Can't Look Away(84)
Proof that lived, that breathed. Your child with Hunter.
Chapter Thirty-two
Molly
2015
Molly woke, a pang of panic striking her chest. The memory of the night before came violently rushing back, and for a fleeting moment, she thought it couldn’t possibly be more than a terrifying dream. But then the edges of the memory began to reappear, giving it weight, substance, and no—it wasn’t a dream. This was real. Too real.
Cold sweat dampened Molly’s brow, at the same time her skull felt cracked open, like her brain was being stabbed by little knives. That was the price you paid for doing half a dozen shots of Fireball from an ice luge. Ugh, the ice luge. Nina and Cash’s housewarming party at their new apartment. Molly recalled only snippets of the evening: drinking vodka sodas with Nina, Ev, and Liz in the kitchen before the other guests arrived; Cash clearing the floor so he could do the worm to a Kanye song; her intense conversation with Nina in the bathroom. Had they all gone out to a bar afterward? She had no recollection. But the end of the night—that she remembered clearly. For better or for worse.
God, she hadn’t been that drunk in a long time. Which only made her guilt worse. She needed to call Jake, immediately. From bed, Molly flung her arm toward her nightstand, to the spot where her phone was normally plugged in to charge overnight. Phew. It was there. In the haze of her drunkenness, at least she’d kept track of her phone.
On the screen were several missed calls and texts. Most of them from Nina and Everly, asking where she’d gone, rows of question marks. And there was a message from Hunter. 3:52 a.m. Molly’s stomach churned.
Hey, you were clearly wasted tonight. Call me in the morning, ok?? I want to make sure you’re all right.
Fuck. She really had to get in touch with Jake. He was in Zurich until Tuesday, she was pretty sure—it was hard to keep track of his tour stops, and it had been a few days since they’d spoken. What time was it in Zurich? Six hours ahead, she was almost positive.
Molly tried him, but the call went straight to voicemail. Shit. She needed to talk to him, and not just about last night. She was supposed to be flying to Germany on Wednesday, but Jake still hadn’t sent her the flight information. Molly was spending two weeks in Europe, traveling with Jake and the band from Munich to Amsterdam to Brussels and then finally to Paris, where they would spend Christmas and New Year’s. Molly couldn’t wait. She hated to miss Christmas at home with her mom and Andrew, but when Danner Lane’s tour manager had offered to book her flights for this segment of the tour, Molly had been unable to say no. Christmas in Paris with Jake—what could be more romantic? She missed him desperately; plus, she’d never been to Europe. She’d never even been out of the country.
Molly rolled out of bed, trudging to the kitchen for water. Her mouth felt dry and rough, like it was made of sand, and she chugged two glasses of water at the sink. Her phone chimed on the counter, and she lunged for it, praying it was Jake. But Hunter’s name appeared on the screen.
Are you all right? Just let me know you got home ok … worried.
Molly chewed her bottom lip, nerves coiling in her stomach. She typed out a response.
I’m fine, just hungover. I’m sorry about last night, hoping we can just forget it? I was way too drunk …
Hunter’s reply arrived a few minutes later.
Of course, consider it forgotten. But if you need to talk, I’m here.
Molly groaned. She refilled her water glass, then closed all the curtains so the living room was a dark cave. She curled into a ball on the couch and called Jake again, a seed of panic unfurling in her gut, but he didn’t answer. She stared at her phone, debated trying Nina next. Molly knew she should tell someone about last night. Her thumb hovered above the dial key for several moments before she changed her mind, tossing her phone to the other end of the couch. She just needed to be alone with her thoughts, at least for now.
Molly closed her eyes, the memory of the end of the night slamming her again. The air in the room hummed; even though her pounding head was a painful reminder that she was awake, she felt as if she were dreaming.
“Fuck,” she said out loud to no one. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.”
She must’ve drifted back to sleep, because when she woke to the sound of her ringtone, it felt much later. Only a smidgen of daylight peeked through the green flowered curtains.
Molly pounced for her phone, a fresh wave of disappointment crushing her when she saw that it wasn’t Jake.
“Hey, Neens.” Her voice was croaky.
“Molly. Jesus Christ. Did you see my texts? What happened to you last night? Are you okay?”
“Ugh.” Molly sat up, her head still pounding. “I’m sorry I didn’t call you earlier. I’m deathly hungover. I’ve been asleep. I’m okay, though. Why does everyone keep asking me that?”
“Because you were really drunk! I mean, we all were, but you especially. I just … I hadn’t seen you like that in a while, I guess. And we were all at Freehold—”
“We were at Freehold? God, I don’t even remember that, Nina.”
“I’m not surprised. You ordered us those gross blue shots, but Everly didn’t want hers, so you took two. We kept trying to get you to dance, but you wouldn’t stop talking about Hunter. And then you just disappeared.”