Page 38 of The County Line
“You can’t get in the middle of this. You’re not in a position to make that call.”
I sit forward in the chair, leveling her with a cool glare. “Respectfully, I don’t care what the parole officer in you thinks about what I should or shouldn’t do. What does myfriendMolly think?”
She rolls her lips under her teeth as she thinks, and then shakes her head. “I don’t know. But you can’t afford to get in anymore trouble.”
I exhale sharply, leaning back, frustration curling through me. It stings—knowing she doesn’t believe I can do the right thing, that she thinks I’d risk my freedom so easily. And maybe she’snot entirely wrong. When I see something that isn’t right, the thought of consequences takes a backseat to fixing it.
But this… this is different. For the first time in a long while, I feel something other than apathy—something real. Unless you count the way Molly felt in my arms at the bar, the rapid thrum of her heartbeat against my thumb. But even that feels like a distant memory now, drowned out by the weight of her doubt.
And Jenni? She’s not some fragile kid. She’s on the edge of becoming a teenager and has seen more than most people twice her age. I trust her to know if something isn’t right.
I take a deep breath and decide to try a different angle. “That little girl, she has no one. Not a parent, grandparent, aunt, uncle or cousin alive to look out for her. Her mom died six months ago, and she’s been bounced around foster homes until she landed with the Brandons. And now, the Brandons want to adopt her. What a sweet family you say?” I cock my head to the side, assessing her reaction.
She purses her lips, waiting for the punch line but I’m a patient guy, I want her to ask me nicely to continue. Tobeg me.
“But they aren’t nice, are they?”
I shake my head no. “No, I don’t reckon that they are based on the survey I got of them today gripping her and hauling her through the grocery store like she was a nuisance, and I want to do something about that.”
She blows out another mouthful of air before brushing her hands through her long, silky hair. “What are you going to do, propose you foster her instead?”
“Nah. I just need that family not to adopt her.”
“I don’t know Colt…the systems are pretty pro-adoption, especially with the family that she’s currently living with.”
“I’ll figure something out then.”
She bites her lip, hesitating before shaking her head. “Okay, don’t hate me for asking Colt, but… is there a chance you’re throwing yourself into this because you’re trying to make up for what happened before? Like, maybe this is your way of fixing something—righting a wrong you see—because you couldn’t save that woman the night you got locked up? Is this aboutfeelingsomething again, like you said you wanted to?”
My chair scrapes against the dirt as I push back, anger flaring hot in my chest. Of all people, Molly—my friend—should know this isn’t abouther.The woman I helped that night—the one who turned on me—has nothing to do with this. This is about right and wrong. Simple as that.
And yeah, maybe for the first time in a long time, I actuallyfeelsomething thinking about this, but this isn’t about me. This is about Jenni.
“Seriously, Molly? The fuck?”
She puts her hands up in surrender, her blue eyes widening. “I’m sorry, Colt. I don’t know, it just seems like bad timing to get involved.”
I rub my head with my hands and shake my head firmly. “You think people get to look the other way when they see something messed up because it’s bad timing for them to help? That’s what’s wrong with this world.”
She winces, but I don’t care, ready to continue to show her why helping Jenni matters.
Chapter 17 - Molly
“You think it wasn’t bad timing for me to get locked up just as Troy was launching his political career and our family was breaking ground on the brewery? Yeah, shit happens at the worst times. But there’s never a good time for something bad to happen, is there?”
“We don’t even know the full story yet,” I counter, trying to rein in his intensity. “You’re jumping to conclusions based on one conversation with her and a single observation out in public. There’s a process, Colt. Foster parents have to go through background checks and follow protocols to get approved before taking in a child. We’d need to follow the prescribed process to look into these claims that you’re making.”
His jaw tightens. His voice drops. “I don’t need the whole damn story. I know what I saw. And the look on that girl’s face? It reminded me of another young girl I saw once. She was scared, mistreated, and need someone to trust and believe her.”
My chest tightens as I realize exactly who he’s talking about.
Me.
“You don’t think I haven’t hated myself for years for not pushing my dad harder to help you and Maverick out when we were kids?” His tone softens, his eyes shadowed with guilt. “I can’t even count how many times you two would show up at my house, shivering, hungry, and malnourished because of that piece-of-shit father you had and the scumbags he let hang around your trailer.”
A tear slips down my cheek at the memories. One winter night immediately comes to mind. Maverick and I standing on the Marshall’s back porch, soaked from the rain, my fingers numb from the cold. Colt’s dad had answered the door instead, his expression shifting quickly from surprise to anger. He didn’t ask questions. Just pulled us inside, wrapped us in blankets that smelled like campfires and laundry detergent, and set plates of pasta in front of us like it was the most normal thing in the world. I remember crying while I ate, my tears mixing in with the seasonings while Maverick told me to stop being a baby and not to embarrass myself.
Even now, I can feel the warmth of that kitchen—the hum of the refrigerator, the way the wood floor creaked under Colt’s dad’s boots, the flickering light above the sink. It had felt like another world, one where things made sense and people showed up for once. I used to sit quietly at their dinner table, afraid if I made too much noise or took up too much space, they’d remember I didn’t belong and send me back home when all I wanted was a family.
