Page 97 of Beautiful Collide

You are so fucked, Wilde.

“Duly noted,” Molly says, securing her bag over her shoulder. “Next time, I’ll let your mom know all about how you chewed out that poor referee last week.”

“Wait—what?” I start, but she’s already halfway out the door, leaving me sitting there, stunned and—dammit—grinning like an idiot.

Because, for all her jabs, I can’t help but like that she keeps me guessing.

Molly takes the long way, weaving through crowds because she’s too short to notice the exit on the other end. I take thatdoor and round to the front, where I wait for her to make her way outside the place, my back against the brick wall.

When she finally bursts through the door, she spots me, and a scowl immediately forms on her lips.

I move to stand in front of her. “Seriously, Hex. What was that?”

Molly arches an eyebrow. “What was what?”

The woman doesn’t even realize what she’s done to me. That I’m practically glitching inside, trying to figure out her endgame.

Maybe this is her latest tactic—kill me with kindness and watch me squirm.

“You. Being nice. Praising me like I’m some kind of saint.” I throw my hands up, frustrated. “What’s your angle?”

Molly takes a deep breath. She opens her mouth, closes it, and then shakes her head, starting up again. “You wouldn’t understand.”

I don’t budge. “Try me.”

She looks down. “I always wanted parents like yours. I just wanted to be part of a family for a minute.”

It feels like a slap in the face. I’m stunned. Taken completely off guard. For once, I can’t think of a single thing to say. She’s knocked the wind out of me.

“They’re so proud of you.” Her gaze drifts down to her hands. To where’s she’s twisting her fingers together. “So supportive.”

I stare at her, her soft words doing something unfamiliar to me. “They’re my parents,” I say like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “That’s their job.”

Her laugh is soft and bitter. “Not everyone’s parents got that memo.”

The words are quiet, but they pack a punch.

I fumble for something to say, anything to fill the silence stretching between us. “Molly, I—”

“Don’t.” She finally lifts her gaze to mine. Her eyes are hard, guarded. “Don’t say something you think I want to hear. I’m not looking for pity.”

“It’s not pity,” I say quickly. Too quickly.

I don’t know much about how she or Dane grew up, but it’s obvious now that something happened. Sure, I knew she didn’t have parents, and her brother raised her, but something about her words suggests there’s more to it.

She raises an eyebrow, her mouth pulling into a humorless smile. “Of course it isn’t.”

The air between us feels heavy. Suffocating. My chest tightens at her words, the casual cruelty she’s wielding against herself.

“You don’t have to talk about it,” I say softly, stepping closer.

“No, I don’t,” she agrees, her voice sharper now. “But maybe I wanted to, just this once, sit at a table with people who don’t look at me like I’m broken. Who don’t expect me to be the strong one all the damn time.”

I blink, the vulnerability in her words cutting deeper than any insult she’s ever thrown my way. “Molly . . .”

“Forget it.” She shakes her head. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

She moves to step around me, but I reach out, my hand lightly brushing her arm.

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