Page 128 of Beautiful Collide

A realization hits me in the chest.

Molly is the calm I need.

She’s quiet.

I keep my eyes trained on her until she meets my gaze. Her eyes search mine.

“Just food for thought,” she says, sheepish. She rubs the back of her neck. “From what I know of your parents. So, since they don’t let you pay for help, you help them yourself, right?”

“Yeah.” I run a hand through my hair, accepting the lifeline she gave me. “It’s not enough, though. And it kills me to see them struggling when I could help.”

Molly doesn’t respond right away.

Instead, she looks back at the stars. “They’re lucky to have you, you know. Not everyone would stick around and help like that.”

I laugh, but the sound lacks humor. “They’re the best people I know. I couldn’t not help. They’ve given me everything, and they ask for nothing in return. That’s just who they are.”

Her hand squeezes mine. “That’s . . . really amazing, Hudson. I mean it.”

My chest feels tight.

This is Molly.

The real Molly.

There’s no sarcasm. No hate.

She’s just . . .her.

I flip my hand over, linking our fingers together, testing the waters. “Thanks.”

She doesn’t pull away. Our hands laced together, we fall into another silence, but this time, it isn’t awkward. It feels almost natural. Like the tension between us all day has finally faded away.

I tilt my head back, my gaze fixing on the stars. “You ever think about how small we are? Compared to all of this?”

Molly chuckles softly. “What, are you getting philosophical now?”

I grin. “Maybe.”

She shrugs. “Makes sense, it’s the stars. They do that to people.”

Her voice is soft, almost wistful.

For a second, I forget how to breathe.

The moonlight casts a glow across her face, catching on her cheekbones, her nose, and the soft curve of her lips. I swear the girl could make a guy forget his own name.

I shift closer, just slightly, but it’s enough to catch her attention. She glances at me, her eyes darker than usual in the low light.

Something shifts in the air between us.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she whispers, her voice barely audible.

“Like what?” I ask, even though I know exactly what she’s talking about.

“Like I’m—” She swallows, her words catching in her throat.

“Like you’re everything,” I finish for her.

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