“Oh, Molly,” Amy sighed, moving to her ass and wrapping her arm around my waist. “I remember that feeling. I lived with Patrick’s mum for most of my adult life, did you know that?” I shook my head. “Yeah, well, I did. When she passed, it felt like a part of myself was suddenly missing. The comfort of a parent—especially when you’re a single parent yourself—is indescribable.”
“I don’t know what I’m going to do without him,” I whispered, leaning my head on her thin shoulder.
“You’ll figure it out,” she replied, reaching up to smooth my hair back from my face. “I promise.”
“Molly?” Will called from the other side of the door, slamming his hand against it. “Why’s this door locked?”
“We’re havin’ some girl talk!” Amy bellowed back, making me snort. “Go away!”
“Open the door, old woman,” Will said, no disrespect in his voice. “I’m taking off and I wanna see my girl before I go.”
My stomach sank. “I’m not his girl,” I murmured to Amy.
“Pretty sure I felt like that at one point, too,” she replied with a conspiratorial wink. Then she got to her feet and went to unlock the door.
“What’s goin’ on?” Will asked accusingly, inhaling sharply when he saw me on the floor.
“Keep your head down,” Amy said quietly to Will.
“Nah. Want ’em to see me,” he replied distractedly, kissing her cheek before she left us alone.
“I was having a pity party,” I said once he’d closed the door behind him. “I’m okay now.”
“You don’t look okay, baby.”
“Leftovers from the party,” I said with a sniffle, my eyes tearing up again.
“Moll,” he said softly, dropping to his knees in front of me. “What can I do?”
His fingers came up to softly cup the sides of my face, and that only made the tears come harder. I’d known this man for so long. I’d recognize his light brown eyes anywhere. Could draw his tattoos by memory and point out the exact spot he had a cowlick, even if he was shaved bald. It didn’t matter how long we went without seeing each other, I knew him instinctively.
He’d been such a prick before. It was so hard to trust him, especially when he looked at me the way he was then. He’d looked at me that way before, and after he’d left, I’d convinced myself that it hadn’t meant anything. I’d been wrong. It meant everything.
He didn’t complete me. I was complete on my own. But he seemed to fit me like an interlocking best friend’s necklace. Since I’d come to the clubhouse, his side had been the only place that I’d felt like myself. The only spot where I’d been able to relax my guard and rest. The only place I’d felt even close to okay.
I didn’t want him to leave. I was afraid for him to go. I didn’t care how codependent that made me.
“I’m okay,” I lied, giving him a watery smile. “I have to get ready to go to my appointment.”
“You’re gonna be late,” he said with a crooked smile.
“It’s not like they can start without me,” I choked out as he leaned forward and brushed his lips against mine.
“My nose is running,” I pointed out softly. I was pretty sure if my face hadn’t already been black and blue, my blush would have been out of control when he chuckled.
He pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket and lifted it, wiping my nose gently.
“I can do it,” I protested, raising my hand for the piece of cloth.
“Done already,” he said, his eyes crinkling as he smiled at me. “Now you gonna let me kiss you?”
“Careful,” I warned as I leaned forward.
“Always careful with you, sugar,” he murmured into my mouth. I inhaled sharply at the feel of his tongue barely touching mine. I hadn’t needed to warn him. He was ridiculously careful as he kissed me, barely making any contact at all.
But I still lit up like a Christmas tree. Not turned on, really. It was more of a warm feeling. Comfort. Love.
“I’ll help you get dressed,” Will said after he’d pulled back too soon. “Come on.”
He helped me to my feet, then helped me take my t-shirt off, barely ogling my boobs as he slid my bra up my arms and reached around me to hook it in the back.
“I hope you appreciated that,” he said dryly as he helped me put a clean shirt on. “Because I’m hard as a rock.”
“I’m not sure if I should be flattered or disgusted that you’re into girls whose faces look like ground beef.”
“Number one,” he said as he crouched and jerked my pants down my hips, making me yelp out a small laugh, tears still leaking slowly out of my eyes. “I’m not into girls. I’m into you. Even if you look like you went a couple a rounds with George Foreman.”