by Devney Perry
I held up my hand, silencing his protest. “Do you even remember what we were fighting about?”
“Kali ate those chocolate chips and got sick while you were outside.”
“Yes, I was outside. I was taking care of the house and the lawn. I was busy cooking dinners that you missed.”
“It was just a few dinners.”
“A few? You missed dinner ten nights in a row. Ten,” I spat. “And the month before those ten, you were hit or miss half the time. You were too busy taking Bridget out to dinner because you needed to catch her up on some designs.”
Even when he had come home, his laptop had been on constantly. I’d gotten used to falling asleep to the sound of him working in bed while I was curled up on my side. Alone.
I’d told him all of this. I’d shouted and screamed, hoping he’d listen. That for once, he’d put his wife before his job. Instead, he’d told me I wasn’t being supportive. He was doing this for us, after all. Building a legacy.
Three days. Friday. Saturday. Sunday. We fought for three days, barely able to look at one another. Finally, I told him maybe we needed to take a break. Our argument was just running laps. Every few hours, we circled back to the beginning and started all over again.
He left.
I put a smile on my face for the kids.
And that night, I cried until I was so exhausted, I eventually passed out.
My anger surged one last time before it morphed to pain. I blinked rapidly, not letting myself cry. But I felt the tears burn. They were the frustrated, uncontrollable tears of the heartbroken woman I’d been all those years ago.
“I’m sorry,” Finn whispered. He reached for my arm, but I took a step away.
“Why would you write that?” My voice shook.
“I was so angry.”
“How could you be angry at me? I just wanted you home for dinner.”
“It wasn’t you.” He shook his head. “I was angry. I didn’t know it at the time, but I was angry at myself. It was easier to take it out on you than to admit I was the problem. That you were right all along.”
“I—what?”
He shuffled closer, leading with his good leg. “You were right.”
I slapped a hand over my mouth, holding in a cry. Those words were so welcome. And much, much too late. My hand fell away, my chin dropped. “I don’t want these letters anymore.”
“I’m sorry.” Finn stepped closer.
The moment his hand touched my arm, I lost it. After weeks of doing everything for everyone, of stretching myself to the thinnest to keep him and the kids together, I broke.
The tears came. The sobs escaped. My shoulders shook.
I broke.
But for the first time in over six years, I didn’t break alone. Finn wrapped me in his arms and I cried. For the first time in years, I shared my tears with another person.
And when I was all cried out, I let Finn hold me.
“Please, Molly. I’m begging you. Don’t read them. Please, stop reading them.”
I stiffened. “How many more are there?”
“Promise me you won’t read them.”
I pushed him away and looked into his eyes. “Are they like this one?”
He didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. The remorse in his gaze told me everything I needed to know.
They weren’t like this letter.
They were worse.
Chapter Fifteen
Finn
“You’re doing so well.” Ashley clapped. “I’m so impressed.”
“Thanks, Ashley.” I grinned at her then finished the set of bicep curls I was doing with an elastic exercise band.
The name of our game at the moment was Muscle Mass. My right arm looked like a limp noodle compared to my left. Both of my legs had slimmed down and my thighs didn’t fill out my jeans anymore. Instead, they draped down my legs, covering the toothpicks that had become my calves, so I’d been working hard to replace the muscle I’d lost after the accident.
I’d never been vain about my body. I wasn’t a gym rat or obsessive about my diet. I had a physical job and loved hiking in the mountains, both of which kept me in shape. But after months of being trapped in a bed or chair, I was not happy with the reflection in the mirror. I looked like a string bean.
When Ashley gave me the go-ahead to start bulking up, I dove in, doubling up on protein and throwing myself into these sessions. My arms were getting stronger. So were my legs. I’d even begun to gain back some definition in my abs.
It wasn’t lost on me how much Molly loved my flat stomach. Her nails had always lingered in the dips of my washboard abs. If I had the chance to get her into bed, to win her trust and heart once more, I wanted every bit of stamina I’d once had to make her toes curl.
“Done.” I breathed heavily after finishing the last rep. “What’s next?”
Ashley smiled. “I think that’s it for today. Don’t overdo it.”
“I don’t want to back off.”
“You’re doing great, Finn. That’s plenty for today.” Her hand rested on my shoulder. “Though, if you want to hang out with me, you’re my last patient for the day. I was thinking of going downtown and grabbing a drink after work.”
“Uh . . .” A rush of panic hit as I scrambled for what to say. Ashley was nice. She was beautiful and the hints she’d been dropping hadn’t been missed. But I’d hoped she’d picked up on the fact that I only had eyes for Molly. Besides, wasn’t there some rule about not dating patients? I wasn’t sure how that worked for physical therapists.
“Sorry,” a voice called behind me. “He’s already got a date.”
My head whipped around as Cole walked up. He’d taken the afternoon off and brought me here today because Molly and Poppy were both busy at the restaurant. I’d planned to buy him a beer for shuttling me here. Now I’d buy him two for coming to my rescue.
“Bummer.” Ashley pouted. “Maybe another time.”
“I don’t think so,” I told her, watching her face fall. “Sorry, Ashley.”
She shrugged and put on a fake smile. “It’s cool. See you next session.”
“All done?” Cole asked.
“All done.” I nodded, then looked at Ashley. “Thanks again.”
“Bye, Finn.”
I grabbed my crutch and followed Cole out the door. I’d decided last week, after about two days of dealing with both crutches, that it was more of a pain in the ass than it was worth. I’d given Max one crutch that he’d been pretending was a laser gun.
“Thanks for that,” I said as we walked outside.
Cole laughed. “You were white as a sheet. I’m guessing there’s no interest in dating Ashley.”
“None.” My heart was already taken.
We got into his truck without much delay, then he turned it on and rolled down our windows. Fall in Montana was a short season, warm during the day and cool at night. Soon, we’d be dealing with snow and ice, but for now, there wasn’t a better way to travel through town than with the windows down.
This weather always made me long for the outdoors. I loved working in the field this time of year. Normally, I adjusted my schedule so I could be out with the crews, planting trees or laying sod. There was just something about working with the warm sun on my back, sweat dripping down my body, that made me feel at peace. Made me feel like I was where I needed to be.
“Damn, I want to get back to work.”
Cole chuckled. “Soon enough. What did the doctors say?”
“A week or two longer with the crutch and boot, then I can drive again. If PT keeps going well, I should be able to ease into work at the end of the month.”
Work would be dwindling by then, but anything was better than nothing.
“Nice. Are you still up for grabbing a beer?”
“Absolutely.”
Cole and I tried to meet up for beers once a month. In the fall, we spent our Saturdays watching Montana State football games together. Since he’d come into Poppy’s
life, the two of us had become fast friends.
Besides Poppy, I considered him my best friend. He was so solid, so levelheaded. Whenever I needed advice, about a girlfriend or a problem at work, Cole was there.
Maybe if I’d known him when Molly and I were going through our divorce, he could have saved me from myself. He could have slapped some sense into me when I’d started pushing Molly away.
We drove downtown, searching for a rare parking spot. College kids were back in town and Bozeman was bustling. After a few laps around the block, we found a space and headed for our favorite bar. Cole and I settled into an outdoor seat and ordered, and the waitress brought over a local beer soon after.
“I miss beer.” I sighed after that first sip. “Molly only ever has wine.” She used to keep beer in the house. When I lived there.
“How’s it going with you two? I bet it’s not easy having to live with your ex-wife. Ready to kill each other yet?”
“No, actually, it’s going good. I, uh . . .” I took another drink, not sure exactly how to word this. “I’m going to try and win her back.”
Cole’s glass, which had been halfway to his mouth, froze in midair. “Win her back?”
“I love her. Always have. Always will.”
He set his glass down, studying me for a few long moments. As a detective for the Bozeman Police Department, his stare was always unnerving. It was like he could look right into my mind and pluck out my thoughts.
It was strange that Poppy hadn’t told him about our conversation and her advice to ruin my existing life. Maybe she didn’t think I’d go through with it. Maybe she didn’t believe I’d win.
Finally, after I’d begun to sweat under Cole’s scrutiny, he picked up his beer and took a healthy chug. “What’s your plan?”
The tension left my shoulders. “Take it slow. Try and forget about all the shit in the past and start fresh.” Which would be easier if those fucking letters would stop.
“Forget, huh? Don’t you think you guys need to hash that history out?”
I shook my head. “Nothing good is going to come from us digging up old skeletons. I mean, we kind of already have. Those letters have forced us to talk about some things we should have when we were married. But trust me, the other stuff is just better forgotten.”
I could get past Molly having a one-night stand during our separation if I just didn’t think about it. There was no reason to talk about it. No reason for us to both go through that time again and relive it.
Forgetting was better. And since she’d promised not to read any more letters, I didn’t have to worry about it coming up.
“Speaking of letters, did you guys ever figure out who was leaving them?” Cole asked.
“No damn clue. I’ve spent so much time thinking about who could have found them that I’m more confused than ever. Honestly, I still think it’s Poppy or my mom.”
“Poppy would never lie to you. That’s not her,” he said, leaping to his wife’s defense. “Do you really think your mom would either?”
“No,” I admitted. “I just can’t think of anyone who would care. Or who’d had access to my closet.”
“What about Brenna?”
“Brenna?”
Cole shrugged. “You dated for a year. I’m guessing she spent plenty of time in your bedroom.”
No, she hadn’t, which was why we’d broken up.
But she had been in my bedroom. Could Brenna have found the letters? “Why would she send them?”
“Maybe she was threatened by Molly. Maybe she thought it would be a way to turn Molly against you. I mean, you said you guys have had some fights over the letters.”
“Then why drop them off instead of stamp and mail them? Why would she leave the nice letters? Trust me when I say that if she wanted Molly to hate me, all she needed to do was send a few.”
Like the ones Molly hadn’t gotten yet.
“I’m just tossing out ideas.” Cole shrugged. “Sometimes when we’re stuck on a case, we throw out random ideas to shoot them down. It helps broaden our focus.”
“Well, I guess it doesn’t really matter anyway. From what I remember, there are only a few letters left and Molly promised not to open them.”
“Really? Why?”
“Because I asked her not to. The letters . . . they aren’t good. I wrote them when I was pissed and hurt. They aren’t how I really feel.”
“Hmm.” Cole took another pull from his pint glass. “You really think you guys will get back together?”
“She’s the love of my life. The accident . . . it’s been an eye-opener. All I could think about when I was in that hospital bed was how I wanted to go home. And home wasn’t my house. It was with her and the kids. She’s the best thing that ever happened to me and I fucked it up.”
“I wish you luck. I don’t think it will be easy, but I’m pulling for you guys.”
“Thanks.” I took another drink. It felt good to admit to Cole that I wanted Molly back. It was nice to know I had his support, but I also didn’t want to jinx myself. Molly and I hadn’t even talked about reconciling.
She might laugh. She might tell me she was happier divorced than she’d ever been married.
“I need to run an idea by you.” Cole propped his forearms on the table, leaning closer. “I want to take Poppy to Italy. I’m thinking next May because she hates May. I thought it might be something fun for a change. And if I can swing it, I’d like the trip to be a surprise.”
“Oh.” I shook my head. “My sister does not like surprises.”
Cole chuckled. “She’ll like this one. I found this villa outside Rome for the two of us to stay a week. They’ve got a pool and a spa. They have an on-site chef who does private cooking lessons. It’s the dream vacation she doesn’t even know she wants yet.”
“Sounds awesome. What do you need from me?”
Cole launched into his plan to make it a surprise, from booking the tickets on my credit card to arranging for his parents and mine to watch the kids. The more he talked, the more excited I was for the trip and I wasn’t even going. And Cole was right, Poppy would love this trip.
We finished our beers and made our way back to Cole’s truck.
“Home or Alcott?” he asked.
“Home.” As much work as there was to do, I didn’t want to be in the office. I wanted to be outside, and the deck overlooking Molly’s backyard was becoming my favorite place to set up shop and work on the laptop.
Earlier in the week, Bridget had come to collect me. She’d driven me all over so I could check on my project sites as well as hers. Most were in a good spot, though they were also a week or so behind schedule. But since I couldn’t jump in and help lay sod or plant trees, there wasn’t much I could do other than office work, which I could do from home.
“I appreciate you driving me today,” I told Cole as he parked in the driveway.
“No problem.”
I opened the door and lifted out my crutch but paused before getting out. “Poppy is going to love the surprise. And I think May is a good time. It will make her smile.”
“There’s nothing I won’t do to make my wife happy.” Even spending a good portion of his paycheck to take her to Italy in May, hoping it would make the month easier to bear.
Cole Goodman was a godsend. He loved Poppy unconditionally. He brought so much light into her life, it was hard to even remember the dark days.
I wanted that for Molly. She deserved to have the man of her dreams, a partner who supported her and whose purpose in life was to make her happy. I hadn’t been that man.
I’d failed her.
I wouldn’t fail her again.
Waving good-bye to Cole, I made my way into the house then stopped inside the front door. The lights were on in the kitchen, but I’d shut them off when I’d left.
“Molly?” I called without an answer.
I walked down the hallway, checking the kitchen then her bedroom. Other than the lights, there was no sign of her. Cou
ld she be at Gavin’s house? I went to the garage, finding her Jeep parked inside, so I poked my head outside the door leading to the backyard.
And there she was.
Her hair was piled up in a huge mess. A couple of loose curls were poking out, trying to make their escape. Molly was on her knees next to a bed of flowers, yanking weeds with an unbridled fury. Dirt flew. Leaves shredded. She’d piled heaps in various spots along the edge of the yard.
I leaned against the doorframe, watching her work. Due to the accident, I hadn’t had the time or ability to finish the changes here, though there wasn’t much left to do. A few edges needed to be squared up and the beds prepped with weed block before I laid down fresh mulch. It was easy stuff I could have had a crew come out and finish. But while I’d given them the mowing, I hadn’t wanted to hand over this yard.
It was my yard. Our place. I wanted to be the one to finish it. And I wanted to be the one to plant Molly’s lilac bush.
“You little—” Molly grunted, her hand wrapped around a stubborn dandelion, pulling with all her might. But the weed didn’t budge. Instead, her hand slipped and she fell back on her ass. “Bastard.”
I laughed, loud enough that she spun around, clutching her heart.
“You scared me.” She scowled.
“Sorry.” I grinned and made my way across the yard. Then I tossed my crutch aside and eased myself to the grass at her side. The dandelion she’d been trying to pull was huge. Its leaves were stripped and the stalk exposed, but it had broken an inch above the soil, meaning it would be back.
I stretched past Molly and grabbed the hand trowel in the dirt. With a hard stab, I felt the root break beneath the surface. I yanked it out by the stub and tossed it into her pile. “There.”
She rolled her eyes. “It’s more satisfying if you use your hands.”
“There are a lot of things more satisfying when you use your hands.”
“Oh my God.” She nudged my shoulder, her cheeks flushing. “You’re such a teenager.”
“I couldn’t resist. That was too easy.”
She giggled, wiping a bead of sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. “How was PT with Ashley?”