Letters to Molly (Maysen Jar, #2)(79)

“Kali asked me earlier if we were ever going to get together again. It could have been her.”

“I don’t think so.” Molly shook her head. “You know your daughter, Finn. She shows everything she feels. Some of those letters were devastating to read. I don’t think she would have been able to read them and hide it from us.”

“Yeah,” I muttered. “You’re probably right. Okay . . . a mystery for the ages.”

“I’m actually glad I don’t know who.”

“You are?”

“I don’t want to know someone else’s motives for doing this to us. I’m just glad they did. We left too much unsaid. Now it’s all out there. Now we can finally breathe.”

I went to the couch and picked up my backpack, slinging it over my shoulder. “I agree.”

“I’ll walk you out.” She went for my suitcase, rolling it down the hallway behind me. “Take care of yourself.”

“I will. Same to you.” I bent to kiss her at the front door, going for her lips, but she turned her head so I got her cheek instead. I lingered there for a moment too long. It never did feel right kissing her on the cheek, not when I knew how good it felt to have her lips instead.

“I’ll bring the kids over tomorrow,” she said, taking a step away.

“Great. See ya.”

And that was it. Back to two homes. Two schedules. Two separate lives.

I took the suitcase from her hand and left. The ramp the Alcott guys had built for my chair had been removed this past week. Without another good-bye, I walked down the stairs to my truck. I’d driven it over the day my boot had been removed.

“Finn,” Molly called.

“Yeah.” I sighed, wishing she hadn’t called me back. I needed to go while I still could. Every step away from the house was forced. Had leaving the first time been this hard?

“Thank you for the letters.” In her hand, she’d uncrumpled the last one.

I nodded once then turned again and loaded up the truck.

She stayed on the porch, waiting for my driver’s side door to close, then she disappeared inside the house.

My heart felt like it was being ripped from my chest as I backed out of the driveway. The pain got worse as I drove across town. When I arrived at my house, it looked the same as it had when I’d left. Clean. Expensive. Lonely.

Homes in this neighborhood rarely went on sale and when they did, they were sold for asking price or above. This was the neighborhood where everyone wanted a house.

Everyone except me.

Too much had changed.

I pulled into the garage, parked, then went inside. Mom had promised the place was clean. Poppy had stocked the fridge for me. I walked through the laundry room, taking my bags to my bedroom and setting them on the comforter.

“I forgot my pillow,” I grumbled.

I’d left it at Molly’s because it was Molly’s. Except it was mine.

I took a slow tour of the rest of the place. The kids’ rooms were spotless, their beds made and ready for them to come over tomorrow for the weekend. There was a small fern on the kitchen counter—something new Mom had probably found at the grocery store. All the other houseplants were watered and thriving, and the refrigerator was indeed stocked with my favorite dishes.

Mom and Poppy must have spent an entire day cooking. It was good the kids were coming over because otherwise, I’d never get through it all by myself.

The quiet was unnerving so I went to the living room and switched on the television. I found a baseball game and sat in my recliner. It wasn’t as comfortable as I remembered.

Only one inning went by before I lost all interest in the game, so I pulled my phone from my pocket to call Poppy.

“Hey,” she answered. “Are you at home?”

“Yes, thanks for the food.”

“Sure. How are you feeling?”

“Fantastic,” I deadpanned.

“Uh-oh.” In the background, the kids were laughing and playing with some sort of toy musical instruments. “Hold on one second. Let me go to a quiet room.”

I waited, muting the TV as she maneuvered through her house.

“Okay, what’s wrong?”

“I’m not in the right place.”

“And the right place is . . .”

I rolled my eyes. “You know the answer to that.”

“I do. But do you? What happened to ruining your life?”

“That plan kind of fell apart when Molly and I got in a fight over one of the letters.” I rubbed my jaw. “It was bad. It was about her and that other guy.”

“Oh.” Poppy’s voice fell.

“She asked me if I could forgive her. I said I didn’t know.”

The other end of the line went silent. It lasted so long, I was sure I’d dropped the call. “Poppy?”

“I’m here.”

“You don’t have anything to say?”

“You don’t want to hear what I have to say.”

“No, I really do.”

“You have no right to hold that night against Molly. And shame on you if you do.”

I winced. Poppy’s sharp tone was one I hadn’t heard in, well, ever. “Ouch.”

“I’m not done.” She. Was. Pissed. “It’s time to pull your head out of your ass. Be with Molly, or for God’s sake, let her go. Please, let her go. She deserves to be happy. You both do. Be the man she needs or walk away. Because we both know she’ll love you until you tell her to stop.”