is dangerous when the man you're falling for is only here because he owes your dead husband.
I can't afford more heartbreak, and Chase isn’t the man for me, no matter how much I want him to be.
21
CHASE
It takesa two-hour trail ride in the national forest surrounding the farm before I come close to working through the feelings churning in my gut.
I should have gone to see my father once I decided to retire. I should have known he wouldn’t let the past rest without saying his piece, no matter how much I didn’t want to hear it.
I spend more time than usual brushing down Fancy after the ride. She gives me some wicked side-eye over her shoulder as I run the slicker down her flank, then huffs a soft breath like she’s calling me out on my bullshit. Maybe she knows I’m thinking about Molly and the shock in her gentle eyes when Dad and I did our usual thing.
“It’s better that I’m giving her space,” I tell the animal. “I don’t want to be like him, but he’s part of me, and I can’t ever take the chance of repeating his mistakes with a woman. Especially not Molly.”
I have a feeling my horse knows how much I want to go to Molly. To make sure she understands that the version of me she saw today isn’t who I want to be. But the problem is, it might be exactly who I am deep down.
“Did anyone ever tell you that you make a good therapist?” I ask, scratching Fancy between the ears just the way she likes. She leans into my touch, and for a moment, I wish things could always be this easy. But nothing is simple or straightforward when my father is involved.
I give the horse some hay and then head to my trailer. I’m sweaty and sore and need a hot shower like my next breath, but I can’t imagine Molly will want me turning up on her doorstep after how I shut her out. There’s a good chance somebody saw me squaring off with Dad in town, and both Ray and my sister have heard about it by now, which also makes me not want to reach out to either of them.
“Hey, Princess,” I say as I lower myself onto the sofa next to the sleeping cat.
She yawns, stretches, then gets up and moves toward me like she’s going to climb into my lap. I reach out to stroke her patchy fur, and she rewards me by swiping my hand.
“Ow. What the hell, girl?” I glance down at the scratch mark across my knuckle. “That was downright mean.”
She hops off the couch and heads toward the bedroom.
First Fancy and now Princess? I rub a hand over my jaw, wondering if I’m losing it to believe they’re giving me the not-so-subtle message to pull my head out of my ass.
I might be a slow learner, but I’m not a complete idiot. Usually, anyway. And I owe Molly an apology and an explanation.
I’ll go to the house to apologize and possibly shower, I tell myself as I gather clean clothes. That’s all, though. As much as I want to forget this day by spending the whole night with her in my arms, it’s better for both of us if I pull back. Say what I need to say and get out before I do something we’ll both regret.
Besides, I don’t think I’m strong enough to stay away. God knows I’ve never been good at denying myself what I want, and I want Molly with every fiber of my being.
Maybe I can keep myself from reaching for her—that’sa boundary I can honor. But just being in the same room as her calms me down, and I need that right now.
I’m not used to needing people.
The setting sun casts the farm in that golden hour glow that makes everything look soft around the edges as I walk from the trailer to her front door. The world feels still and quiet, like it’s holding its breath and waiting to see what happens next.
Join the club.
The door opens before I can knock, with Molly standing on the other side looking like the answer to every prayer I never knew I was sending up.
“It’s about time,” she says as she takes me in from head to toe. She’s wearing loose sweatpants and an oversized T-shirt with a deep V that gives me a tantalizing glimpse of the top of her breasts. Her hair is damp at the ends, falling around her shoulders in fiery waves. “You’re a mess.”
“In more ways than one.” I notice her flushed cheeks along with a slightly glassy look to her eyes. “Are you drinking?”
“On my second glass.” She hops backwards, keeping the orthopedic boot off the floor. “It’s five o’clock somewhere.”
“It’s five o’clock here.”
She smiles, and as usual, it completely undoes me. “I might have uncorked a few minutes early.”
