Can't Look Away(68)
Molly turned out the light and flopped onto her side, pulling the covers up around her shoulders. For what seemed like the millionth night in a row, Jake was still at the studio, and she was falling asleep alone. Again.
Molly closed her eyes and saw the Facebook images of Blair behind her lids, something small and sharp pricking her chest. She had no reason to be jealous. She was with Jake, who still made her stomach flip, even just waking up next to him. Who filled her with a love so consuming and complex it drove her to the brink of madness and back again in the span of ten minutes. Perhaps Hunter felt familiar to her because he was the type of man she’d once thought she’d marry: the tall, dark and handsome breed; a little dorky and straitlaced, a steady gentleman, who didn’t take himself too seriously.
But that was before Jake, and it was why Molly never felt truly guilty for spending time with Hunter. Her feelings for Jake hadn’t changed, and she knew in the depths of her soul that they never would. For better or worse, Jake Danner was the love of her life.
On the eve of Precipice’s launch in June, Jake was a basket of nerves. Rolling Stone’s review of the album would be live first thing in the morning.
Molly ordered them pizza from Roberta’s—Jake’s favorite—which he barely touched. His cerulean eyes were unfocused, far away, as he nursed a glass of whiskey. Even when Molly slid her hand under the waistband of his jeans and pressed her mouth against his neck, there was no reaction.
“I’m sorry, Moll,” he mumbled. “Tonight’s just … can we not?”
Jake was already up when Molly woke the next morning—she doubted if he’d slept at all. He was perched on the couch, elbows on his knees, cradling his face in his hands.
“Jake?”
He didn’t answer. Then Molly noticed his laptop, which sat open on the kitchen counter, the Rolling Stone article up on the screen. The headline, in big, bold letters: DANNER LANE RETURNS, LACKING AND CONTRIVED.
Dread pooled in Molly’s gut. She moved closer to the computer.
The whimsical, homegrown vibe that won our hearts in Danner Lane’s debut album The Narrows is, unfortunately, deficient in its follow-up. In Precipice, out today, the trio targets a more mainstream sound that deviates from its roots, and in doing so wholly misses the mark. The exception is “Molly’s Song,” which topped the charts when it released as a single last year, and stands to be the album’s one-hit wonder. On guitar and lead vocals, Jake Danner edges for the spotlight. The comradeship of The Narrows’ backup vocals has all but disappeared in Precipice, and the talent of bass guitarist Sam Lane and drummer Hale Lane fades into the backdrop.
Molly stopped reading, unable to stomach another word of the scorching review. Her eyes flickered to Jake, whose golden head remained dropped between his knees, palms pressed to his face. This was bad. This was worse than she ever imagined.
Chapter Twenty-seven
Molly
July 2022
Sunday is overcast, the sky knotted with clouds. A tangible humidity hangs in the air. Molly doesn’t lie to Hunter about her plans for the day.
“I told Jake I’d take a walk with him on the beach this morning,” she tells him over breakfast. “I’m bringing Stella.” Molly doesn’t know if this strengthens or weakens her case. “She has a playdate with Jade at noon, so we won’t be long.”
Hunter says nothing, eyes glued to his phone. At the other end of the table, Stella is absorbed in a Frozen coloring book.
“Are you okay with that?” Molly hesitates, swallowing a piece of toast. “I just … I think it would be good for us to catch up. I mean, he lives here now, and if we’re going to be friends…” She lowers her voice. “It’s been a long time, Hunt. He was important to me.”
“I know.” Hunter presses his palms to the table and stands. He slips his phone into the back pocket of his tennis shorts. “Sometimes I just…” He shakes his head, his dark hair swaying lightly. “I can’t believe he ended up here, in our town. I mean, what are the chances, Molly?”
“I get it.” She nods sincerely. “I feel the same way.”
“But it’s fine. You do what you have to do. I trust you.” His eyes clip hers. “It’s just … it’s been a weird summer.”
“I know.”
“It’s almost August, and we haven’t sailed together. Not once.” He sighs. “You just seem distracted.”
There’s a pit in Molly’s stomach. Hunter is right. She has been distracted, and the summer is slipping away from them.
“I’m not trying to make you feel guilty,” he adds, squeezing her hand. “I know we’ve had a lot going on.”
She knows he means the fertility stuff. She nods. “Well, why don’t we go for a sail this afternoon? You, me, and Stell. We can take your mom’s catboat.”
“It’s supposed to rain this afternoon.”
“Oh.” Molly never remembers to check the forecast. Hunter, on the other hand, always seems to know what the weather is doing. This is one of the myriad ways they balance each other out.
“We’ll find a time.”
She nods, pressing against him, leaning up for a kiss. “I love you, Hunt.”
On the way to Skipping Beach, Molly lets Stella use her iPad in the back seat. She should be better about screen time—she knows this—but she needs the ten minutes to ready herself.