Page 259 of Beautiful Collide

I nod, my chest tightening. “Yeah. I do. And if you think for a second that I’m going to let you keep sacrificing yourself for me, I won’t.”

Her expression becomes more serious. “I love you too.”

“Yeah, obviously.”

Her lips twitch, and she lets out a laugh. “You’re such a pain in the ass.”

“Takes one to know one.” I grin.

She laughs again, and it’s the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard.

“So,” I say, glancing down. “What’s the deal with this little guy?”

“It’s ashe. And she doesn’t have a name yet.” Molly scratches behind the dog’s ears.

“No name?” I say, mock scandalized. “Well, we’ve got to fix that.”

She raises an eyebrow. “What do you suggest?”

“Hmm.” I rub my chin, pretending to think. All the funny names Anna has come up with over the years as she begged for a dog come to mind. “How about . . . Fluffypants?”

Molly snorts. “Absolutely not.”

“Fine,” I say, smirking. “What about Bark Twain?” Anna came up with that one when she was eight. It was one of my favorites.

She groans, shaking her head. “You’re the worst.”

I grin, looking down at the dog. “All right, Twinkie, it is.”

Molly pauses, her hand stilling on the dog’s head. “Twinkie?”

“Yeah,” I say, my smile softening. “You know, like the ones we ate during the tornado. The ones that kept us alive.”

She stares at me for a moment, then bursts out laughing. “Okay, Twinkie it is.”

The dog wags her tail, clearly approving of the name.

And as Molly leans into my side, her head resting against my shoulder, I realize that this—her, me, Twinkie . . .

It feels like home.

93

Hudson

When I get hometoday from practice, I find Molly sitting cross-legged on the couch.

I expect to find Twinkie on her lap. Instead, she has her laptop balanced there.

Twinkie is on the cushion next to her, fast asleep, despite the sound of her fingers typing furiously.

She’s been like this every day for the past three days.

Every day since I told her the full extent of what’s going on at the farm.

Now, she searches for a solution to a problem that isn’t even hers to solve.

She hasn’t stopped trying to figure out a way to fix it—for me.

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