Page 75 of Molly

“Leave me alone, Beckett,” I groan into the couch cushion. He’s crouched down next to me, his face level with mine. God knows how he got in here. I’m drunk, really drunk, and when I open my eyes to look at him, I swear I see three of his ugly mug.

“Not letting you drown your sorrows anymore, bud. Let you go for too long. It’s been a week. It’s time to get up, get your shit together and get your girls back.”

“She doesn’t want me, Beck. She hates me. Won’t answer my calls, my texts, nothing. She won’t answer her door. Penny and Evie won’t let me through the front door at Coffee Leaf. What else do you want me to do?”

He grabs my face with his huge hand and holds it so that I have no choice but to make eye contact. “I want you to stop feeling sorry for yourself and get off the fucking couch. Sober the fuck up and take responsibility for your actions. I told you this shit would happen. Molly told you this shit would happen. You ignored us, and now you’re facing the consequences. Man up, Ryan. You want your family? Fucking fight for them. This is pathetic. You’re pathetic right now,” he snaps. He releases his hold on my face, stands to his full height, and looks down at me. At least there’s only two of him now. “Why is there a fucking dead plant sitting on the coffee table?” he asks, eyeing off the wilted peace lily that Molly gave me.

“She’s not dead. She’s being dramatic. I’ll water her in a second,” I snap.

“Fuck me, seriously? Whatever. I’ll be back tomorrow at nine. You better be up, sober and dressed.” He looks around the room again, disgust on his face, before walking down the hall and slamming the front door behind him.

???

It’s 8:55AM, and I’m sitting on the couch, sober as the day I was born. It sucks, and I wish I wasn’t, because everything feels a lot worse right now than it did yesterday. And that’s really saying something.

I hear the front door open and know it’s Beckett by the heavy footsteps coming down the hall. I still have no idea how he got a key to my house, but that’s a question for later. He comes into the room looking smug.

“I see you took my advice, mate,” he says.

“Looks like it.”

He sits on the coffee table in front of me and rests his forearms on his thighs so that his face is at eye level with mine. “Now, how are we going to get your woman back?”

“I don’t know what else I can do, Beck.”

He smirks. “If I’ve learnt anything from Penny, it’s that words don’t mean shit when you fuck up. If you’re sorry, you’ve got to show it. Have you been doing that, Ryan? Or have you been sitting here, drinking yourself stupid, feeling sorry for yourself?”

Honestly, a bit of both...

“Wait, what did you say?” I sit up straight, his words snapping my brain into gear.

If you’re sorry, you’ve got to show it...

“You know anything about baking?” I ask.

43

MOLLY

“Mol, you got a sec?” I jump as the deep voice rumbles behind me. I spin and almost run straight into Beckett's chest.

Of course, he finds me the second I walk into work to find a missing order form. I’ve been working from home, trying to avoid this. I knew Beck would come and try to defend his best friend. I respect that, cos God knows I’d do the same, but I also don’t want to hear it.

“Oh, um yeah. Sure, Beck. You want to come out back?” I reply.

He nods, and I lead him through the café to the staff room. He takes a seat, barely fitting his legs under the table as he scoots forward, resting his forearms in front of him. He looks so out of place in here. Big, bad, Beckett against a light pink backdrop. I’d laugh under different circumstances.

I take the chair to the side of him, both of us with a clear view of the hallway. “Is he okay?” I ask, jumping right in.

He shakes his head slightly as he meets my gaze. “Not really. He's a bit of a mess. Hasn’t been coming into work, spends all day cooped up in his house. Wallowing in his misery, I guess,” he replies, his voice low.

I know the feeling. I pick at my fingernail under the table, unsure what to say. Beckett obviously realises I'm uncomfortable and keeps talking. “Look, I'm not here to tell you to forgive him. I told him the same thing you did about Jess more than once. He was an idiot, no denying it, but he's also my best mate. He's a good guy. He made some mistakes. He knows that, and for what it’s worth, he really did crash on the couch the night Jess claims she was at his place.”

I sigh and nod. “Look, he probably did. We’ll never know. But he could have texted me, called me, anything. He showed me the text he forgot to press send on, but that wasn’t until 4:00AM. God knows what he was doing before that.”

“Mol. I was... going through something. He had my back, picked up the slack, and sorted the shop. I wasn’t really coherent by the time I got there.” He looks down at the table, chewing the inside of his cheek, a frown forming. “The cameras...” he whispers to himself before digging around in his pocket and pulling out his phone.

I sit there, unsure what he’s doing, as he taps away furiously. He watches his screen for a moment before sliding it across the table. A video plays, showing Ryan standing in the shop, talking to a man in a security uniform, while Beckett sits on the couch. Fuck, the shop looks wrecked. I look back up at Beckett and say, “Okay, so he was there...”

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