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)
She’s been here every day since the injury, taking care of me like it’s her full-time job. I didn’t ask her to.
Hell, I tried to tell her she didn’t need to. But Molly, being Molly, ignored me and moved herself in anyway, which is fine by me. If it were up to me, she’d never leave.
“Hey,” she says without turning around. “How was practice?”
“Decent.” That’s the best I can do. Anything else would be a lie.
Molly turns to face me. “What happened?”
She scrunches her nose as she stares at me.
“Well, it was kind of weird, though. Dane was acting like my personal bodyguard.”
Her hand stops moving, and the spoon clinks against the pot.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, he didn’t let anyone near me.” I lean against the counter. “It’s like—”
“Like what?”
“Like he was blocking only me.”
She shrugs. “Maybe he’s just being protective. You know how he is.”
“Yeah,” I say slowly, watching her carefully. “It’s just . . . different. Even for him.”
Molly finally looks at me, her face neutral. “Maybe subconsciously he could tell you weren’t at your best.”
It feels like she’s leaving something out.
What?
I have no clue, but it feels that way.
About twenty minutes later, we finally sit down for dinner. While we eat, neither of us speaks. It’s quiet, the only sound is that of the spoons clinking the bowls.
Something is definitely off with Molly, though.
She’s been quieter than usual, her focus entirely on her food.
“You’re not eating much.” I glance at her half-empty bowl.
“Neither are you,” she shoots back, raising an eyebrow.
I chuckle, leaning back in my chair. “Touché.”
She gives me a small smile, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.
Interesting.
Later, as I sit on the couch icing my arm, Molly brings me a cup of water and sits beside me. She doesn’t say anything; she just tucks her legs under her and stares at the TV.
“What’s going on with you?” I ask.
“Just tired,” she responds.
“You sure?”
She nods, but I don’t believe her.
“Maybe it’s me.” I nudge her. “Maybe I’m too high maintenance. You don’t have to take care of me, you know.”
She turns to me, her brow furrowed. “I want to.”
I don’t know what to say. “Thank you,” finally slips out, but my voice is quieter than I intended.
She smiles, and this time, it feels real. “You’d do the same for me.”
“Yeah,” I say, leaning back against the couch. “I would.”
The silence settles around us.
Comfortable.
Peaceful.
Everything I’ve ever wanted.
I don’t know what I did to deserve her, but I’m not about to question it.
90
Molly
The early morning sunlight streams in through the curtains. My eyes blink, confused about what day it is and why my alarm hasn’t gone off.
But then it all comes flooding back. Today is the first time in years that I don’t have an alarm clock set or a list of things I need to do.
No. Today is my first day of being unemployed.
There’s no checklist.
No emails to answer.
No schedule to organize.
There’s nothing.
It feels odd.
I’m actually at a loss for how I feel.
On the one hand, it’s nice to be able to catch a few extra hours of z’s, but on the other, now what do I do with my life?
Who am I, if not Dane’s assistant?
Flipping over in the bed, I look at Hudson’s spot—it’s empty.
I’m all alone.
Hudson probably left a few hours ago for practice.
Grabbing my robe, I throw it on, head downstairs, and grab a cup of coffee before taking a seat. The house is quiet except for the soft hum of the fridge in the kitchen. I sit at the table drinking.
I should feel relieved.
Then why don’t I?
This is a blessing.
Then why doesn’t it feel that way?
For years, I’ve worked tirelessly for Dane, putting his needs above my own.
Now, I finally have a chance to focus on myself. To figure out what I want.
But the truth is, I have no idea where to start.
The first day is the hardest. After I get dressed, I leave the house with no destination in mind, just walking aimlessly down the quiet streets of Hudson’s neighborhood.
The air is cool, and the early fall leaves crunch beneath my boots as I walk.
I used to dream about what it would be like not to work for Dane.
Now I’m scared to find out.
Sure, I haven’t worked for him for a few days here and there, but never more than two months.
What do I do now?
Where do I work?
I stop at a small park and sit on a bench.
A group of kids play, their laughter so loud I can’t help but smile.
When was the last time I felt that carefree?
I can’t remember.
No. That’s not true.
At the farm.
At the rink.
With Hudson.
All the days blur since Dane fired me.
Sometimes I end up at the same park. Other times, I find myself wandering through shops. I walk a lot. Never a destination in sight. Hudson doesn’t ask what I do all day, and I don’t offer. He has his own shit to worry about. Like his wrist.