Page 57 of Homecoming Heartbreaker

Molly rested her chin on her bent knee and stared at the calm waters of the pond, wondering whether she should stay at Moonlight Ridge or try and forge a path somewhere else. Jameson would understand if she left. He had, after all, encouraged his sons’ efforts to fly harder, farther and higher and he’d afford her the same respect and consideration.

A part of her wondered if she could cut it in a competitive environment; wondered if she could hack a corporate culture. Then she remembered that she’d survived thirty-plus years of her family’s backbiting and manipulation. She’d be fine.

She was a hard worker, was smart and canny and her BS meter was well tuned. She’d make it anywhere.

But did she want to go? When Mack left—and Molly prayed that would be soon—did she want to stay at Moonlight Ridge, help Grey and then Travis, discover who the real thief was? She rather thought that she did. She was, after all, being set up to take the fall. She wanted to help nail the perp’s hide to the wall. And, she adored Moonlight Ridge. It was her place and she was the best person to manage it.

But that meant working and dealing with the oldest Holloway brother, for a few more weeks at least. “When are you going back to Nashville?”

Mack considered her harsh question before answering her. “Grey is taking over from me soon, I do need to get back on the road so that’ll suit me.”

Mid-June was just ten days away; she could tolerate him for that long, surely? She’d have to...

“But I’m seriously thinking of relocating my Nashville headquarters to Asheville,” Mack added.

Molly banged her forehead on her knee. Why was life punishing her like this? “Why?”

“I want to be around more, hang out with Jameson, bug Grey. And, when it’s Travis’s turn to look after the resort, I want to spend some time with him, too,” Mack said, his voice even.

“Making amends, Holloway?” Molly demanded.

“Yeah. But that’s not the biggest bridge I need to rebuild.”

Molly didn’t pretend to misunderstand him. “Good luck with that.”

She could see the remorse in his eyes, his expression frustrated. “I messed up, Molly, I know that. I absolutely should’ve brought my concerns to you before going off half-cocked.”

“Did you suspect me of taking the money?” Molly demanded. “Even once?”

“Yes,” Mack replied, his expression grave.

She thought she’d be angrier but she respected his blunt admission of the truth.

“And no...”

Well, that was a confusing answer. Molly raised her eyebrows in a silent command to explain.

“Maybe a part of me wanted you to be guilty because then I could go back to my boring, staid and uneventful life. Maybe I was looking for a way to put distance between us. There’s a chance that I chose to act like I did because I knew it would infuriate you and you’d call it.”

“Congratulations. You succeeded in getting me to do what you wanted,” Molly stated, her tone flat.

“But that’s not what I want, Mol.” Mack stretched his legs out, crossing his feet at the ankles and resting his weight on his arms. “The real reason I didn’t want to come back to Asheville was because I knew I wouldn’t be able to resist you, Curls.”

Molly scoffed at that statement but Mack ignored her. “Over the years I didn’t engage with you, couldn’t spend any time with you because I, subconsciously, maybe even consciously, knew I would fall for you again. And that’s exactly what happened.”

Mack turned to face her and rested his forearms on his knees. “I’m so in love with you, Molly. And loving you so much scares me. It scares me enough to run because if I run, if you’re not around, I can’t lose you.”

Molly’s heart bounced off her chest. “You lost me once through your own choice and you lost me again because you acted like a controlling ass.”

“Noted. Accepted.” Mack picked up a twig from the deck and pulled it through his fingers. “Congratulations on confronting your family, Mol, and on confessing to Jameson.”

“Thanks,” Molly replied, caught off guard by his change of subject.

“You are so much braver than I, sweetheart,” Mack stated. “You stand and fight. I—like my sperm donor—tend to run when life gets tough or inconvenient or too real. I did that years ago as a kid, and I’m ashamed to say I was going to do it again.”

“You don’t need an excuse, Mack. Just leave. I’m giving you permission to go. Trust me, I’ll be fine.”

“Except that I would rather chew my wrists off than leave you again,” Mack softly said. “I want to stay. I want to fight for you, for our happiness, for our future. I want to be brave like you, Mol. I want to dig my heels in and get stubborn. I want to plant roots and a garden, build a relationship and a house with you. I want to earn your forgiveness, wake up with you in my arms, put a ring on your finger, catch our babies as you give birth to them.”

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