Page 36 of Filthy and Dirty with the Bikers

I clench my jaw as the tightness in my chest returns. How could I be such a fucking idiot? I make fun of assholes who do dumb shit like this. I mean, I talked to her for way too long to not know. I let her into some of the darkest parts of me, and…I’m just stupid as fuck.

I blow out a heavy sigh as Molly steps into the kitchen, still wearing the doctor’s button-down shirt. I know Rhett keeps saying I fit into this ‘harem’ somehow, but so far, I’m not seeing it. And truthfully, I’m not sure it’s healthy if I do. She could be more than content with the guy who went to school to learn feelings and someone she’s known forever like Rhett.

“Hey.” Her tone is low as she moves toward the coffee maker, pouring herself a cup before wrapping her small hand around the mug to carry it toward the table next to me. “You want a topper?”

“Nah, I’m good. Thanks, though. I, ugh, Rhett sent me over to take you to the doctor this morning. He said he made anappointment with his friend down at the clinic, but he didn’t say what it’s for. Everything okay?”

She drags in a slow breath and crosses one leg over the other, wrapping Holden’s shirt down over her knees as she looks toward me. Somehow, she looks even cuter like this… relaxed in the early morning light with her hair a wild mess and her face still pink from the pillowcase. I’d dreamt of this moment so many fucking times. She and I at the kitchen table with a plate of toast between us, and the sun filtering in with hope for the day.

“I,” she exhales slowly, “I don’t know. I took a positive pregnancy test last night and… yeah.” Tears stream down her face. “I know I should be happy and I am. I just… I don’t know. Honestly, I don’t fully believe it yet. I mean, I believe it because I’m sick all day, but that’s been my only symptom.”

“What about your period?” I’ve never asked a girl about her period before, and I’m probably overstepping, but this seems relevant.

“It’s always been off. Sometimes I go months without it. Other times it comes regularly. I think it’s the stress.” Her head shakes back and forth slowly before her gaze draws up toward mine. “I’m sorry about what Tyler did to you. That must have been awful. I—”

“I shouldn’t have gone over there last night.” My pulse speeds. “I just… I couldn’t stand the thought of him having that money that you genuinely needed. So, I got it back for you.”

“I can’t take that money, Maverick. Thank you, but no.”

I stare toward her, then toward the stack of cash in the center of the table. There’s still blood on a few of the top bills. Heat flushes through my body as I replay the scene from last night in my head. My eyes squeeze shut and my body tenses before I take a deep breath and look toward Molly.

“Did you really hide under the slide in fifth grade because kids were bullying you?”

She folds her arms over her chest. “He told you all this?”

I nod, brushing my hand down over my beard.

“What did you tell him?”

I swallow hard and look away before glancing back again, anger irrationally sitting at the base of my throat. “I told him about the bike accident, and how thankful I was for Holden and Rhett. I told him how lonely life gets on the road, how my mother died last year, and how I buried my old blue tick the same month. We got deep. Basically… I’m an idiot.”

Her hand reaches out and lands on top of mine. And while I know this is the first time she’s hearing any of these stories, and it’s the first real connection we’ve had, I can’t help but feel like we’ve been in this place emotionally hundreds of times before.

“I’m so sorry about your mom. Were you close?”

“Yeah. She was my best friend. My dad died when I was young, so it was just the two of us for a lot of years. She taught me everything I know.”

“It must have been hard to lose your dog the same month. I haven’t had a pet since our family’s golden passed like ten years ago, but he was the best. I swear he could understand everything I was feeling.”

“Old Blue was like that, too. He sat next to me every day after mom died, his head on my lap, not askin’ for a damn thing back. That’s where he died too.”

Her thumb brushes back and forth on the back of my hand. “That’s so sad. I’m sorry.”

“Ah, enough about that. I, ugh, life goes on. It has to. How was it being raised by your brother?” I’ve asked these questions already, but it’s nice to know this time the answers are actually coming from her.

“I’m lucky to have him. He really stepped in and worked hard to make sure I had everything I needed.” She smiles. “He’s kind of a saint for putting up with me during my teenage years.I was one of those fun teens that got really mouthy and emo. I never listened to a damn thing anyone told me. My brother laughed for like eight days straight when I told him I wanted something cutesy like a flower shop. I think he expected me to be a tattoo artist or a drug dealer or something. Lucky for him, I can’t draw and I’m terrible at math.” Laughter fills the room. “All those grams to make sense of… not my thing.”

My brows wrinkle as I take a sip of coffee. I should’ve taken the topper. This shit is cold as fuck already. “Why did you want the shop?”

“When my parents died, I was real young, and people sent all these gorgeous arrangements. At the funeral, at the house afterward, for almost a year, people randomly sent these huge colorful flowers. I spent the entire year going through each individual stem. I’d take a picture with this polaroid camera, paste it in a notebook, and look up the meaning online. At the time I thought it was busy work, something to distract me from the reality of losing my parents, but when I look back at the journal, I see that I was looking for meaning. A sign.”

“The same way you do with the feathers.”

“Exactly. I wanted to believe that my parents were still out there looking down on me, sending me messages through the flowers and feathers.” She shrugs and brushes back a strand of hair. “I don’t know… but anyway, I wanted to be a part of people’s lives. A part of the message,” she looks down, “but that’s all about to end.”

“It doesn’t have to. The money is right there.” I glance toward the stack of cash, then back toward Molly. “I want you to have it. It’s enough for a year’s rent. We can figure out a new business plan and get you on the right track. You deserve to have the things you want, Molly.”

She sighs softly and squeezes my hand. “Thank you, but I can’t. I need to figure it out on my own. I think we’re going totry some advertising at the diner and hopefully that gets people interested again.” She sips her coffee then puts it down slowly. “I guess I shouldn’t be drinking this anymore, should I?”

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