Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 114263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
“Being back here—working with y’all—I just—I missed out on so much. If I had known what life was really like here…I mean, I would’ve loved to be out working on the ranch with Dad. I think I’m starting to understand…”
I suck in a breath. “What?”
“Why he never wanted to leave.” She sounds so sad that for a second, my grip tightens on the doorknob. Do I go in there? Comfort her?
I can comfort her from here, best as I can.
“I know you have regrets, Mollie. But seeing you today—” I swallow. “You’re doing the right thing.”
She scoffs, the sound echoing inside the bathroom. “Maybe. But whether it’s right or wrong, I’m too late.”
“It’s never too late to start over. Take the lessons you learned and try to do better with the people who are still around.” I let go of the doorknob. A wave of grief moves through me, filling my legs with a familiar heaviness. “What else can you do?”
“Not be an asshole, for starters.”
I grin, despite the sting in my eyes. “I’m working on it.”
“I’m talking about me. I was an asshole to my dad. I mean, you were an asshole to me, don’t get me wrong—”
“Past tense.”
“What?”
“You said I was an asshole. That mean you think I’m not anymore?”
A pause.
Somehow, I know she’s grinning too when she replies, “You’re growing on me.”
There’s a flutter in my stomach.
A stupid, inconvenient fucking flutter that simultaneously brings a smile to my face and brings my grief that much closer to the surface.
“You can cry, too, you know,” Mollie says, reading my mind. “I can’t even see you, so it’ll be like it never happened.”
I wipe away a tear. “I’m fine with crying.”
“But you’re just too busy to do it.”
I chuckle. “Something like that.”
Everything about this is weird. Us having a conversation through a door while Mollie’s naked in my bathtub. Mollie being here at all.
The weirdest part? I feel strangely safe in this moment. Maybe it’s the privacy the door affords us, or maybe it’s because I’m just too damn tired to keep my guard up and my feelings buried. Whatever the reason, I’m not scared to bare my heart.
Warning bells go off inside my head. I’m not like this. I don’t do this.
But here I am, doing it.
Here I am, turning around and sinking to the floor, my back to the door. Sipping my beer, I try to breathe despite the elephant sitting on my chest.
“You still there?” Mollie asks.
“I’m still here.”
“Tell me about your parents.”
“What about them?” I push my ragged thumbnail underneath the damp label on my beer bottle.
“I don’t know. How did they make you, you?”
I laugh, even as I wipe my eyes on my sleeve. “You mean, how’d they raise me to be so damn excellent?”
“Ha.”
Thinking about it, I land on a specific memory. “My parents were always around. They worked nonstop—as you’re seein’, that’s just life on a ranch—but they made sure we tagged along. Even if it meant adding a shit ton of aggravation to their day. I remember this one day, I was throwing a tantrum over God knows what. I was five, maybe six? My mom was pregnant with the twins, and she’d had it with me. So Dad scooped me up and put me in the saddle with him for the day.” I smile. “I was about as sore as you are after that. But I loved every fucking minute of it.”
I can hear the smile in Mollie’s voice when she replies, “I loved it too. That feeling of working together, being a part of something.”
“Exactly.” Exactly. “That’s one of the things Mom and Dad were best at. Giving us a real sense of belonging. Of purpose. Our family was—is—tight. Had no other option, really. We either helped each other out or it all fell apart.”
Mollie sighs. “Having each other’s backs that way sounds nice.”
“You’re really close with your mom.”
“I mean, yeah.” A pause. “But it’s not like the bond you have with your brothers. Being an only child has its perks, but, well…I’ll say it this way: I want more than one kid if I’m lucky enough to have a family of my own.”
My heart leaps. I drain my beer. “You want kids?”
“I do. Being on the ranch is showing me that I really love having people around. My life in Dallas feels pretty damn small in comparison.” She scoffs. “Do you? Want kids?”
Loaded question. I consider not answering. Changing the topic.
But that feels bullshitty and wrong right now. And, yeah, maybe I want to get Mollie’s thoughts on my predicament.
Maybe I want her to play devil’s advocate. Why? I don’t know. But I like the way her mind works.
“I do. Not sure I’ll ever have ’em, though. In some ways, I’ve already got four sons. Plus a daughter.”
“Ah. I get that. You’ve been the man of the house for a while now.”