Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 139259 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 696(@200wpm)___ 557(@250wpm)___ 464(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 139259 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 696(@200wpm)___ 557(@250wpm)___ 464(@300wpm)
Cassidy: We’ll bring snacks and bail money.
Molly: I appreciate you idiots.
Cassidy: Anytime.
Cassidy: Now, seriously, does Hudson know how to say “I do,” or did he just nod like an overconfident frat boy?
Molly: I’m leaving this chat.
Josie: 😂 That’s not a denial.
Cassidy: We’ll take that as confirmation.
Molly: I’m blocking you both.
Josie: Love you too, Mrs. Wilde.
Cassidy: Forever and always.
70
Hudson
The gravel of the driveway crunches under the tires of my Mustang. We probably should have driven Molly’s car, but since we hauled ass out of Redville right after I rescued her, there was no time to go back to her place.
Driving up this path in my car always makes me cringe.
A paved road would be so much better for my car. Not that I can change it.
They can’t afford it, and although I have offered, they will never take my money.
It’s annoying as all hell.
I work hard, and I just want to help them.
But as we pull up to my parents’ farmhouse, the sight of it never fails to hit me in the chest, even after all these years.
It’s the same house I grew up in, but now it’s weathered by years of neglect. I wish my father and mother weren’t so prideful.
The small and quaint house has faded white paint and a wraparound porch that faces the soybean fields.
“This is where you grew up?” Molly’s been quiet since we left the main road, her eyes fixed on the scenery.
“It is.”
“It’s beautiful.”
I narrow my eyes and shake my head as I roll to a stop. Is she seeing what I’m seeing?
The peeling siding.
The roof begging to be replaced.
Now, as I turn off the engine, she leans forward in her seat, her gaze sweeping over the house, the barn, and the fields in the distance.
“Crop farming?”
“Yeah, soybeans.”
“I didn’t even know that was something people grow out here.”
I turn to face her. “It’s actually one of the most prominent crops grown in Illinois.”
Her lips curve into a smile. “The more you know,” she jokes. “Well, it’s beautiful. When I was a girl, and I used to have panic attacks, I would imagine myself no longer in the—” She stops herself, and I wonder what she was going to say. Her jaw looks tighter, but then she exhales and looks back out toward the property. “I used to imagine myself going to a farm like this. In the dream, I’d sit under a large tree, sun in my face, wind blowing my hair, and I’d be drinking a big glass of lemonade.”
“That’s pretty specific.”
“It was a good dream.” She looks wistful, and I want to give her that dream.
I want to make her happy.
The realization hits me in the gut. My head starts to spin with what that means for the future and how I can give her everything she wants.
An idea comes to me, a crazy one.
Maybe this is where I can help her.
Maybe this is the place to make Molly’s dreams come true.
“Come on.” I open the door, then walk around until I’m by her side, opening hers wider for her before reaching my arm out and grabbing her hand until she’s standing outside the car.
“Hudson, I’m capable of getting out of a car.”
“Yeah, I know. But you’re my wife.”
“Is it because your mom is peeking out the window and watching us?” Molly groans, and I laugh.
“Of course it is.”
Stepping around to the back of the car, I pop the trunk and grab our bags. “Let’s get inside before Mom bans us from eating dessert since we are late.”
“Would she do that?”
“Hell yeah, she would. She wields the control over who gets her famous cookie bar like a power-hungry demon.”
Molly laughs. “That’s mean.”
I shrug. “It’s the truth. Wait. You’ll see. Dad is always in the doghouse; he never gets seconds.”
Molly laughs nervously, and I can’t help smiling. She’s out of her element, but she’s here. With me.
We aren’t even up the path to the main house when the screen door swings open. My mom steps out, her hands on her hips and a grin on her face.
She’s wearing her usual faded jeans and a T-shirt, this one with a giant soybean on her chest. Her hair is pulled back into a messy bun like she doesn’t have a care in the world.
I love that about my mom. She’s not one to change who she is for anyone else.
The king of England could be coming to our house for dinner, and she would still look and act the same.
“Hudson. Molly, you’re here. Finally.” Way to play it cool, Mom.
With Molly in tow, I climb the stairs and pull my mom into a hug. “Hey, Mom. You remember Molly?”
My mother swats me on the arm. “Of course, I remember my daughter-in-law.” I look back at Molly and see that she looks a little tense, but it’s short-lived because soon Molly is being pulled toward my mom, who’s hugging her like her life depends on it. “You know this is the most proud you ever made me, Hudson.”