Page 44 of The County Line
Molly nods. “I’d love that.”
Once she’s out of the building I immediately turn to Molly, curious to know what the hell happened while I was gone.
She reads my mind. “I took her statement down and already emailed my contact at Child Protective Services. As a police officer, I have a mandate to report it immediately, but I would have regardless after I’d spoken with her. CPS will open an investigation, and I’ll push tomorrow for it to be expedited. I know this might not be the approach you wanted but it’s the right one, Colt. Thelegalone that protects you and her. And given that the son is a minor, we have to do our due diligence here to protect everyone involved, including Jenni.”
She’s defensive, rattling off the details of how the process will work, what to expect, and her plan to push her contact at Child Protective Services to act quickly despite Jenni saying that nothing has happened with the son. She explains how they’ll get Jenni removed from her current home and into one where she feels safe.
A weight falls from my chest as I listen to her ramble. I can tell she thinks I’m still mad—her eyes avoid mine as she speaks, and her words tumble over each other in a rush to justify her decisions and the approach that she’s taking. But anger is the last thing I feel right now and hell, I wasn’t really angry a week ago either.
She’s thought this through. While I’d been quick to want action, she’s right. This is the correct approach—the legal one that protects Jenni, and, frankly, protects me from making a bad situation worse.
For the first time in a while, I feel something that feels a hell of a lot likehope,and it almost makes me smile.
Almost.
“Thank you,” I say roughly when she finally pauses to take a breath.
Her ocean-blue eyes lift to meet mine, her lips tugging into a small, forced smile. “You’re not upset with me?”
“Of course not. You took what I said and handled it the way it should’ve been handled all along. I shouldn’t have blown up the way I had. I’m sorry.”
She exhales a breath. “I’m sorry for what I said before about your intentions.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
Her smile softens and this time it’s genuine. She looks so beautiful when she smiles like that, it makes me want to hold her. This must have been why she’d been upset when she arrived earlier. Perhaps she’d known she was going to have to have a difficult conversation with Jenni and I today.
“Do you want to get out of here?” I ask. “I know Lydia wants us to go to the happy hour with the other volunteers, but I was thinking grilling hot dogs by my new fire pit would be a better way to end the day. We can watch the sunset and drink something other than this nasty soda”
She nods, her smile widening. “Sure. I’d like that.”
Chapter 20 - Colt
Thirty minutes later, Molly and I are sunk deep into two old Adirondack chairs around the fire pit, the warm blaze between us throwing flickering shadows over her face. The sky’s gone full indigo, stars just beginning to poke through the edges of the horizon, and the air’s taken on the crisp bite of early spring.
April or not, these nights still carry a chill, so I handed her one of the fleece blankets from my RV. She’s got it wrapped tight around her shoulders, pulled up to her chin, her knees tucked under herself like she’s always been at home and comfortable here.
I stayed in just my t-shirt and jeans, the heat from the fire and the energy buzzing under my skin are enough to keep me warm.
Our roasting sticks angle over the flames, hot dogs slowly spinning as we talk. Or more accurately, as she talks, and I listen because I could listen to Molly ramble on about anything these days. Her voice is easy, animated, full of that familiar energy that always made her feel like the sun in whatever room she walked into. She’s telling me about the cases she’s been assigned since starting her new role as the city’s youngest parole officer. Sheprobably shares more than she should—details about parolees, schedules, violations, decisions that don’t seem easy to make—but I don’t stop her. I just let her keep going, let her words wash over me and settle deep in the quiet parts of my chest I didn’t know were still aching.
It doesn’t feel like ten years have passed. It doesn’t even feel like ten minutes. It’s just… us. Me and Molly. The way it always used to be.
Except now, there’s something heavier curled between us. Something charged. The pull between us isn’t new, but it’s sharper now. Grown up. Grown deeper. It hums underneath every glance, every pause in the conversation, every flicker of the firelight that dances across her face.
And I know she feels it too—because sometimes her voice catches for just a second when our eyes meet, like her body’s aware of mine before her brain can catch up. Like she remembers that night in the bar and what we did and wonders if it’ll happen again.
Since I got out, she’s been the only person I’ve spent real time with who isn’t blood. And the truth is—I don’t want my time taken up by anyone else. Not now. Maybe not ever. These days she’s the only person I want to talk to.
When the conversation slows and she shifts to get more comfortable, I take a second to study her in the glow. There’s something different about the way she holds herself now. Still bold, still fierce as hell—but with something weightier in her eyes. Like she’s seen too much. Like she’s carrying more than she lets on.
I find myself wanting to know all of it.
So ,I clear my throat and ask softly, “What was it like… when you left after graduation?”
Her gaze lifts to mine. The fire crackles between us, and the moment stretches for a few seconds. Because I don’t just want to know where she’s been. I want to understand the woman she’s become. The one I can’t stop watching. The one who might be the only person who makes me feel like the man I’m still figuring out how to be.
She takes a bite out of her food and chews carefully before responding.
