I didn’t miss how she changed the subject, avoiding the questions I asked about her. But, I decided not to point it out. “Lia was with Nate. And Jules…” I paused, not knowing what to say. “Jules was Lia’s other best friend, Nate was mine. The four of us were together a lot anyway, so it seemed like the natural thing to do.” Jesus, that was a lame answer. “You didn’t know Julie back then. She was different.”

“So she wasn’t a spiteful bitch when you were kids?”

I chuckled. “Probably. But I didn’t see her that way. She was sweet to me, a great friend to Lia, and hot as fuck.”

“Ugh. Such a typical man.” She groaned. “I just don’t see it. You’re…” She trailed off.

“I’m what?” I probed when she didn’t continue.

“Nice. A decent human being. Too good for someone like her.”

“I wasn’t then,” I admitted without thinking. I wasn’t trying to defend Julie, but for some reason, I needed Molly to know the whole truth. “I’m the dick who joined the Navy and never planned on coming back for his high school girlfriend, even though I’d promised I would. I was going to see the world, sleep my way around the globe, and avoid her at all costs when I came home to visit.”

“I’ve missed a step. How did you end up married?”

“I refused her calls, telling myself she’d realize we were over eventually. Until she wrote to me to tell me she was pregnant.”

“Oh.” She dragged the word out, realization dawning as she spoke. “You got married because of Jake.”

“God, no. I got married for Jake. I married her because my kid wasn’t going to grow up wondering if he or she was good enough.” I’d never told anyone the truth before, even though I was sure Gram and Lee had realized the connection long ago. “I joined the Navy because I idolized Lee’s dad and the country needed more men like him. He knocked up Lia’s mom when they were still in high school, so it was like history repeating itself. They never got married and he left as soon as he found something better. I sure as shit wasn’t gonna be the dick who abandoned his kid when the next best thing came along.” Of course, I never imagined that Julie would do exactly that, but I left that part out.

“Wow.” Yeah, wow. I’d just taken a sip of my Coke when she asked her next question. “So the fact that you were in love with Lia never mattered to her? Julie married you even though you were obviously in love with someone else?”

I coughed, choking on my soda, making it dribble out of my nose. Fuck that stung. “What?”

“Don’t act so surprised. It’s not like it’s a secret.”

I could have lied. I could have denied it. If it hadn’t been just Mols and me, maybe I would have. But I couldn’t bring myself to do either. “I didn’t realize my feelings were common knowledge.”

“Please.” Molly snorted. “A giant billboard would be less obvious.”

Fuck. “It’s not what you think.”

“It never is,” she agreed. “So tell me.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything.”

There hadn’t been much traffic and we were making good time, yet a glance at the TomTom showed me that we still had almost six hours left together before we got to Keene. I felt like I could tell her anything, even the truths I tried to hide from myself, and Molly wouldn’t judge. So I started at the beginning, back when Lee and I were just babies.

Molly listened as I talked, laughing at the funny parts, trying to hide the tears in her eyes at the depressing parts, and at some point, she reached over and took my hand. I didn’t pull away, but instead, laced my fingers with hers and settled our joined hands on the center console, comforted by the simple gesture.

Chapter Nine

~ Molly ~

I’d known Mike for years, and there were many descriptive words I could use to describe him. Bossy. Tall. Muscular. Handsome. Bossy. Cocky. Confident. Proud. Bossy. Brooding. Impatient. Nice. Bossy. Loyal. Trustworthy. Safe. Bossy.

Talkative, adorable, and sexy as hell were never things that entered my mind where he was concerned. Until recently. Staring at him now, watching him talk as the sun rose, listening to stories from his childhood and then more about his son, I felt like I was seeing him for the first time.

It’s funny how you can know someone and not really know a thing about them. We all have a list of people we call friends, yet they’re really just acquaintances. How much do we really know about those people? How much do we let them know about us?

If you counted friends by the number of people who knew me, really knew me, I only had one. Nate. He knew every piece of my history, not because he was there to experience it with me, but because he dragged it out of me. In return, he told me his, and a bond between two broken souls had been formed.

Mike was different, though. He wasn’t sharing his past so that I would share mine. He told me these things because I asked. When I avoided his questions, he didn’t get pissy and stay quiet himself, and didn’t hold my silence against me. He just kept talking, as if trying to distract me. That told me all I needed to know about the kind of person he was; when I was comfortable enough to share with him, he’d be right there waiting.

I’d known that Nate and Lia had a past. Everyone who had heard Nate’s songs knew he was still in love with the girl that got away. Those of us who were closest to him had seen the picture he carried around—the one of the redheaded girl laughing at the camera. When we’d get drunk, he’d tell stories about her, and admit to how much he wished she was still part of his life. Never once was I jealous of that girl.

When Lia and Nate reconnected last May, I was cautious of her. Only because I knew she didn’t understand the power she held over my friend. I didn’t trust her. I didn’t want to like her. Yet I was not envious of her.

Until now. Listening to Mike talk about her, realizing that he’d loved her, really loved her, brought out feelings I hadn’t had in a long time. For the first time, I wanted to have something Lia had. I wanted his face to light up when he talked about me the way it did when he spoke of her. I wanted him to get that look in his eyes, one of true adoration, when he thought about me. When his eyes found mine, I realized that I wanted him to see more than just an acquaintance or a friend.

Sighing, I looked out the window, saddened by how different everything seemed.

“What’s wrong, babe?” he asked immediately, cutting himself off midsentence.

“Nothing.”

“Come on”—he squeezed my hand with his—“don’t be like that. I can’t help if I don’t know what’s wrong.”

I turned back to him, meeting eyes that were filled with concern. I couldn’t admit what I was feeling without sounding like a teenager who had a crush on her best friend’s boyfriend; you know they’re never going to be together forever, but it’s the ultimate betrayal to like him anyway. So I voiced the other thing that had been nagging me. “I haven’t been home in a long time.”

“How long is long?”

I didn’t have to think about it to know. I could give him an exact number, broken down into years, weeks, and days. Hell, I could probably do hours and minutes, too. But I couldn’t admit that out loud. “Eleven years.”

Mike let out a low whistle. “That’s a long ass time, kid.”

I nodded, not offering any more information. It was stupid. We’d be there in a half hour, so I should just tell him. Yet the words didn’t come.

Mike broke the silence a few minutes later. “Mols, this may sound like a dumb question, but I’ve been driving a long time and need a bed. Plus, I haven’t showered in a few days”—he shot me a wink—“but if you haven’t been there in over a decade, is there even running water and electricity hooked up?”

“Oh, my gosh! Yes!” I hadn’t thought about how it might sound. “Sorry. I haven’t been there in a long time, but it is lived in.”