Page 245 of Beautiful Collide

She smiles, her hand brushing against mine. “We’re a team, remember?”

I nod, my chest tightening with a feeling I’ve never felt before, something I’m not ready to name.

86

Molly

Damn,it smells good in this kitchen.

I stride inside and find Hudson’s mom standing by the stove cooking up a storm.

Onions sizzle in a pan, the bread is in the oven, and the unmistakable scent of homemade tomato sauce bubbles on the stove.

“Can I help?” It’s the same question I’ve asked every day since we’ve been here, and just like every other time, Mary doesn’t turn around, too busy sautéing. Instead, she points at whatever she wants me to do.

A cutting board with carrots already on it. Great, I can do that.

With a smile on my face, I make my way over and start chopping.

I love this.

I feel so at home here.

Which is kind of nuts.

But it’s the truth, nonetheless.

Hudson’s family farm has brought me comfort.

The pace here is slower, the expectations lighter, and for once, I feel like I can breathe.

It’s a bit brisk today, and I’m happy I packed my old letterman jacket to keep me warm. I haven’t worn it in years, but I’m thankful I did, ’cause I’m cold.

“Where’d you get that old thing?” Mary’s voice cuts through my inner rambling. I turn toward her to see her glancing over her shoulder from where she’s stirring the sauce with a peculiar look on her face.

I pause mid-slice, looking down at the jacket. “Oh, um, I’ve had it for a while,” I say casually, though my heart does a little flip.

Mary wipes her hands on a dish towel and then squints at me. “You found Hudson’s jacket?”

I blink. What is she talking about? “What do you mean, Hudson’s jacket?”

She gestures toward the sleeve. “That’s his high school hockey jacket. He loved that thing. Wore it everywhere.”

My heart starts pounding. “This . . . this was Hudson’s?”

Mary picks up the edge of the sleeve and inspects it. “Yep. See this little stitch here?” She points at it. “I sewed that up for him when it tore one day after a game.”

The room tilts slightly, my mind racing. “What happened to it?”

Mary scrunches her nose, like she’s trying to remember. “If I remember correctly, he came home one day and said he lost it.”

My legs feel unsteady, my chest tightening. “How long ago was that?”

“Oh, must’ve been years now.” Mary turns back to the stove. “Before he graduated from high school, I think. Why?”

High school.

Holy shit.

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