Page 34 of Beautiful Collide

I shrug off my jacket, shake off the droplets clinging to the nylon material, and spread it on the floor. “Here.”

Molly hesitates, glancing at the filthy floor barely covered by my jacket.

She bites her lip. “Hudson, it’s fine. I don’t need—”

“Molly.” I soften my voice as I gently guide her toward the makeshift seat. “Just sit. You’re shaking.”

She slinks down, pulling her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them.

I start to step away. “I’ll be right back.”

Her head snaps up, her wide eyes locking on mine. “Where are you going?”

“To look for stuff,” I reply, scanning the dimly lit aisles.

“Stuff?” She scrunches her nose. “Vague much.”

“Yeah, well, I might not find anything, so it’s best to be vague. I’m just looking for anything I can find.” My answer sucks, but it’s the truth. Who knows if I’ll find anything useful, so I don’t want to give her false hope.

I take a few steps and spot a flashlight on a nearby shelf.

Bingo.

If this works, I won’t have to drain my phone’s battery.

I carry it over to her and place it in her outstretched palm.

Molly turns it over, trying to switch it on, but it doesn’t work. Well, that sucks, and now I look like an idiot.

She moves to hand it back, but I shake my head. “Keep it. You don’t know if you’ll need it.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Why would I need a dead flashlight?”

“For protection,” I reply with a shrug.

She hugs the flashlight to her chest. “Um. From who?”

“I don’t know. Maybe an animal.”

Her lips twitch, and she wants to laugh. “You think that if a wolf breaks in, I’ll be able to use this?”

My lips tip into a smirk. “You never know. He could be a very hungry one.”

Molly laughs. It sounds shaky, like she can’t help but do it, but she’s still afraid. “So, now, I have to worry about a wolf, a tornado, and let’s be real, this place is straight out of a serial killer movie. So yeah . . . that, too.”

“Yep. Have fun with that.”

I start to walk away from where she’s sitting.

My footsteps tap the tile floor, echoing in the space as I explore the aisles, running my fingers along the dusty shelves.

This place is surprisingly well-stocked. Something tells me it’s only been closed for a few months. . .maybe a year. That also means some of this food might still be good.

I rummage through the items and grin when I find what I’m looking for.

“Bingo,” I mutter under my breath.

Food.

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