Page 47 of Molly

“Are you okay with him still seeing her?” Evie asks, turning to face me.

Keeping my focus on Emma, I sigh. “Honestly? I don’t even know anymore. In the beginning, after he explained they’d been good friends for so long, it didn’t really bother me. He was so sure it was purely platonic between them. But after the way she acted at lunch, and then at the pizza shop the next day? There’s a reason she doesn’t like me, and it’s because Ryan’s with me and not her. I just don’t understand why he can’t see it.”

She shakes her head slightly. “I think at this point in their friendship, she's so deep in the friend-zone that he’s walking around blind. Have you guys talked about it recently?”

“No. I feel like I’m banging my head against a wall when I bring it up. He just says the same thing over and over. There’s no point. And...” I hesitate.

“And?” she asks before turning her head back towards Emma.

“And I’m scared that if I push him on it... if I make him choose... he’ll choose her.”

She stays silent for a moment before saying, “So, you can lecture him on being open and honest with you, but you don’t have to do the same?”

My eyes widen in surprise. “Damn, girl.”

She laughs and turns her gaze back to me. “If you want him to communicate, Mol, communicate.”

I let her words replay in my head a few times before nodding in agreement. “You’re right.”

She winks at me. “I know.”

23

RYAN

“Cheers, mate,” I say to Nick, the bartender atBreweryLane, as he passes me my beer. Beckett does the same.

“Booth?” he asks, turning to me.

I nod in reply, and we both head towards the back of the pub, further away from the sound system, currently blaring “Jelly Legs” by Children Collide.

My younger brother, Walker, opened this place last month, and it’s fucking booming. It’s only one suburb over from Mawson Lakes, and people are going crazy for it.

I dig the rustic vibe he’s going for. Dark mahogany driftwood-style bar tables lightly fill the space, leaving just enough room between them to walk. The lighting is dim, but the booths that run along the back wall are all illuminated by battery-operated lanterns and lined with black leather upholstery. The bar itself is fucking magnificent. It’s at least ten meters long and matches the tables perfectly. It was the first thing he had made when he decided he wanted to open a bar and then designed the rest of the room around it. The matching liquor cabinets are filled with top-shelf booze, and he’s got a huge selection of craft beers on tap. I'm proud of him, honestly.

As we sit, Beckett pulls his phone out of his back pocket, frowns down at it, and puts it on the table, screen up. “You heard from Molly, yet?” he asks, taking a sip of his pint and looking up at me.

“Nah, not yet. Jess will be here soon, though,” I reply.

He rolls his eyes and huffs into his glass. He doesn’t like her. He’s made that very obvious. It’s honestly surprising. Most guys love Jess. Beckett basically ignores her when she stops by the shop, or he leaves and goes out to eat. He loves Mol, though, so hopefully having her here tonight will keep him from being a dick.

It’s been just over a month since we slept together for the first time, and it’s been smooth sailing since the text-message incident. I’m so fucking happy that it makes my head spin.

“Did you start the sketches for that demon sleeve?” Beckett asks, changing the subject.

I shake my head. “Not yet. It’ll come to me.”

He nods, and his phone lights up, grabbing his attention. He picks it up, grins and starts tapping out a reply.

“You ready to tell me about Penny yet?” I ask, knowing she’s the reason he’s smiling he's just won the bloody lottery.

His eyes snap to mine, and he raises an eyebrow in question.

“I know something’s going on, Beck. You think I don’t see you messaging her all-goddamn day? You come back from your lunch break with a Coffee Leaf Cafe cup most afternoons. I don’t know why you’re hiding it, man...”

He clears his throat and shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “We’re, uh, seeing each other, I guess.”

“You guess?”

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