Page 142 of Repairing the Wreckage

Remy stands outside the door and glares at my bare chest and the gym shorts I threw on earlier.

“I know I said I was fine with you two together. But seriously?” He gestures wildly toward Molly’s door. “Can’t you two go spoon in your room so I can at least pretend you’re not violating my little sister every chance you get?”

I roll my eyes and blow out a long, slow, annoyed breath. “She didn’t feel well and wanted to be in her own bed.”

He drops the aggrieved brother routine. “Is she sick? She need to go to the doctor?”

“No.” Will Molly be upset if I tell him? She didn’t want me to know. But they’ve lived together for years. He can’t be that clueless. I rub my hand over my stomach. “Girl stuff.”

“Ohhh.” He nods in understanding. “Yeah, she has it rough sometimes. I’m glad she’s home then, instead of at the dorm.”

I stare at him. Why don’t I know this?

He seems to understand my unspoken question. “Why would I talk to you about that?”

Good point. I still feel shitty I had no idea.

“Does she need anything?” he asks.

“I think I got everything for her. It was like pulling teeth, though.”

“She’s very…private about that stuff.”

“Why?”

Remy shrugs. “I love Nana but she was kinda past that point when Molly was going through it. I don’t know how much she talked to her, other than the basics.”

Fuck. Molly’s mom had already passed away, so Molly only had her shitbag father, Remy, or her grandparents to help her. Knowing Molly, she just figured things out on her own and suffered in silence. Like she wanted to do today.

Remy glances at her closed bedroom door. “I usually make sure there’s cookie dough ice cream in the freezer, ask her if she needs anything else, and she tells me to let her die in peace.”

Sounds about right. “Cookie dough, huh?”

“Ben and Jerry’s or Stewart’s are the only acceptable brands,” he warns me.

“Noted.” I chuckle. “Thanks.”

He lifts his eyebrows. “You’re okay?”

“I’m not easily spooked.”

“Good.” He pats my shoulder. “I’m going for my run, but I’ll make waffles when I get back. Tell her I brought strawberries and whipped cream home last night.”

“I’ll let her know.”

Molly’s still asleep when I return to her room. At least she seems peaceful now. Do I get back into bed and risk waking her?

Before I make a decision, she moans, stretches, and flips onto her side. Her eyes flutter open. A soft smile curves her lips. “Hey,” she mumbles.

I cross the room and sit on the edge of the bed. “Feeling any better?”

“Lots.”

“Good.” I pull the now-cold heating pad out from under her comforter, unplug it, and tuck it back in the drawer. “Are you hungry? I ran into Remy in the hallway. He left for his run but he said he’d make waffles when he gets back.”

She purses her lips and frowns. “You didn’t tell him, did you?”

“I…he wanted to know why I was up here. Something about it’s easier to pretend we’re not knocking boots if we’re downstairs.” I lift my shoulders in an exaggerated shrug and pull a silly face.

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