Page 67 of Molly

He shakes his head. “No, baby. You stay here, get some sleep. I'll come back when I'm done. I could be late though, I don't know the extent of the damage. They just said it was bad.”

I nod and walk over to the rattan key holder I have mounted on the wall next to the fridge. I unhook my spare set and hold them out for Ryan to take. “Text me when you get there, okay? Let me know that you’re okay and how the shop is. If you need me, I’ll be right there.”

He lifts his lips slightly on one side, reaches out, and grabs my wrist, pulling me to his chest. He kisses the top of my head and takes a deep breath before whispering, “Okay, baby. I love you.”

???

I sit in bed waiting, staring at my phone, hoping he replies. It's 1:00AM. He left over five hours ago, and he hasn't responded to any of my messages.

I unlock it and pull up my chat with the girls. I explained what happened to Evie earlier, but Penny hasn't responded yet. She didn't answer when I called, either.

ME: He still hasn't messaged me. Should I be worried? Should I go over there?

Evie replies almost instantly, but Penny still isn’t showing up as online.

EVIE: I'm sure he's fine. Don’t stress, girl. He would have had to call the cops and make a report. Probably hasn't had time to check his phone.

ME: Yeah? You think so?

EVIE: Yeah. I wouldn't worry.

ME: You’re probably right. Why are you up anyway? Sorry if I woke you...

EVIE: I'm waiting up for Penny. She said she was going out earlier and hasn't come home yet. Isn’t that right @Penny?

That's odd...

ME: @Penny, where are you?

EVIE: Get some sleep, Mol.

ME: Alright, sweets. Call me if you need me. My phone will be on loud in case Ryan calls, anyway. @Penny - let us know you're alive, woman.

EVIE: <3

I toss my phone onto my bedside table and huff. Maybe I should try to get some sleep. Hedidsay he'd be home late. He's got a key. Yeah. He'll be fine.

I shuffle down the bed, pull the covers up to my chin, and stare at the ceiling until my eyes start to droop, and I finally fall asleep.

37

RYAN

Jesus Christ. This place is trashed.

All the portraits that once hung on the wall are broken and thrown all over the floor, surrounded by shattered glass. Papers from the front counter are torn to shreds and scattered around the room like confetti. The coffee table is smashed, leaving only the wooden stumps the pane of glass sat on.

What the fuck?

I lean down, pick up the drawing of Emma and remove it from the busted frame. I fold it up and tuck it in my back pocket.

The front door opens and in walks Beckett.Holy shit.I can smell the alcohol on his breath from here. His white t-shirt is ripped and stained with blood, and he’s sporting one hell of a black eye.

I step forward cautiously. “Beck, man, are you... okay?”

He shakes his head. “Not even a little bit.”

“What the fuc-”

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