by Jenny Penn
Dismissing any thought other than Molly from his mind, Logan shoved into her hospital room to find her sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling at her IV. That had him stumbling to a halt as he felt a frown pull at his brow.
“What are you doing?” That seemed both like a stupid question and a very practical one at the same time.
“Getting the hell out of here,” Molly responded without looking up.
“I don’t think so.” Charged with a sudden rush of protective concern, Logan jerked forward, crossing the room to cover her hand and force her to stop pulling on the needle buried in it. “You’ll get out of here when the doctors say you’re okay to get out of here. No arguments.”
“Logan—”
“No arguments,” he repeated firmly as he began to shoo her back under the covers. “You’re in shock.”
“I’m not in shock,” Molly muttered.
“You need your rest.” Logan ignored her complaining as he pulled the covers up over her.
“I don’t need rest.”
“And I’m going to sit”—Logan paused to pull a chair closer to the edge of Molly’s bed before matching his actions to his words—“right here and make sure you do.”
Molly scowled, her lower lip jutting out slightly as she lay there stubbornly silent for several minutes. She didn’t have the patience, though, to hold back on her complaints. Soon enough, they started to tumble out.
“I’m not in shock,” Molly grumbled once again as she turned to cast a frown in Logan’s direction. “I feel just fine.”
“And that’s not right,” Logan shot back. “After what you went through tonight—”
“Went through?” Molly snorted as if that were some kind of joke. “All I did was lie there listening to a mad man babble on until I got a chance to stab him in the gut and run for my life. It wasn’t that hard.”
“Molly.”
“What?” She cocked a brow at him, seeming completely unaware of how disturbing her words and attitude were. “It wasn’t that hard.”
Logan sighed. He didn’t know what else to say. After all, he wasn’t a therapist. Molly had already refused to speak to the shrink who had stopped by. Apparently, Molly had gotten affronted that the other woman had dared to treat her like she was damaged, even if she clearly was.
The little therapist with the big glasses had made it clear that Molly just needed time. Time to accept what had happened. Time to realize that everything wasn’t okay. When that time came, Logan had the therapist’s card. Molly would get the help she needed.
“So? Where is Bruce?” Molly finally asked after several long minutes of silence. “I haven’t seen him since…is he avoiding me?”
“Maybe.” Logan shrugged, not too concerned about his cousin right then. “He feels guilty for leaving you like he did. So you can expect, when he does show, abject apologies and heartfelt promises never to do that to you again.”
“Hmm.” Molly appeared to consider that for a moment before her gaze narrowed on Logan. “And what about you? Don’t you think you owe me a little of that, too? After all, you left me there as well.”
That he had. That was a burden Logan would bear for the rest of his life. “Don’t worry, honey, it won’t ever happen again.”
“Very heartfelt,” Molly assured him with a nod. “Very impressive apology.”
“Molly—”
“Have neither one of you boneheads considered that if I hadn’t spent most of the evening following you two around town then I would have gone home and walked into…a trap? I mean him waiting there for me and you two—”
“Lead him to you,” Logan cut in, sickened by Molly desperate attempt to absolve them of all responsibility. “He was there because of us.”
“He was there because he was a psycho,” Molly corrected as if that excused them of their responsibility for bringing that psycho into her life. “If not me, then he would have gone after somebody else.”
“So?” Logan snapped back, driven damn near insane by her illogically reasonable arguments. They might sound sane on paper, but there was a difference between Molly and everybody else. “Do you really think I care half as much about any other woman as I do you? I love you, Molly, and I would choose you over all others. So do I feel bad that Guy killed Trisha? Yeah. But if he’d killed you…”
Logan couldn’t finish that thought. Not with Molly staring at him in wide-eyed shock. He knew he probably was scaring her, but he couldn’t deny the truth. He did feel bad about Trisha, but he’d get over it. Loosing Molly, though, that was a hit he’d never survive.
A grim, tense silence fell over the room as Logan watched the tears gather in Molly’s eyes. They trembled there on the edge of her lashes, echoing in the quiver that filled her frail whisper.
“You love me?”
Logan felt himself coming undone as those tears began to fall, leaving glistening trails down her cheeks. Without thought, he was out of his chair and holding her within the next breath. He clutched her close as she began to sob with deep, heaving breaths that had her shuddering in his arms.
Logan simply held her closer, trying to smoother the sounds of her distress, even as they tore through him. He could feel himself weaken, feel the tears gathering along his own lashes as he heard the door open behind him. Logan didn’t look. He didn’t have to.
Bruce crossed the room, barely sparing a second before he appeared on the other side of Molly. Just as Logan had, Bruce settled along the edge of her hospital bed and wrapped his arms around her waist. He leaned into Molly from behind and simply held her.
Logan didn’t object.
Chapter Fourteen
Molly woke up the next day feeling exhausted despite the fact that the hospital staff had pumped her so full of sedatives she’d passed out for nearly thirteen hours. Far from rested, they left her feeling groggy and a little grumpy, but, at least, she didn’t feel half as uncomfortable as Logan and Bruce looked sprawled out in their respective chairs.
Logan snored away, curled toward his side with legs stretched way out so that his boots rested on the foot of her bed. Bruce, however, was silent. His arms crossed over his chest and his chin tucked down into them, he sat there staring at her with a brooding look. Molly knew well what thoughts stirred behind the dark glower in his eyes, but still, she gave him the moment to say the words lingering in the air, only he didn’t.
“This is not your fault.” Molly sighed, too tired to argue the matter but wearily knowing she had to. “You had no way of knowing—”
“Don’t.” Bruce cut her off with a slow shake his head.
Rousing with the skilled grace of a predator, he settled down on the side of her bed before picking up her hand. For a long, tense minute, he simply stared at her fingers, and when Bruce finally spoke, Molly could hear the regret deepening his tone.
“I should have never left you tied up like that.” Bruce paused and took a deep breath as he glanced up to capture her gaze. “I swear it won’t ever happen again.”
She knew it wouldn’t, but she also knew his guilt was misplaced. Molly just wasn’t sure how to convince either Bruce or Logan of that. That didn’t mean she didn’t try.
“And just what do you think would have happened if you’d left me not tied to the bed?”
“You would have fled,” Bruce answered without hesitation. Molly responded in kind.
“Right into that psycho’s arms.”
“You could have fought him off.”
“And probably gotten hurt trying.”
“You managed,” Bruce reminded her softly, and Molly knew that she was supposed to flinch from that truth, but she didn’t.
“Because I had the element of surprise.” Molly hesitated, giving that a moment to sink in before pressing on with her point. “Because you had tied me up, that man thought I was secure…and he was wrong. That was my advantage.”
Bruce stared at her as if she’d grown a second head. “You aren’t serious, are you?”
“And b
ecause you tied me up,” Molly continued on, ignoring Bruce’s clear objection to her conclusions, “Logan felt bad enough to drag you both back. If I hadn’t escaped, you’d have been there in time to save me…and you wouldn’t have come back if you hadn’t tied me up.”
“That is the most fucked-up reasoning I’ve ever heard,” Bruce stated simply, sounding slightly amazed by that confession. “You really are in shock, aren’t you?”
Molly was tired of people asking her that when the truth should have been obvious by now. “Or maybe I’m just in love?”
Whatever Molly expected from that question it wasn’t the blank stare it earned her. Bruce sat there, not moving, not speaking, just staring until finally Molly couldn’t take it anymore.
“Well?” she pressed. “I just told you I love you. Don’t you have something you want to say back to me?”
“You’re in shock.”
“Oh for God’s sake. I am not in shock!”
Molly gave in to the urge to yell at him, annoyed beyond compare at his stubborn attitude. Of course that didn’t exactly prove her point. All it really did was rouse Logan, who yawned and stretched in his seat before casting a dark look between Molly and Bruce before settling his narrowed gaze on his cousin.
“What are you doing? You’re not upsetting her, are you? You know she’s in—”
“Don’t!” Molly leveled a finger, along with that command, at Logan. “Don’t say it. I’m not in shock. Okay? I’m naturally upset because this bonehead here dismissed my confession of love.”
“Confession of love?” Logan repeated before busting out laughing.
“And what is so funny about that?” Molly demanded to know, growing both frustrated and indignant by his attitude.
“Please.” Logan snorted as he shoved out of his seat. “We both know you love us. That was pretty clear last night when you decided to try your hand at tailing us.”
Molly licked her lips at that accusation. She’d wondered when they would get around to what she’d done last night. She already had a well-rehearsed line memorized. “I was jealous and wrong.”
“You don’t trust us,” Bruce clarified. “And that’s the problem.”
“Yeah? Well…” Molly searched around for something to say, feeling cornered and a little defensive. “You don’t trust me either.”
“What?” Bruce gaped at her as Logan rolled his eyes.
“That’s right. You don’t trust me,” Molly insisted. “That’s why you left me tied to a bed!”
That had Bruce flinching, but Logan didn’t look impressed by her reasoning. He just scowled and waited, as if giving her time to explain that, but Molly didn’t bother. He wouldn’t believe her no matter what she said.
“Okay, so…we’ve all made mistakes here.” Molly smiled broadly at both men. “So why don’t we let bygones be bygones and just start over from the beginning?”
“The beginning?” Logan repeated with a chuckle. “I don’t think so. We’re already knee deep into this thing, and there is no way we’re backing up now.”
“Excuse me?” Molly blinked, not completely certain what he meant by that.
“I think what Logan is saying is that we’re over two weeks into this relationship, and make no mistake, it is a relationship,” Bruce assured her. “And we’re not going to start over and go through all the hassle of dating.”
“Hassle?” Molly didn’t know if she should be offended or amused by his choice of words. Either way, Bruce wasn’t taking them back.
“What we are going to do is take you home,” he continued on, pointedly ignoring Molly’s interruption. “We’re going to take you home and show you that we love you every day for the rest of our lives, and eventually you’ll learn to accept that when we say we love you that means we’d never do anything to hurt you.”
Molly blinked back tears and nodded. “That sounds good to me.”
* * * *
It might have sounded good, but there was a whole lot to get done before they could go home. First Molly had to talk with the therapist and get cleared to check out. The little woman with the big glasses finally agreed that Molly was no longer in a state of shock.
Apparently, she’d moved on to denial, which the therapist seemed to think was a natural step. Molly thought the woman was full of it. Just because she wasn’t crying and carrying on didn’t mean she wasn’t fully aware of what had happened. She’d killed a man, a horrible, evil man, and Molly wasn’t about to regret that.
Of course, only the therapist seemed to think that she should. Big Bob and his guys seemed more than proud of her, and the police seemed less than concerned. Bruce and Logan’s uncle arranged for her to have a lawyer, who met them down at the station house to help Molly give her statement, something that she hadn’t done the night before.
Going over every detail, Molly sat there with Logan on one side and Bruce on the other, each gripping one of her hands as they all but glowered in their seats. She could feel both their anger and their regret and thought silently to herself that it was Bruce and Logan who really needed to see the shrink.
Molly kept that opinion to herself as the sheriff and her lawyer talked privately for several minutes. The lawyer reappeared to assure her that there would be no charges pressed and that she could go home. That was all Molly wanted to do, but as Logan and Bruce loaded her up into Logan’s truck and pulled out of the police station’s parking lot, Logan didn’t turn toward their apartment but away from it.
Molly didn’t object or even bother to question him, not really sure she wanted to back to the apartment now that the moment had come. In fact, she didn’t ever want to go back there. The very idea sent a cold chill through her, and for the first time, Molly considered that the therapist might have been right about some things.
Maybe she wasn’t really ready to face what had happened. What had happened not to her but to Trisha. Trisha was dead, and Molly wasn’t ready to think of how her former friend had spent her final hours. After all, she might have her reasons to hate the other woman, but Molly would never have wished this kind of end on her. She wouldn’t wish that on anybody.
“You okay?” Bruce finally broke the silence filling the cab as he reached out to cover Molly’s clenched fist with his hand. “It’s all right, honey. You’re not ever going back to that apartment.”
That assurance brought a smile to Molly’s face as she glanced up at Bruce, wondering just how it was that he’d managed to read her mind and her worries so easily. The answer really didn’t matter. What counted was the conviction in Bruce’s tone and the assurance that she wasn’t going to have to handle this alone.
“Thank you.” Molly smiled slightly as she relaxed her fingers, turning her hand over to grip his in a tight hold. “I don’t know what I would have done without you, both of you, being there for me.”
That was just the honest truth. Molly’s strength over the past day came from them, from the knowledge that she not only had something to fight for but also somebody to fight with her. The future was theirs, and apparently it came with an old plantation-style house.
Forgetting all about her worries, Molly’s attention turned toward the massive white-clapboard wood home sitting at the top of long, inclined driveway Logan turned into. It had massive pillars that held up the roof of a porch that wrapped all the way around, a porch that was screened in on the sides and framed with ornate latticework.
Everything looked fresh, from the shining white coat of paint covering the whole house to the gleaming glass windows that hovered cheerily above the porch roof. With two stories and gables at the attic level, indicating that the top floor was finished as well, the house was huge, and it apparently, belonged to Logan and Bruce.
Logan pulled his truck to a stop in the front yard, not aiming for the three-car garage Molly could see set off to the side of the back of the house. Instead, he killed the engine and turned to glance down at Molly as she stared up at the house.
“Well?” Logan pressed after a
long moment. “What do you think?”
“It’s beautiful.” It was. It was a dream that she’d always had, and Molly didn’t dare to believe that it had actually come true. A home of her own…maybe. “Is it…is it yours?”
“It’s ours,” Bruce answered with a squeeze of his hand. “It’s our future.”
“Ours,” Molly repeated softly, looking back toward the house and thinking she liked the sound of that. “For our future.”
“Our future,” Logan echoed as he leaned down to drop a kiss on Molly’s cheek before taking her hand and reaching for the handle to the door with his other one. “Come on, we’ll give you the tour.”
The tour consisted of finished hardwood floors, ornate crown moldings, tall, stately windows, and so many rooms that most sat empty. Most, but not all. The few rooms filled with furniture were filled with her furniture. Now Molly knew what they’d done with her stuff. They’d moved it into her new house, proof that they’d been thinking of the long haul all along.
Nowhere was that more clear than in the master bedroom. It took up the entire finished attic and came not only with two walk-in closets and a bathroom to make royalty envious but also an area set aside as a small nursery. Molly came to a stop before the cute, little nook where a crib already sat and glanced from it to the massive bed that took up the far wall of the room.
That was where they wanted to make their babies…if they hadn’t already made one. Molly lifted a hand to her stomach as that thought sank in. Always religious about making sure her lovers wore condoms, it was telling that she hadn’t even considered the matter till now when it came to Bruce and Logan.
Of course, the more Molly considered it, the more she knew she lied to herself. She’d been aware all along of what she’d been doing, of the hope she’d been harboring but hadn’t dared to confront. She wanted to be pregnant. She wanted to build a family with Bruce and Logan. She wanted it so badly it scared her as nothing else ever had.
So, she’d simply blocked all thoughts about babies and condoms out of her head until that moment, but clearly Bruce and Logan had been thinking about the matter. Turning slowly to confront them, Molly found both men studying her with a look she’d come to know well.