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 looks away. “It’s done, Hudson. Can we not make a big deal out of it?”
“A big deal?” I repeat. “You gave up everything for me, and you don’t want to make a big deal out of it?”
“It’s not everything,” she says, but her voice trembles, giving her away. It is. “It’s just a job. I’ll figure something else out.”
I shake my head, closing the distance between us. “Molly, you didn’t have to do that. I didn’t want you to do that.”
“I know.” Her eyes glisten with unshed tears. “But I did it anyway. Because I care about you. And because someone had to.”
Her words hit me like a punch to the gut.
I can’t speak.
“You’re unbelievable,” I say finally, my voice thick.
She frowns, confused. “What?”
“You’re unbelievable,” I repeat, stepping even closer. “You drive me crazy, Molly. You’re stubborn and frustrating, and you make me want to pull my hair out half the time. But you’re also the most selfless, infuriatingly wonderful person I’ve ever met.”
She blinks, her mouth opening slightly.
“And I love you for it,” I say, the words spilling out before I can stop them. “You beautiful, chaotic storm. You collided into me, flipped my world upside down, and made it feel like home. I love you, Molly. Every maddening, incredible part of you.”
Her eyes widen, and she stares at me like she can’t believe what I just said.
“You . . . you love me?” she whispers.
I nod, my chest tightening. “Yeah. I do. And if you think for a second that I’m going to let you keep sacrificing yourself for me, I won’t.”
Her expression becomes more serious. “I love you too.”
“Yeah, obviously.”
Her lips twitch, and she lets out a laugh. “You’re such a pain in the ass.”
“Takes one to know one.” I grin.
She laughs again, and it’s the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard.
“So,” I say, glancing down. “What’s the deal with this little guy?”
“It’s a she. And she doesn’t have a name yet.” Molly scratches behind the dog’s ears.
“No name?” I say, mock scandalized. “Well, we’ve got to fix that.”
She raises an eyebrow. “What do you suggest?”
“Hmm.” I rub my chin, pretending to think. All the funny names Anna has come up with over the years as she begged for a dog come to mind. “How about . . . Fluffypants?”
Molly snorts. “Absolutely not.”
“Fine,” I say, smirking. “What about Bark Twain?” Anna came up with that one when she was eight. It was one of my favorites.
She groans, shaking her head. “You’re the worst.”
I grin, looking down at the dog. “All right, Twinkie, it is.”
Molly pauses, her hand stilling on the dog’s head. “Twinkie?”
“Yeah,” I say, my smile softening. “You know, like the ones we ate during the tornado. The ones that kept us alive.”
She stares at me for a moment, then bursts out laughing. “Okay, Twinkie it is.”
The dog wags her tail, clearly approving of the name.
And as Molly leans into my side, her head resting against my shoulder, I realize that this—her, me, Twinkie . . .
It feels like home.
93
Hudson
When I get home today from practice, I find Molly sitting cross-legged on the couch.
I expect to find Twinkie on her lap. Instead, she has her laptop balanced there.
Twinkie is on the cushion next to her, fast asleep, despite the sound of her fingers typing furiously.
She’s been like this every day for the past three days.
Every day since I told her the full extent of what’s going on at the farm.
Now, she searches for a solution to a problem that isn’t even hers to solve.
She hasn’t stopped trying to figure out a way to fix it—for me.
“Hudson,” she says, breaking the silence, and I expect her to tell me another idea.
“Yeah?”
She closes the laptop and sets it aside, her eyes locking on to mine. “I think you need to tell Coach.”
Um, where the hell did that come from?
I was sure I was safe from hockey talk because she’s been avoiding it, but fuck.
I shake my head. “Tell Coach? Yeah, that’s going to be a no.”
She sits up straighter. “Hudson, you can’t keep doing this. Hiding your injury, playing while hurt.”
I shake my head, standing and pacing the room. “You don’t understand, Molly. If Coach finds out I was working on the farm, I could lose everything. My spot on the team, my reputation—”
“Your health.” She cuts in. “You could lose your career permanently if you keep hiding this. Is that what you want?”
I stop pacing, my chest tightening. “Of course not.”
“Then you need to tell him.” She exhales. “Please, Hudson. Ask him for help. Tell him. I know you don’t know Robert like I do, but he’s a good man. A really good man.”
That’s easy for her to say. She’s known Coach Robert since she was a teen. The man is practically a father figure to her. To me . . . well, I’m the reckless player he wishes he could throw off the team.