Page 236 of Beautiful Collide

Mom nods slowly as if considering her words. “I suppose I never thought of it that way.”

Molly smiles again—small, hopeful. “You gave Hudson everything. A home, love and stability, and a family. You worked so hard to make sure he didn’t have to carry those same worries.” She pauses, her tone careful, like she’s testing the waters. “And now he has a chance to give that back. Not because he has to, but because he loves you. Because it means something to him.”

My breath catches.

Holy crap, Molly.

It’s like she knows exactly how to get through to my mom without pushing too hard or making her feel uncomfortable. She’s walking the fine line between honesty and persuasion, and I’ve never seen anything like it.

She’s remarkable.

Mom doesn’t respond right away.

Instead, she picks up the basket of eggs, her hands moving slowly, thoughtfully. “You’re wise for someone so young, Molly,” she says finally.

Molly shrugs, her smile turning wry. “I had to grow up fast. You learn a lot when you don’t have a safety net.”

Mom nods, and there’s a long moment of quiet between them.

I take that as my cue to step in before I start feeling like even more of an intruder. I push the barn door open a little wider,letting it creak loudly against the metal tracks. Both of them look up, startled.

“Well, isn’t this cozy.” I try to keep my voice light as I stroll in.

Molly rolls her eyes immediately, her guard snapping back into place. “Were you eavesdropping?”

“Me?” I feign innocence, grabbing a stray piece of hay and twirling it between my fingers. “Nah. I was just looking for you two. Thought you might’ve run off with the chickens.”

Mom gives me one of her disapproving looks. “Hudson, don’t tease.”

“I’m not teasing,” I protest, flashing a grin. “I’m just saying, I didn’t expect to find you in here getting life lessons with the hens.”

Molly shoots me a look, her lips twitching like she’s fighting back a smile. “I’m sure you were just worried I’d make a better farmer than you.”

“Highly unlikely,” I retort. “But you keep telling yourself that, Hex.”

Mom gives us both a look that screams behave, but there’s a softness in her expression.

“I’ll take this inside,” Mom says, holding up the basket. “Dinner is in an hour, so don’t stay out here too long.”

“Got it, Mom.”

As soon as she leaves, the barn feels quieter, the air humming with something unspoken. Molly stands and dusts off her pants, avoiding my gaze.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I say finally, my voice low.

She glances up at me, her expression unreadable. “Do what?”

I step closer, watching her carefully. “Whatever that was. With my mom. You didn’t have to say all that.”

Molly shrugs. “I wasn’t saying it for you.”

“Maybe not,” I admit, tilting my head. “But you meant it, didn’t you?”

She doesn’t answer, but she doesn’t have to.

Because I realize that Molly Sinclair—my little Hex, the woman who has spent years driving me insane—might just be the best damn thing to ever happen to me.

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