I love it.
From the moment I looked at the plans, I just knew it was going to be my little piece of heaven, and I’m still in awe that I was able to buy this place. I’ll be forever grateful for the generous gift from Susan and Pete. Nothing will ever make up for what we all lost, but thanks to them, I’ve been able to attempt to move on with my life.
Currently, there are boxes everywhere. I haven’t had much time to unpack with everything I had to do at school to end the year, but my first holiday job is to get this place sorted and looking like a home.
Anger fills my veins as I lead us up to the living room. “It’s going to be okay. Let’s get you warm and dry and you can tell me what the fucker did.” My fists clench. I want to beat the shit out of him for treating her so badly for so long.
“How do you know he’s done anything?” Molly asks in a quiet voice.
“I can read you like a book, Molly Carter. Plus, he’s a massive dickhead. I think I’ve mentioned that before. Only Max can make you feel this bad about yourself.”
“Why was I so fucking stupid? I had my doubts, everyone had their doubts, but he convinced me that it was what he wanted. I’m not really surprised, but what does shock me is how much it hurts.”
“Come on, get your arse upstairs and in the shower. I’ll find you a t-shirt to wear.”
* * *
As I root through a suitcase in one of the spare bedrooms, the door to my ensuite shuts. I pull out my Oxford Brookes polo and leave it on my bed. I hope my choice will make her smile, remembering happier times.
I knock lightly on the door. “Have you got everything you need?”
There’s silence for a few seconds, and I can imagine her checking out all the products in the shower, realising they’re all for men. Eventually, I hear a quiet “Yes” from the other side of the door.
“Okay, I’ll see you downstairs when you’re done. Take your time.”
I gather up her wet clothes and take them with me. They may be soaked, but I can still smell her vanilla scent on them. It makes me feel oddly warm inside. She’s been my rock for the past six months. I don’t know what I would have done without her.
As I put everything in the washing machine, I spot her bra poking out of the pile. “What the fuck do I do with this?” I mutter to myself. Something in me wonders if it needs some kind of special cycle in the machine, but fuck if I know. I decide to shove it all in and just put it on a cool, quick wash.
That shouldn’t do it much damage, right?
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Losing the Forbidden: Forbidden Series #2 Page 13