Page 64 of The County Line
“That’s alright. I think he deserves that.”
She bites down on the corner of her cheek, thinking through her next move. She looks so beautiful like this. A little tortured like she always has. A lot scrappy. And a lot like my friend. The woman who knows me better than any woman ever has.
She’s going to be alright. She’s going to get through this just like she always has.
I nudge her shoulder with the cup of tea I brewed inside my RV when I was grabbing the blankets. I’ve never been a great boyfriend, but I’ve always considered myself a good friend. And friend I can do for her. Because she deserves more from a boyfriend than I can offer. So here I am, brewing her tea and holding her close. Letting her get out her justified anger and pain.
She looks down at it for a moment. Her cheeks have dried from the tears she shed at the funeral but when she looks back up at me, her eyes are wet again, and two fat drops fall onto her red streaked face.
“I’m sorry?” I ask because I’m totally out of my depth here and I don’t know why tea is making her sad.
She shakes her head, the tears catching in her long, dark lashes.
“I just… you’re a really sweet guy, you know that, right?”
Sweet guy…
Can’t say any of my exes have ever said that. I’ve been loyal, sure, and I’ve been good. But like I said, never been into the whole emotional connection thing even before getting sent to prison. Prison just made it worse.
Maybe it’s because the other women I dated were all temporary and I never saw a future with them. Maybe it’s because they weren’t Molly. The one woman who can crack me open and get me to feel emotions I haven’t felt in years. The one who’s always been my friend first.
She takes the tea, wrapping it around her fingers daintily then sniffs. “Mm… peppermint.”
“It’s all I had.”
She smiles and takes a long sip before letting out a soft, “Ah. It’s perfect. Thank you.”
We’re silent again, just the rushing of the water passing close to our feet as we stare out over the creek.
“Do you think Maverick knew I had a crush on you when we were younger?” she asks softly.
I snort. “You had a crush onme?”
She turns those blue eyes on me, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Oh, come on. Like you couldn’t tell.” Her gaze is softer now, a little less wrecked, and I can see she’s trying to hold on to some good memories with him so, I give her that.
“I’m not sure,” I say honestly as my fingers tug on a strand of her silky hair and then tuck it behind her ear. “If he did, he never said anything to me.”
But then a memory surfaces—uninvited and sharp. Right before I was sent away, Mav and I were working a late shift at the distillery. It was stupid hot inside because of the brewing even though it was February, and Cash had refused to turn on the AC despite us sweating our asses off. The whole place felt like it was a sauna.
Mav’s shirt was soaked through, clinging to him as he bitched about some woman who ghosted him that he went on a date with last week. And then, out of nowhere, he’d looked me dead in the eye and said,whatever happens to me, you better always look out for Molly.
Fuck. Whether he knew she had feelings for me—or that I had them for her—we never said it out loud and I never thought anything would come of them. He didn’t need to tell me to protect her. I was always going to do it because I cared about her.
Molly studies me like she’s trying to peel the thoughts straight out of my head. Then, just like that, she throws me off again.
“So, why won’t you have sex with me?”
Chapter 29 – Colt
Her question hits me like a punch I didn’t see coming. It’s the last thing I expected her to ask right now, and maybe it’s because she’s so vulnerable and fragile that I’m questioning all my reasons for holding back in making her mine the way she’s always felt like she is.?
It’s the kind of question I’ve sidestepped for weeks, maybe years, by shifting conversations or brushing her off with half-smiles and half-truths. But now, with her so close and too open, there’s no escape. No shield strong enough to deflect the way her voice just cracked—or the fear buried underneath it.
I clear my throat, stalling, but the lump that’s lodged there now won’t budge. She doesn’t even look at me as she hands me the mug of peppermint tea that she’s been sipping from, her gaze locked somewhere on the rushing creek in front of us. I take it, sip slowly, trying to buy myself some time to think, then pass it back to her.
She presses the mug back to her lips and sighs softly. “I know it probably seems insensitive that I’m asking you that right now. I mean, we just buried my brother who was also your friend.”
I shake my head. “There’s no right way to behave right now. I just…I wasn’t expecting you to ask me that,” I admit.
