Letters to Molly: Maysen Jar Series - Book 2

by Devney Perry

  Death and divorce.

  “Cole is a good sport,” I told Finn as we walked down the sidewalk toward his truck.

  Jamie had been so competitive, there’d been a few game nights in college where things had turned from fun to fight. But not Cole. He was competitive enough to present a challenge, but when he lost, which they had a lot tonight, he didn’t get angry.

  “Yeah, he is.” Finn opened the door for me and helped me inside.

  He’d picked me up tonight from home so we could ride here together. We both just assumed he’d be coming home with me. While I strapped on my seat belt, he closed the door and went around to his side, climbing in and getting us on the road.

  My head was light from all the wine and even a little dizzy. Tomorrow morning might be miserable, but it had been worth it.

  “What do you say we go to my place instead?”

  My face whipped to Finn’s profile. “What?”

  “I’d like to stay at my place for a change.”

  “Oh, uh . . .” I scrambled for an excuse. “I don’t have any of my stuff.”

  “What stuff?”

  “My toothbrush. Pajamas. Extra hair ties.” I only had one on my wrist, so I needed to go home for a second.

  “I’ve got an extra toothbrush. Kali has a pile of hair ties in the bathroom.” He met my gaze. “And you won’t need pajamas.”

  I didn’t have another excuse other than the truth. We’d had such a fun night, and I didn’t want to dive into this conversation.

  “Why won’t you come inside my house?” he asked gently.

  “Do we really have to talk about this tonight?”

  We approached a stop sign on Main Street. Taking a right led to my house. A left to his.

  He answered my question by turning left.

  My shoulders sagged. “It’s your home.”

  “Exactly. What’s wrong with my home? The kids live there fifty percent of the time.”

  “No.” I shook my head. “You don’t understand. It’s your home.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying, it’s your home. A home you created without me. We’ve broken so many boundaries these past few weeks. This one, I need this one, Finn. It’s your home. Your place. Not mine.”

  This line was one I would not cross. Because if I walked into his house and fell in love with the rooms he’d set up for the kids, or the way it felt to sleep beneath his sheets, it would be even harder to shore up that boundary when this was over.

  Finn drove in silence for a few more blocks. My heart was in my throat, wondering if the end was closer than I’d thought this morning. But then he flipped his turn signal, taking us around a block until we were stopped at another intersection.

  This time, he turned right.

  Toward my house.

  “Thank you,” I whispered.

  Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was the fact that he hadn’t argued but had listened to me and heard what I was saying, but tears flooded my eyes. In the quiet and dark cab, one dripped down my cheek.

  If Finn saw it fall, he didn’t say a word. But he did stretch his arm across the empty seat between us, beckoning me closer.

  I took the invitation, unbuckling and flipping up the console to slide over into his side. Finn always insisted that all Alcott trucks have a center seat because more often than not, a crew of workers would pile inside. One bench seat saved a six-person crew from taking two vehicles.

  I was glad for it. I curled into his side and his arm wound around my shoulders. And I murmured another, “Thank you.”

  “What was I thinking? We have a mailbox to stake out.”

  “True.”

  Though at the moment, I didn’t want the letters to stop, because I had a sinking feeling that once they did, Finn and I would stop too.

  - LETTER -

  Darling Molly,

  * * *

  It’s four o’clock in the morning. I haven’t slept for more than two hours in a row for five days. You’re passed out right now in bed and I should be next to you. But before I can sleep, I have to get this out.

  * * *

  You’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever met. I didn’t think I could love you more, but then I watched you bring Kali into this world. Nineteen hours. No drugs. And you didn’t scream, not once. Amazing. The pain on your face looked unbearable, but you held tight because you didn’t want the first sound our daughter heard to be your cries. It was the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen. And you’re so amazing with her. Breastfeeding hasn’t been going well. She isn’t sleeping. I can tell you’re sore because you wince every time you walk. But you haven’t dropped your amazing smile. How do you do that?

  * * *

  You’re amazing. I’m exhausted and can’t think of any other word right now for it. For you. But you’re amazing. I love you.

  * * *

  Yours,

  Finn

  Ten

  Finn

  “Do you like it?” Kali asked me as I chewed a bite of my taco.

  I nodded, swallowing before I smiled. “They’re great, sweetie. Nice job.”

  “Great? Or amazing,” Molly teased. “I think they’re amazing.”

  I shot her a glare as I took another bite.

  I was never going to live down that last goddamn letter. I’d written it in a state of delirium. It was the one letter I’d fully intended to give to Molly as I’d scribbled the words. After I’d folded it up and left it on the office desk, I’d gone to bed that night with a stupid smile on my face.

  Everything I’d written was true. Molly was amazing and I’d never forget those first two sleep-deprived weeks after Kali was born.

  The next day, I woke up and went to get the letter to give to Molly, but then I reread it. Amazing had been in almost every damn sentence, so I didn’t give her the letter. I hurried to stow it away with the others so she’d never find it. Instead, I told her how amazing she was.

  I told her while she was in the rocking chair in Kali’s room. They’d both been relaxed and sleepy, but awake, staring into one another’s eyes.

  I sat on the floor by the chair, took Molly’s free hand and told her how brave she was. How selfless. How strong. The words I hadn’t been able to come up with the night before were much easier after a few hours of sleep.

  But ever since the letter had shown up in her mailbox yesterday, she’d been teasing me relentlessly with the word amazing.

  “These are really good, Kali,” Max told her, his cheeks bulging with his own bite.

  She blushed, holding her own taco. “Thanks.”

  While Max and I had worked in the yard tonight, Molly and Kali had made the tacos. Molly had given Kali credit for the meal.

  My kids are amazing.

  That thought crossed my mind at least once a day. I might overuse amazing, but it was accurate in this case. They awed me. They left me wondering how in the hell they’d turned out so good when half of each week they were left with me.

  It was Molly. Her goodness had seeped into them from the beginning.

  “I’m glad you guys are back,” Molly said. “It’s too quiet around here without you.”

  The kids had flown in on Friday night with my parents, just in time for the anniversary celebration at the restaurant yesterday. The celebration had been a raging success, like the parties from each year before. And since Poppy and Molly had both worked for nearly twenty hours straight to make sure it went off without a hitch, they’d each taken today off before returning on Monday.

  I’d spent my Sunday morning at home, working on my laptop at the dining room table while Molly was home with the kids. Then when I couldn’t stand the idea of being alone any longer, I’d driven over, not caring if she had plans or wanted time with only the kids. I’d come under the guise of working on her yard, when really, I’d missed Kali and Max.

  And Molly.

  After two weeks of sleeping in her bed each night, I’d been tossing and turning in my own bed
because I hadn’t had my pillow.

  “What did you do while we were gone?” Max asked.

  “Don’t talk with your mouth full,” I told him quietly.

  He nodded and chewed faster before repeating his question. “What did you do while we were with Grandma and Grandpa?”

  What did we do while they were gone? Each other.

  “Oh, not too much.” Molly’s eyes flicked to mine.

  We’d spent the last week on mailbox stakeout duty, which was really nothing more than occasionally looking at it from the window or spending our evenings on the front porch instead of inside.

  We were awful at surveillance, probably because we’d get antsy sitting on the porch, mere inches away from one another. The tension would grow thick, the air hot, and we’d retreat to the comfort of Molly’s cool bedroom sheets.

  Which was how the last letter had come and we still had no clue who’d dropped it off.

  “We actually went and had a game night with Aunt Poppy and Uncle Cole,” I told the kids.

  “Who won?” Kali asked. My sweet girl had a competitive streak.

  I chuckled. “We did. Duh.”

  Max grinned and high-fived me. “Nice.”

  We spent the rest of the meal hearing more about the kids’ trip to Alaska, then we all went outside to toss a Frisbee around in the yard before they had to go to bed.

  Not once throughout the night did they ask me when I was going home. They didn’t ask what I was doing over at their house.

  “Thanks for dinner,” I told Molly as we loaded the remaining dishes into the dishwasher. After dinner, we’d left them in the sink so we could spend the evening outside before the sun set.

  “No problem. I’m glad we could both see the kids tonight. I missed them.”

  “Me too.” I put the last glass into the top rack and closed the door. “Should I go?”

  She glanced in the direction of the stairs. “I don’t know. They start camp tomorrow, and they’re both excited. I doubt they’ll wake up too early, but I don’t want to push our luck.”

  “Yeah,” I muttered. “I don’t want to leave.”

  Molly came to lean against the counter at my side, speaking in a hushed voice. “I don’t want you to leave. But . . .”

  “I know. The kids can’t know I’ve been sleeping in their mother’s bed.”

  We could tell them until we were blue in the face that we weren’t getting back together, but if they caught us, it would send a completely different message.

  “Should we just end this now?” she asked.

  I stiffened. The immediate answer was no. Hell no. I didn’t want to give this up. But logic began to creep in, like a fog dulling the sunlight.

  This was going to end at some point. Molly and I weren’t getting back together, so this fling would eventually expire.

  “I don’t want to,” I whispered. “I’m not ready yet. Are you?”

  She didn’t hesitate. “Not even close.”

  Our eyes locked, holding one another captive. Hers were so expressive and hungry. There was something beneath the lust, something familiar, but I couldn’t place it.

  Once, years ago, Molly and I could carry on entire conversations with our eyes alone. But that was before we’d learned to hide things from one another—before I started keeping my problems from her, and she started hiding her true feelings from me.

  I didn’t try to solve that look. This wasn’t about Molly and me working things out as a married couple. It was about sex.

  Only sex.

  I leaned closer to her, dropping my chin so my cheek brushed against her hair. It was pulled up into a messy knot, but some of the tendrils had escaped since dinner, dangling loose toward her neck.

  Molly drifted my way, her breaths coming faster. The air in the kitchen crackled with anticipation.

  “Kiss me.”

  She gave me a slight nod, rising up on her toes.

  I dipped, my breath coasting down her cheek, but then I remembered where we were. “Wait. Not here.”

  She huffed when I pulled away, taking a few deep breaths as I took her hand and dragged her down the hallway to her bedroom. The second we were away from the stairs—with the door closed and out of danger that one of the kids would walk in on us—I framed her face with my hands and slammed my lips down on hers. I swallowed her gasp and let my hands roam from her face and down her shoulders. I pulled her closer, needing to feel her against me.

  Her hands went for my fly, tugging the button on my jeans open to dive inside. The feel of her grip, those long fingers wrapped around my shaft, was so incredible I nearly blacked out.

  How was it possible for us to go so wrong? We were good together. So. Fucking. Good.

  “Finn,” she moaned into my mouth, her tongue sliding along the seam of my bottom lip. Her fist wrapped around my shaft tighter, stroking the velvet flesh inside my jeans. “More.”

  I pulled her closer, my hands everywhere. Under her shirt. In her hair. Palming her ass. I couldn’t find the right spot. The right grip so I wouldn’t lose her.

  “I can’t . . . I need . . .” She let go of my cock and her fingers fumbled for the zipper. She got it down and then shoved at the hem of my shirt. “Closer. Get closer.”

  I reached behind my head and jerked off my shirt. Before my skin could even register the cool air, her hands were on me, leaving a hot trail as they traveled up and down my chest and stomach.

  Next came her shirt in a swish of cotton sailing toward the hardwood floor. Only then did I get closer. I wrapped my arms around her body, letting my hands dive underneath her panties.

  Molly hissed as the rough tips of my fingers bit into her soft curves. But she gave as good as she got, her nails scratching up my spine as I walked us backward toward the bed.

  Jeans were lost along the way, hands only breaking contact for split seconds to rip and tug ourselves bare.

  When the backs of my knees hit the bed, I hoisted us both onto the mattress, scooting myself toward the headboard.

  Molly followed on her knees, her breasts heavy, her nipples peaked and tight. Then she gave me a wicked grin that went straight to my balls. “I want to ride you.”

  “Climb on up, darling.”

  Darling. I’d let that slip, but she didn’t seem to notice. With her knees bracketing my hips, she fisted my cock again, dragging it through her slit.

  “Fuck, you’re soaked.”

  “Hmm.” Her head lulled to the side as she took my tip and rolled it against her clit. The shudder that ran through her body shook the bed. She did it again, using my cock to work herself up.

  As much as I wanted to watch her get herself off on me, I was losing control. Her scent surrounded me. The heady smell of sex was in the air, and I needed her pussy. I sat up straight, taking her hips in my grip. Her eyes popped open, dark and dizzy. Drunk.

  With one thrust of my hips, I filled her.

  “Oh, fuck.” I fell backward, letting her tight heat squeeze me as she cried out my name.

  I held her in place, her entire body tense as she waited to adjust around my size. When she was ready, she opened her eyes.

  “Good?”

  Her eyes twinkled. “Amazing.”

  My deep chuckle filled the room, then she dropped her hands to my shoulders and moved.

  I held on to her hips with a light grip, ready to help if she got tired, but she was in control. She set the pace. And she rode me until we were both glistening and breathless.

  Every muscle in my body was strained—my balls were tight, ready to empty into Molly’s luscious body. But as she closed her eyes, a furrow between her eyebrows, I knew there was something going on in her head. Something was keeping her from letting go.

  With one hand, I latched on to a nipple. With the other, I strummed her clit with the pad of my thumb.

  Her eyes shot open. They locked on mine.

  “Finn,” she whimpered.

  “Come. Come with me.”

  That was all i
t took. A gravelly order and she exploded, her head falling back, that gorgeous hair spilling from its loose tie. It cascaded down her back, rubbing against my thighs.

  And as she clenched around me, pulse after pulse, I stopped fighting my own release. I poured myself into her, shooting long and hard until I was wrecked and limp.

  Molly fell on top of me, that hair draping around us like a blanket. My hands wound into the spirals, each finger claiming a few strands of its own to twirl.

  Where did we go wrong?

  The question rushed into my mind, taking the spotlight away from anything else. Where had we gone wrong? How could we be this good and lose it all? How could we throw this away?

  The fights. The missed dinners. The nights we went to bed, our backs turned on one another.

  The other man.

  Just the thought of her with another man made me queasy. I rolled her to the side, sliding out to sit and swing my legs over the bed.

  “Is everything okay?”

  I glanced over my shoulder, Molly’s flushed face and tousled hair a sight I’d once thought was mine and mine alone. She’d shared that with one other man. Were there more? My stomach rolled again.

  “Finn?”

  I blinked out of my stupor. “I’ll get a washcloth. Hang tight.”

  She fell into the pillows as I stood and walked to the bathroom on shaking legs.

  I hadn’t let myself think of the other man in years. Each time I did I felt sick. The night she’d told me about it, I’d puked for an hour when she’d finally left me alone. But that was years ago. It wasn’t supposed to still shock me this much. It wasn’t supposed to still hurt.

  I splashed some cold water on my face in the bathroom, waiting a few minutes until the ache in my chest went away. I stared at my face in the mirror and remembered what this fling was about.