Letters to Molly (Maysen Jar, #2)(54)

He nodded once, pivoting so they wouldn’t be able to read his lips or see the expression on his face. “Finn is out of surgery and in recovery. He’s had a lot of internal damage. Right now, we’re worried about infection and swelling. But if he makes it through the next twenty-four hours, his chances improve drastically.”

“But he’s alive?” I croaked out.

The doctor nodded. “He’s alive.”

Thank you, God.

Rayna’s hand came to her mouth as she wept tears of relief. David pulled her into his side, holding her tight and turning her sideways so the kids wouldn’t see.

I wrapped my arms around myself, physically holding the emotions inside. “Can we see him?”

“I can let you in there for just a few minutes, but he’s not awake. We’re keeping him sedated for the time being.”

“You guys go,” I told Rayna and David. “I’ll tell the kids.”

“No,” Rayna said. “You should go.”

“But—”

“Molly.” David touched my arm. “Go.”

“Kali and Max—”

“We’ve got them,” he said. “Go.”

“Okay.” I nodded and followed the doctor down a series of white hallways until we stepped into the ICU. When we entered Finn’s room, my thundering heartbeat drowned out the sound of his monitors.

My hand flew to my mouth, my eyes squeezed shut. A tear dripped down my cheek as I took three breaths to get myself together.

Finn, my Finn, was barely visible beneath white mounds of gauze and bandages. It was hard to see more than the tubes and wires connected to his still body.

“I’ll give you a minute.” The doctor touched my shoulder then left the room.

My shoes shuffled along the floor, the rubber soles squeaking because I didn’t have the strength to lift my feet.

Finn’s hand was cold when I took it in mine. A hundred things to say ran through my mind. Pleas for him to fight, to survive for our children. Sarcastic jokes about his inability to operate heavy machinery. Questions about why he’d kept me as his emergency medical contact after all our years apart.

But if Finn could hear me, if he didn’t make it through the next day, then there was really only one thing to say.

“I love you. I love you so much, Finn. I’ll always love you.”





Twelve





Molly





“Hey.” I smiled at Gavin as I stepped up to his porch.

He leaned against one of the posts, a glass of iced tea in his hands. “Hey.”

I bent down to pick up the glass he’d set on the top step for me. “I love your sun tea.”

Gavin chuckled and sat next to me on the stair. “This is the last batch.”

“What?” I stared at him in horror. “Why can’t you make more?”

“I ran out of tea bags.”

“I can pick some up at the grocery store later.” I was dedicated to Gavin’s tea. It had been one of my favorite things during the past six weeks. Sitting on the steps with him had become my little time-out from reality.

“I have some coming but it’s back-ordered.”

“I’m going to tell you a little secret.” I leaned in closer to whisper. “This company called Lipton is fairly famous for their tea. They actually carry it at the grocery store. Here. In this town.”

He chuckled. “I can’t do Lipton.”

“Too good for Lipton, huh? I had no idea you were such a tea snob. I feel like I don’t even know you.”

“It’s my mom’s fault. When I was growing up, my family took an annual vacation to the desert. My mom stumbled on this little café outside Flagstaff, and it became our place. They had the best sun tea. Over the years, she became good friends with the owner and found out the brand of tea she used. Mom ordered it and never looked back. She has early-onset Alzheimer’s, and we had to put her in a home a couple of years ago. There are days when she doesn’t remember me or my sister or my dad. But she’s never forgotten that tea.”

“And you make sure to order it too.”

“Always.”

I smiled, taking a healthy pull from my drink. “Thank you for sharing it with me.”

“The pleasure is all mine. You are my favorite neighbor.”

“Don’t tell that to Mrs. Jarrit.” I nodded to the house at the end of the cul-de-sac. “I think she has a crush on you.”

“There’s just something about me that seventy-year-old single women can’t resist. I think it’s my glasses.”

I giggled, finishing my tea. I swallowed the last drop as a black van turned onto our street. My shoulders fell, the exhaustion from the last six weeks hitting me full force.

“Today’s the big move day?”

I sighed. “Yeah.”

“How’s everyone doing?”

I stared at the van as it crept toward my driveway, not sure how best to answer that question. “I don’t know. It’s been hard. I know I told you this yesterday, but I really appreciate everything you’ve done to help out. From mowing the lawn, to sending over the girls to play with Kali and Max, to bringing pizza over. And the tea.”