Page 102 of Beautiful Collide

Or did something trigger her today?

“I can’t,” she whispers to herself, her voice trembling.

“You can’t what?”

She tips her chin to the door. “Go in there.”

“I’m here.” I take another step forward. “I’ll make sure you’re okay.”

She pivots her upper body to look at me. Her head shakes. Tears begin to well in her eyes. I want to reach out and hold her.

But I don’t want to push.

Who knows if touching her will set her off or calm her?

I need to tread carefully.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” Her voice is a mix of confusion and vulnerability. “After everything that’s happened?”

Neither of us brings up yesterday. When shit got too real.

It’s like some unspoken agreement.

Maybe we’llneverbring it up, but it doesn’t change the fact that it happened. It happened, and we can’t undo it, and I will never look at Molly Sinclair the same.

And hopefully, she’s done looking at me the same way she has the past few years.

“Believe it or not,” I reply, my voice steady, “despite all the rumors, I’m actually a nice guy.”

She huffs out a breath, not quite a laugh, but close enough. “Nice guys don’t torment their teammate’s sister until a bet makes them stop.”

I wince, shoving my hands into my pockets. “Touché. But for the record, you’ve tormented me right back, so let’s call it even.”

Molly doesn’t respond right away. Her eyes drift back to the closet door, and I can see the way she’s bracing herself—like just looking at it takes more strength than she wants to admit.

“What happened, Molly?” I ask softly. “Why can’t you go in there?”

Her fingers twitch where they hang at her sides like she’s fighting the urge to fidget.

She doesn’t look at me when she speaks. “It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid,” I say immediately, my voice firm but gentle. “If it was stupid, you wouldn’t look like you’re about to bolt.”

She swallows, her throat working hard.

For a second, I think she’s going to shut down completely.

But then she speaks.

“When I was a kid . . .” She stops, shaking her head as if trying to get rid of the words before they’re out. “No. Never mind.”

I take another step closer. Carefully. Slowly.

“When you were a kid . . . what?”

Her gaze flickers to me, her walls starting to crack just a little. Then she shakes her head again, and the moment is over. “Never mind.”

My jaw tightens, the words hitting me harder than I expect. “You can tell me. I won’t judge. I won’t even say anything else if you don’t want me to.”

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