by Cox, Chloe
Basically the worst place to be feeling insecure about the man that she had feelings for.
Especially because Molly had just stumbled on a roadie getting a very epic, very loud blowjob.
“Jesus,” Molly muttered.
“Jesus!” said the roadie. The woman who was on her knees didn’t say anything.
Yeah, that was not something she wanted to be around at the moment. The knot in her stomach that made itself known whenever she thought about Declan tightened a few clicks, and she knew that it was not going to help her make good decisions. Time to get unlost and away from this craziness.
She took the very first turn she saw and barreled forward, only to come upon a dead end and a little room. The only way out was back through the blowjob area. And in here was, oddly enough, a young woman Molly’s age and a little boy of maybe eight, engaged in a very intense thumb-wrestling battle.
The boy saw her first.
“Hey, did they go on?” he asked. “Can we come out yet?”
The woman, who was willow-thin and blonde with colored streaks in her hair, like a particularly elegant punk, covered the little boy’s ears with her hands and raised an eyebrow at Molly.
“You a fellow blowjob refugee?” she asked.
Molly burst out laughing. “I am.”
“I’m Harlow,” the woman said, keeping a hold on the little boy’s ears. “This is my little brother, Dill.”
Dill rolled his eyes.
Harlow went on, “That has got to be the world’s longest blowjob at this point. If the dude weren’t so damn vocal, I could probably sneak this little guy past.”
“He’s definitely enthusiastic.”
“He’s like a male cheerleader.”
Dill’s patience evidently ran out, and he shook his head free of Harlow’s protective earmuff hands. “I am way too old for this, Lo. I know what they were doing. I saw them.”
Harlow looked horrified. “Oh my God, lie to me, Dill.”
“Maybe we could say something to security,” Molly said, letting her voice trail off as both Harlow and Dill gave her a look like she’d just sprouted a second head. Molly laughed. “Right, never mind.”
“Besides,” Harlow said, ruffling her little brother’s hair. “Dill and I are already on thin ice, because Dill decided to play with some equipment he found lying around.”
“They can’t kick us out,” Dill said with a mischievous grin, holding up the laminated pass he had around his neck. “We have passes.”
“Pfft, they can totally kick us out. Nobody cares about radio contest winners,” Harlow said, plopping down on a truly disgusting looking couch in the corner. She changed her tone when she looked at Dill’s falling face. The kid suddenly looked younger than eight. “Don’t worry, kiddo, you will get to meet the band, ok? I will kick all the ass in the world if I have to, I promise.”
Molly realized she felt weirdly at home. This was something she understood, a big sister looking out for her brother. It was the first time she felt like she was on solid ground since…well, since meeting Declan.
She felt a sudden pang. Lydia. Molly knew that she’d been a terrible big sister lately. She should be on top of whatever was going on with Lydia; even if Lydia was being a difficult teenager, she shouldn’t be letting it all slide just because she was so wrapped up in what was happening between her and Declan.
“You guys going to meet Savage Heart?” Molly asked, trying to get her mind off of it.
Dill’s face lit up with a wicked grin. “I’m gonna ask if I can be their new guitarist.”
“Wow,” Molly said. “That is ambitious.”
“It could happen! Come on, I’m a cute little kid, they bring me out on stage…” Dill batted his eyelashes, and Molly made a mental note: Get this kid on stage.
“They’re his favorite band,” Harlow said wryly. “So naturally he’s gunning for them.”
“Hey,” Dill said anxiously, “They’re supposed to go on soon.”
He was right. Molly had wandered for far too long. The three of them emerged from the little room, glad to see that the immediate vicinity was now blowjob free—or at least Molly and Harlow were glad; Dill seemed kind of disappointed, which Harlow decided to ignore—and still totally lost. They ran around with increasing anxiety before a harried looking production flak with maybe ten thousand badges slung around his neck grabbed hold of Molly’s arm and brought the whole caravan to a halt.
“Are you Molly Ward?” he asked in desperation.
“Yeah,” Molly said with relief. “Do you know where Declan is?”
“Declan?” Dill said with awe. “Declan Donovan?”
“Come with me,” the flak urged. “He’s not going on until you’re where you’re supposed to be.”
Damn. Too late Molly remembered what Declan had said the previous night: he didn’t want her in the front row this time, but in the wings. There was something he wanted her to see.
But then Molly looked at Dill. The kid’s face—no one with a heart could disappoint him.
“Can my friends come?” Molly asked.
The poor flak stared at her. “Lady, if you can get Savage Heart on stage on time, you can do whatever you want as far as I’m concerned,” he said. “But we have to go, now.”
Which was how they all ended up running through Madison Square Garden, Dill whooping and jumping up to touch the low ceiling at random intervals, Harlow laughing and mouthing a silent “thank you” to Molly, and Molly thinking about Declan.
He wouldn’t go on stage without her?
Molly tried to suppress a smile, but it was impossible. Just like it was impossible to tell herself to slow down, to try to proceed with some sense of dignity intact. She was literally running toward him. Of course she was. It felt like she had been this whole time, whether she knew it or not, whether she wanted to or not.
She felt totally out of control, and it was the happiest she’d ever felt.
And when they turned the final corner, spilling into the large area just off the stage, the crowd’s chants filling the space, she knew why: Declan.
The rest of the guys were loafing around, ready to go, waiting. Declan was smoldering. Standing there, tall, dark, dominating, and strong, and it was like Molly couldn’t see anything else. Nothing but those eyes, burning for her.
But nobody told Dill.
The little boy screamed and ran right for Declan, who broke his gaze with Molly at the last possible second and held out his hand for a high five from a little kid who was literally overflowing with exuberance. Dill hit it as hard as he could and yelled, “You’re Declan Donovan!”
Declan laughed. “I know!”
“Sorry,” Harlow said. “I mean, oh my God, you are really about to go on stage, and Dill—Dill! Come back here! Seriously, I’m so sorry.”
Declan looked at Molly, his eyes shining. “Don’t be. You guys hang out here, and we’ll see you after the show.”
“’Lo!” screamed Dill, hopping up and down. His sister laughed and hugged him, possibly as a way of keeping him from bouncing off the ceiling, and that left Declan free.
And he came straight for Molly.
“I got lost,” she said as he closed in on her.
“I’d have found you,” he said.
Molly licked her lips, tried to swallow. Her mouth was dry. How did he do that to her still? Still made her stomach flutter, still made her skin feel too warm, still…
Declan hooked his finger into the waistband of her jeans and pulled her in close in that way that he did. Molly felt weak and strong and wet for him all at once. All the screaming thoughts that told her to freak out, that she was in trouble, that he had a thing with his ex that Molly would never understand—they all shut up the second his lips touched hers.
He kissed her hard, but maybe not as hard as he usually did. When he pulled back, he whispered, “You wouldn’t believe what I would have done to you if it wasn’t for the kid.”
“Show me later?” she asked.
>
“Thoroughly,” he said, and gave her ass a good squeeze.
And then it was time for Savage Heart to take back Madison Square Garden.
***
They were amazing. They were always amazing, but Declan—Declan was on another level. He stormed out there and owned the crowd, the same way he owned Molly, the same way he owned any room he’d ever walked into. She would never, ever get tired of watching him perform, especially not when she knew what it truly was for him, when she was the only person who knew what that release was.
Or pretended she was the only other person who knew. For right now, she was his sub. Right now had to be good enough, and right now, Molly had trouble taking her eyes off of him.
Which was how she missed the first five calls.
She only figured out her phone was blowing up because of the blue glow that kept reflecting off of Dill’s rapt face. Molly looked idly down and saw the one number she hadn’t expected to see.
Shauna’s.
Shauna, who was housesitting for her, had called her five times.
There could be nothing good about that.
Molly backed away, trying to find somewhere quiet enough to take a phone call, her mind racing with the various possibilities. Had something happened to her house? She’d thought she was being paranoid when she’d asked Shauna to stay, but maybe not.
It’s just stuff, she told herself. Stuff can be replaced.
Molly found another little office, slipped inside, and closed the door behind her. She stared at her phone. The ball of dread that had coalesced in her stomach was not going anywhere, not until she made that phone call and found out what had happened.
She didn’t have to. Her phone rang, jangling harshly in the confines of the tiny room. It was Shauna.
“Shauna, what happened?”
“Oh, thank God,” her friend said. The reception was terrible and Shauna sounded so far away, and it only increased Molly’s anxiety. “Thank God you picked up, Mol. I have no idea what to do…”
“What happened?” Molly asked again.
Shauna took a big breath and said, “It’s Lydia.”
chapter 25
Molly’s heart stopped.
She knew it didn’t, not really. She didn’t actually die. She just lived, for a second that seemed to last an eternity, between the beats, in a moment where she knew the next words she heard could break her heart, and more than anything she didn’t want to find out what those words were.
“She’s here, Mol,” Shauna said.
“Why?” Molly croaked. “What happened? God, Shauna, just tell me.”
“She won’t stop crying, Molly. She just showed up, hysterical, and she won’t tell me anything, and I have no idea what’s going on.”
“Put her on the phone.”
She waited with that iron coil of dread in her belly, twisting, turning, trying not to think of what could have happened to her baby sister while Molly wasn’t there to protect her. Molly had been so close, so close to getting Lydia out of there…
“Molly?”
She almost cried to hear her voice, thick with tears. Then Lydia hiccupped, and it sent Molly right into maternal mode. She had someone to take care of.
“Ladybug, what’s wrong?”
Lydia started to cry again, then managed to hold herself together long enough to talk. “I’m so sorry, Molly, I am so, so sorry. I didn’t want to tell you until we had it all figured out, but then Daddy found out, and I had nowhere else to go, and—”
Gently, Molly said, “It’s ok, whatever it is, I promise. Just tell me. What is it?”
There was a pause.
“I’m pregnant,” Lydia said, sighing, like it was a relief to just say it out loud. “It was an accident, Molly, I swear I was careful, but now Daddy knows and he is pissed, and I just…where are you?”
Molly sat down on some random person’s desk with heavy finality. She couldn’t believe what she’d just heard. Literally could not believe it. She’d had every safe sex conversation she could have had with her sister. She’d offered to buy her condoms, offered to take her to get the pill, offered to let her keep her things at Molly’s place just so their dad wouldn’t find anything. Molly had drilled all those lessons home, over and over again, whenever she could, even after their dad had limited communication.
She’d been so confident. So sure she’d done right, so sure that Lydia would be spared the consequences of the mistakes that Molly herself had made, that Lydia wouldn’t have to go through any of that pain. And now here she was again, all over again, except this time it was somehow worse. It was worse because Molly knew, this time; she knew how much pain might be in store for her sister, and there was not a damn thing she could do about it.
“Molly?” Lydia said softly.
“I’m here, Bug,” Molly said, rubbing her eyes. “I’m coming home. Tomorrow morning, ok? Eight hours if I can swing it. Can you hang out with Shauna until tomorrow morning? And you call the police if Daddy shows up, ok?”
“I don’t think he will, Mol,” Lydia said. She already sounded better, just getting to talk to her sister. “I think he’s kind of relieved to have an excuse to get rid of me, to tell the truth. I think I’m safe so long as I’m not there.”
“Yeah, well, if he does, you call, ok?”
“I promise.”
“Eight hours, depending on the flight and everything, ok? Sit tight.”
Molly hung up with a sense of grim determination. Everything had definitely changed, all right. She was going to have to get to the airport, find a flight, get Lydia set up in a new place…
“Everything ok?”
Molly looked up to find Harlow sticking her head in the door. It was only then that Molly realized she was crying.
“Ok, obviously everything is not ok,” Harlow said. “But you just made my brother’s life, so tell me: Can I help?”
“No?” Molly said. “I don’t know. I have to get to the airport. I have to get a flight back to L.A. like, now. My sister is…she’s in trouble.”
“Oh God.” The sibling thing hit Harlow hard.
Molly stood up, running her hand through her hair, trying to remember that she was a badass. She said, “I’m sorry, I have to go. Can you give him a message for me?”
Harlow blinked. “Who? Declan Donovan?”
“Yeah, Declan.” It had been a while since he’d been ‘Declan Donovan’ to her. It made Molly smile wistfully. “Can you tell him…oh God, I don’t know. Tell him I had to go, tell him it was an emergency, tell him I’m sorry. I have to get a cab…”
Molly cursed inwardly. She was rambling, disorganized. Panicked. These were not the traits of a badass who was about to go take charge and get things done; this was what she’d been like years ago when confronted with her own ruined life. It had taken a lot of work to get past that. She wasn’t going to backslide now.
“I can give him your message, no problem,” Harlow said. “But Molly, there is literally zero chance that you will get a cab right now. It’s raining, it’s late at night, people are getting out of bars, there’s the shift change, and there’s a livery strike. If you wait an hour—”
Molly shook her head. “No, I’ll miss the next flight. I promised her tomorrow morning. I can’t…”
Molly didn’t even want to finish that sentence. She couldn’t bear to break another promise about her sister right now. The only person she knew who could help her was on stage right now, and the idea of throwing this on Declan’s lap, of asking him to deal with it… She was not ruining this tour for him. And that wasn’t what they were to each other.
No, don’t think about him. Do NOT think about him.
She wouldn’t be able to hold it together if she did. If she thought about how much she truly needed him right now, about how what she wanted from him was what he’d said he couldn’t give, about how she had to leave, knowing…
“Ok, I gotta figure something out,” Molly said. “It was nice meeting you, though, Harlow.�
�
“Oh damn it,” Harlow said, digging in her pocket. She produced a set of car keys and pushed them toward Molly. “I would be out of my mind if anything ever happened to Dill. You have to go. Just give me your phone number so I don’t feel like such a crazy person, and I can’t believe I’m saying this, but take my car.”
Molly stared at the keys. “What?”
“Seriously, I might snap back to sanity at any moment. Just text me where you leave it at the airport and overnight the keys to the address I send you, ok? And remember I’m broke and this is how I get my brother to and from his weird computer camp where he’s on scholarship, and…oh, you don’t care about any of that, just freaking take it.”
“You’re serious?”
“Yes,” Harlow sighed. “Look, if someone hadn’t done something this insane for me once, I would have…”
Harlow stopped. She almost seemed to blink back tears, but maybe Molly had just imagined that. Maybe Molly just saw something of herself in Harlow.
“Look, if somebody hadn’t helped me out, I don’t know where I’d be. I might be dead. I definitely wouldn’t have Dill. And I have no idea what would have happened to him,” Harlow said, obviously working to keep her voice steady. “I kind of owe the universe. And you are a nice person who went out of your way to make my brother happy. Plus, I can always go after Declan Donovan if I don’t get my car back,” she said, grinning. “Now, just take the freaking keys and go help your sister before I change my mind.”
“Oh my God, you are serious,” Molly said, handing over her phone so Harlow could dial her own number while Molly watched in disbelief. She wasn’t quite conditioned to accept random, genuine acts of kindness from the world, but screw it—she’d worry about karma and divine plans later. She grabbed the keys and the proffered parking ticket.
“It’s in the lot on Thirty-Seventh Street,” Harlow called after her. “It’s a 1992 Corolla, but it runs. You pay for parking, and just, like…I don’t know, go east and then follow the signs? There are maps in the glove box. Please don’t kill my car!”