by Jaci Burton
Chelsea waved her hand. "Don't be ridiculous. This way, your house won't sit empty while you're gone. The dogs will miss you both as it is, and I get to sit in a big house instead of my condo. It's a win for all of us."
Emma shot a smile to Chelsea. "Thank you for doing this."
"It's not a problem. Just don't expect me to vacuum up your dust bunnies."
Luke laughed. "God forbid."
"What about you, Molly?" Jane asked. "Are you heading back to Austin soon?"
"Tomorrow, actually."
"We're sure sorry to see you go," Will said. "It's been such a pleasure having you here."
Molly did her best to plant a genuine smile on her face. "Thank you. It's been fun to be in Hope again."
"Maybe you can start visiting more often," Chelsea said. "We have wicked fun girls' night out. We'd love to have you join us."
Emma nodded. "This is true. If you come home to visit, we'll schedule one when you're here."
"I travel a lot, too," Des said. "Maybe you can come up sometime when I'm in town and we can do girls' night then."
There was no way in hell Molly was ever coming back here. But she wasn't going to tell her sister--or her parents--in a roomful of people. "I'll definitely think about it. In the meantime, you all are welcome to come see me in Austin."
"Or wherever you end up next," Carter said, his gaze direct.
She didn't flinch, just met his gaze with a shrug. "I don't know. I like Austin. I might stay put for a while."
Carter's response was to arch a brow. That brow with the scar above it, the one she used to run her fingers over.
She shuddered, remembering oh-so-clearly those intimate moments they spent together, when he'd bring her fingertips to his lips, sucking each of them into his mouth until every part of her trembled. When he'd take her mouth in a kiss that made her dizzy. She'd learned so much about sex, about her own body, with him.
It was as if he knew exactly what she was thinking, because his green eyes went stormy dark.
"Excuse me." She pushed back from the table and went into the kitchen, leaned her hands on the sink, and looked out the window.
They were going to have forever together. A stupid teenage dream.
Back then it had felt so real. The looks they'd exchanged just a moment ago had felt just as real, and they weren't teenagers anymore.
Imagination. Just her imagination.
"What were you thinking about in there?"
She whipped around to find him standing just a few inches away from her.
"Nothing." She started to push past him, but he caught her hand.
"Molly."
She lifted her gaze to his. "Don't."
His thumb brushed her inner wrist, and her pulse kicked up. She didn't want to feel anything for him. She hated him.
She hated herself more, because she still did feel. And when he pulled her closer, she couldn't resist the draw.
"About last night. You did all the talking. There are a few things I want to say to you."
"Hey, Moll, I thought we might--"
With Emma's appearance, Carter took a step back, and so did Molly.
Carter took a deep breath. "I'm going to go talk to Luke."
He turned, grasped Emma by the shoulders, and planted a kiss on her cheek. "Really happy for you and Luke, Em." Then he left the room.
Emma frowned. "What was that all about?"
Shaking off the residual heat, she gave her sister an innocent look. "What was what all about?"
Emma crossed her arms. "Come on, Moll. You and Carter."
"There is no me and Carter. That was over a long time ago."
"Not from where I was standing. He had your hand, and you looked like you were about to kiss."
Molly let out a short laugh. "I can guarantee you that was not about to happen. Or ever happen. We don't even like each other."
"You don't have to like each other to still feel that pull of passion."
"That's not it. There was nothing."
At Emma's look of disbelief, Molly added, "Really, Em. There's nothing between Carter and me. We're over."
Emma hugged her. "I've always felt like there's something to your breakup with Carter that you never told me."
She'd never told anyone. Not Emma, not her parents. They would have swarmed her and coddled her and there would have been a giant mess of recriminations and finger-pointing, and they would have ended up hating Carter when it had been no one else's business. She'd dealt with it alone and run like hell, licking her wounds by herself.
"Nothing to tell. We just weren't meant to be. We were kids, you know? It was a big ugly blowup by two teenagers who thought they were in love--and weren't."
"Are you sure? Because it sure seems to me to be more than that."
One of the main reasons she'd gone--and stayed gone--was because her sister, and her mother, were both very insightful and constantly questioned her. "Absolutely sure. There's nothing more than that. It's just one of those situations where we can't be friends, you know?"
Emma frowned. "He didn't cheat on you, did he?"
The one thing she knew for a fact was that Carter had never been with anyone else while they'd been together. "No, he didn't cheat on me, Em. Let it go, okay?"
Emma finally sighed. "Okay. I just, love you, you know? And it seems to me that you're still hurting over it."
"I'm not. I'm fine. I'm just . . . ready to get on the road again."
Emma leaned against the kitchen counter. "You know, I really wish you would come home, Moll. I can't tell you how much I miss having you in my life."
Molly's stomach clenched. "I miss you, too. But I love the travel, the adventure of moving around. It's who I am."
It wasn't really who she was. She'd missed home every day for the past twelve years. It was who she'd had to become, in order to survive.
Emma hugged her. "Think about it. Home is always here for you if you change your mind."
Molly squeezed her sister tight. "I will."
But she wouldn't change her mind.
Tomorrow, she'd be gone.
CARTER PARKED RHONDA in the garage, smoothing his hand over the steering wheel before pulling the keys out. She was in perfect condition.
Not that he was surprised Molly would take such good care of her. She'd taken good care of him that night at the rehearsal dinner.
He hung his keys on the hook just inside the door, then went to the fridge and grabbed a beer before making his way into the living room. He propped his feet up on the coffee table and grabbed the remote, turned on the TV and found the football game, then leaned back and took a long swallow of beer.
It was over. He'd done his part for Luke and Emma's wedding, which had been a success, just as he thought it would be.
He'd said his goodbyes at Emma's folks' house, even saying a polite goodbye to Molly, who'd managed a smile and an awkward hug.
That had been the worst part, knowing he wasn't going to see her again, when he knew damn well so much had been left unsaid between them.
But, really, what more could be left to say? They'd already said it all--twelve years ago. The past should be left there, and they needed to go their separate ways. Trying to repair the damage would only make things worse.
The problem was, he'd wanted to talk to her, to make the hurt go away for both of them.
He took another drink of beer and stared at the TV, hoping for answers, when he knew there weren't any. But he'd spent years thinking about Molly, remembering every smile, every laugh, every curve of her body. She'd been the one woman he compared every other woman to, and they all had come up short.
Sure, she'd been his first love, and an important one. And yeah, things had ended badly between them, which had left a lingering sadness that he'd never quite forgotten. But he should be over her by now. He should have been able to move on.
The problem was, he hadn't. And he didn't know why. Maybe he never would.
Chapter 8
; MOLLY HAD PLANNED to sleep in this morning since she had a long drive ahead of her. Then she'd get up, have coffee and breakfast with her parents, and head out.
She was just rolling over to get out of bed when she heard the scream.
She bolted out of bed, threw open the bedroom door, and went running into the living room to see her mother sprawled on the floor, the ladder lying on top her. Her right arm and leg were twisted at a very unnatural angle. Pokey, her parents' dog, was barking and whining by her.
"Mom!" She dashed over to her. "Are you okay?"
Her mother looked up, dazed. "Molly. It hurts."
Oh, God. Her heart raced, panic setting in. "Where's Dad?"
Tears streamed from her mother's eyes. She groaned. "Store. Oh, honey. I'm hurt."
That was it. She'd been so close to the fireplace, she might also have hit her head, though Molly didn't see any blood. She went to the phone and dialed 9-1-1, told them her mother had fallen, and gave the address.
Her dad arrived in the middle of the phone call. He dropped his grocery bag and rushed to her mother's side.
"Georgia. What happened?"
"I've already called for an ambulance, Dad. They're on the way. I think she's hurt her arm and leg. Not sure if she hit her head or not, so don't move her. She's in a lot of pain."
Her dad smoothed her mother's hair. Her mother was crying. She'd never seen her mom in such pain. And poor Pokey was just as upset as everyone else, licking her mom's uninjured hand. Her mom petted the dog, seemingly aware enough to notice Pokey's distress.
"Shh, it's going to be okay, honey," her dad said.
"I'm going outside to wait for the ambulance," Molly said.
Her dad nodded without looking at her. She ran into her bedroom and tossed on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, then went outside and waited at the curb.
Within a few minutes the ambulance arrived. The paramedics came in and she and her dad backed away while they took over.
She put her arm around her father.
"You're shaking, Molly."
"I'm okay." She was so not okay.
They immobilized her mother's right arm and leg, as well as her neck, then loaded her onto the stretcher.
One of the paramedics addressed her dad. "Her vital signs are stable and she seems lucid. There's no obvious appearance of a head injury, but until they check her out, we can't be certain. We're taking her to the hospital. You can meet us there."
Her dad nodded. "We'll be right there."
Her mom looked scared.
Molly was scared, too. Her mother was the rock of the family, always in charge. Always healthy. She never even caught colds. To see her like this, so vulnerable, so wounded, was devastating.
Her dad turned to her. "You ready?"
"Let me brush my teeth and put on some shoes. Then I'll be ready to go."
It took her a minute. She brushed her teeth, ran a brush through her hair, shoved a ponytail holder onto her wrist, and pulled on her tennis shoes, then grabbed her phone and purse and they were out the door.
The ride to the hospital was interminable. Molly filled her father in about waking up and hearing her mother's scream, finding the ladder on top of her.
"She was taking down those damn lights over the fireplace. I told her to wait, that I'd do it after breakfast."
"You know Mom. She likes to get things done right away."
Her father gripped the steering wheel. "I should have done it yesterday instead of watching the football game."
She leaned over and rubbed his shoulder. "It's not your fault, Dad."
They parked and went to the emergency room. Her dad filled out forms and gave insurance information, then they were directed to the waiting area.
"Dad, do you want a cup of coffee?"
He shook his head. He looked as miserable as she felt, but she needed some caffeine, so she wandered over to the vending machine and bought a terrible-tasting cup of coffee. The waiting was awful. After an hour, the front desk called her father's name, so they got up and went to the counter.
"Your wife is in room twelve. Through the doors and down the hall, then turn right."
She grabbed her dad's hand and they walked through the doors.
Her mom was in a room with a glass door. Molly pressed a large button and the door opened.
She was asleep, her hair a mess--Mom would hate that. Georgia Burnett was always impeccably groomed in public. She was hooked up to monitors, and her arm and leg were heavily bandaged.
There was a nurse in there.
"Mr. Burnett?"
"Yes."
"The doctor will want to talk to you. Have a seat and I'll go get him."
"Thanks," Molly said, since her dad could only stare at her mom.
Her mother opened her eyes, blinked a few times. "Emmett?"
Dad stood, and Molly did, too. Her dad went over to her uninjured side. "Georgia."
"I'm sorry I didn't wait for you to take down the lights."
"It's okay. How are you feeling?"
She smiled. "Better. They gave me some drugs to numb the pain. But I'm sleepy."
He patted her hand. "Good. You rest."
"They don't have her neck immobilized any longer," Molly said. "That's a good sign, Dad."
The doctor came in, a youngish guy who looked to be in his late thirties.
"Mr. Burnett, I'm Doctor Webb."
They shook hands.
"This is my daughter, Molly."
The doctor nodded.
"Your wife has suffered compound fractures in both her arm and her leg. Paramedics were concerned about the possibility of head or neck injury, but she checked out just fine there."
Thank God.
"She will need surgery on both her arm and her leg, though. We did X rays and the damage is pretty severe. She took a good fall from that ladder."
"Is she going to be all right?" her dad asked.
"She'll need a lot of rest, followed by physical therapy. After surgery, she'll likely be in the hospital about a week, then we'll release her, but she'll need some help until the casts come off. She'll have physical therapy while the casts are on, and then after."
Her dad nodded. "All right. Okay. Whatever she needs."
"We'll do the surgery tomorrow. We'll get her moved to a room in an hour or so."
After the doctor left, Molly sat and let it all soak in. Her father did as well.
"Should we call Emma?" her dad asked.
"No."
Molly looked up at her mother, who was awake again.
"Emma just left for her honeymoon. She's on a plane right now. Don't call her. You know your daughter, Emmett. She'll turn around and come back. I won't ruin her honeymoon."
Her father looked over at Molly, who was at a loss for what to say. Or what to do. Her mother had had an accident and was in pain, with a long recovery process ahead of her.
Calling Emma and bringing her home couldn't change that.
"Mom's right. Don't call Emma. She can't do anything for Mom right now anyway."
"All right," her dad said, then he looked over at Molly. "You were going to leave this morning."
She was. She glanced over at her mother, who was looking at her.
She couldn't leave. Not now. Not with Emma gone and her mom lying there in that bed so . . . vulnerable and her dad so helpless and alone.
There was no way in hell she could go back to Austin today.
Or for the foreseeable future.
So she said the words she never thought she'd hear herself saying.
"I'm staying."
Chapter 9
"GEORGIA BURNETT IS in the hospital."
Carter looked up from his desk to see Bash leaning against his doorframe.
"What? What happened?"
"She took a fall at home a few days ago. Broke her arm and her leg pretty badly."
Carter leaned back in his chair. "Holy shit. Is she okay?"
Bash nodded. "She's going to be okay, but she's
going to be laid up for a while."
"Did someone call Molly and let her know?"
"Molly's still here."
"She is?" How could he not know that? "How do you know all this?"
Bash's lips curved. "Dude. I run a bar. I know everything that goes on in this town. Who lives, who dies, who's sleeping with who."
Carter cracked a smile. "Yeah, I forgot about that. Is Georgia home from the hospital yet?"
"No. She had surgery the other day, so she'll be in there for a few more days."
He needed to get to the hospital. "Okay, thanks for letting me know. What are you doing here, by the way?"
"Some brake work on my car. Why? Are you gonna give me a discount?"
"If I gave everybody that I knew a discount, Bash, I'd never make money."
"You're a cruel bastard, Richards."
"Not the first time I've heard that. Come on, let's go look at your brakes."
After work, he drove to the hospital. He knew Georgia liked daisies, so he stopped and bought her some. When he arrived at her room the door was partially closed, but the light was on, so he knocked.
"Come on in."
That was Emmett Burnett's voice, so he nudged the door open. Georgia was sitting up in bed. Her leg was held up by some kind of contraption with wires and slings. Her arm was in a cast, also immobilized by a sling.
"Carter," Georgia said. "How lovely to see you."
She was smiling. He was damned relieved to see her looking so good. He had envisioned a lot worse. Though seeing her in those casts was pretty bad.
"I would have been by sooner, but I just heard about your accident today. I'm so sorry you got hurt." He laid the flowers over on the table near the wall, then came over and kissed her on the cheek. "How are you doing?"
"Better than I was a couple of days ago. Thank you for the flowers."
"You're welcome."
"Take a seat, Carter," Emmett said, motioning to the chair on the other side of the bed. "Awfully nice of you to come by."
Carter rounded the bed and pulled up a chair. "So . . . tell me what happened."
"What happened was my impatient wife couldn't wait for me to take down the lights over the fireplace, and she was wearing slippery shoes." Emmett gave her a glare.
"I . . . well, he's right, of course," Georgia said. "I do like to get things done. And I wasn't so smart about it this time. Now look at me."
"How long are you going to be laid up and casted?" Carter asked.
"Twelve weeks for the casts, with a lot of physical therapy during and after."