by Chloe Walsh
My stomach twisted up in knots and I wanted to be mad at her for making it do that. Again. Maybe hanging around with her wasn’t such a good idea anymore, but I liked it.
I liked how she made me feel.
I liked the calm she brought to my life when I spent time with her.
Besides, she was the only one who stopped the noise in my head.
She was the only one who stopped the anger in my heart.
Stifling my secrets, I shook my head and reached for her hand. "Come on. Let's bounce before he sees us." If Wren came outside to check on me and found me coercing with the enemy's daughter, I would be toast. Lately, our parents hadn't been getting along, and I had been given strict instructions to stay away from the Peterson girl. Too late for that.
"Don’t worry." She placed her small hand in mine and squeezed. "I'll protect you from Wretched."
Wretched was Molly's nickname for my stepfather and I loved her for it. She was the only person in this town that saw him for what he really was. Not the good, wholesome family man that had generously taken on a little boy that wasn’t his, but an asshole bully.
Breaking into a run, our feet pounded the sidewalk, neither one of us stopping until we reached the sandy beach at the back of Rourke's sprawling property. He was already in the water, lazing on his surfboard, and looking like someone had pissed in his cornflakes.
Nothing new there.
Breathless and laughing, we broke apart on the sand with only one task in mind; getting in the water.
Making a point to turn my back when Molly yanked her dress over her head, I quickly peeled off the clothes I'd been forced into wearing earlier this morning, feeling more relaxed with every layer that I tore from my body.
When I was down to my boxers, I turned back to face her and frowned.
I was tall for ten, but Molly was ridiculously small. She barely reached my shoulder in height and she had itty-bitty muscles.
Dainty is the word my mama once used to describe my best friend and I agreed.
She was dainty.
Like a doll.
Molly-Dolly.
Wearing a pair of yellow panties and a plain white tank, she looked up at me and gave me a huge, megawatt smile. Her body was lean and tanned, her brown eyes twinkling with mischief, as her long, golden hair splayed in the light summer breeze. "You ready, D?"
Her voice was soft and sweet, and even though I knew she was far from a girly-girl, I couldn’t help thinking that hers was the nicest girl's voice I'd ever heard.
"Well?" she pushed me with a laugh, before lunging for my back. In one fell swoop, she was on me, arms and legs locked around my waist and neck, making everything inside of me grow hot and confused.
Sucking in a sharp breath, I quickly shook my head, forcing the strange feelings out of my mind, before breaking into a run for the shoreline.
"Don’t drop me!" she giggled, as she buried her face in the crook of my neck.
Laughing, I tightened my hold on her thighs and leapt over the waves until I was waist deep in the ocean. Only then did I dunk us both under the water, thoroughly amused with how quickly she let go of my body in her search for the surface.
When we both crashed above the waves, we were face to face again. "Looking a little wet there, Molls." I grinned, not bothering to push my hair out of my eyes. I could see her well enough. That was good enough for me. "Hell, you look like a drowned rat."
"You big jerk," she spluttered between fits of laughter. Her hair was caked to her face in drenched clumps. "Oh, you think that's funny, huh?" Narrowing her eyes in challenge, she dove for me, splashing and kicking in the water as she moved. "Let's see how you like being dunked, Daryl King!"
Feeling playful, I let her push me beneath the surface and then I moved for her legs.
"No, no, no –"
Bursting out of the water, I threw her into the air, watching as her hands and legs splayed out helplessly. Moments later, she landed in the water, sinking beneath the foamy waves crashing against us.
"Oh, you're a dead man!" She half-coughed/half-spluttered, swimming towards me. "I'm gonna kick your butt!"
"I'm shaking in my boots, Molly-Dolly," I taunted, dodging her pounce only to be toppled over by a wave. Dammit.
Moments later, she was on me, wrestling my big body with her little one in her valiant effort to make good on her promise to kill me. "I told you not to call me that," she growled, trying in vain to pin me in a headlock with her skinny arms. "King doofus."
"Keep it up and I'm gonna pants you," I laughed, reaching for her waist. "I mean it, little girl. I don't give two shits what you've got under there –"
"Try it, jerk face," she dared right back, legs locking around my waist, as she dug her claws into my nipple. "I will purple nurple you so hard, you'll be milking like a dang cow!"
"Y'all make me sick," Rourke drawled, paddling over on his board to where we were playfighting in the water. When he reached us, he sat on his board and leaned back on his elbows with legs still in the water, looking entirely unimpressed with our game. "You crushing on your sidekick now, D?"
"I ain't his sidekick," Molly replied, splashing him in the face.
Feeling embarrassed, I quickly pushed away from her. I wasn't sure what I was doing with Molly, but I was one hundred percent sure that I didn’t want to talk about it with him. "No," I finally replied when I had put some space between us. "It ain't like that."
"Then why's she here?" Rourke asked in his usual no-nonsense tone.
"Don’t be a dick, Owens," I warned, gaze flicking between my two best friends. "She's our friend."
"She's your friend," he corrected. "She ain't mine."
"Because you don’t want friends, Rourke Owens," Molly spat back. "You're only happy when you're mad at the world."
"You can leave now." His steel blue eyes flicked to Molly. "Seriously. I don’t want you here."
Molly's face turned a bright shade of red and I knew she was about two seconds away from bolting.
"What's your problem, Rourke?" Narrowing my eyes, I glared at the prickliest person I'd ever known. He was my best friend and that meant I would do almost anything for him, but I wouldn’t let him take out his temper on her. Never her. "You having problems at home again? Fair enough, but don’t take your shit out on her."
"It's okay, Daryl –"
"No, it ain't, Molls," I snapped, pushing my hair out of my eyes. "Far from it." When she moved to wade back to the shoreline, I snaked a hand out and pulled her back to me. "You ain't going anywhere, Molly." Draping a protective arm around her shoulders, I glared at my best friend. "Maybe she's not your friend, but she sure as hell is mine so show some damn respect."
Rourke and I had a solid sixty second stare down before he blew out a breath and dropped his gaze. "Shit, you're right."
Victory.
I knew I was right.
I also knew that he was going through hell right now.
Still didn’t give him the right to put tears in Molly's eyes.
Looking thoroughly defeated now, Rourke flicked his hard gaze to Molly and offered her a half-hearted shrug. "You can stay."
It was the closest thing to an apology she was going to get and we all knew it. Rourke had sharp edges and I seemed to be the only person in this entire town that could navigate said edges without getting cut.
"He's getting married again," came his blunt revelation a few moments later, pinpointing the reason for his hostile behavior.
"Your dad?" Molly asked softly.
Rourke nodded slowly, not meeting my eye. "It's a fucking joke."
"Yeah," I agreed with a sigh.
"At least your daddy doesn’t make you go to church," Molly offered with a small smile.
"Yeah, thank fuck for that," Rourke chuckled humorlessly.
I snorted. "At least neither one of y'all have to live with Wretched."
No one said anything after that.
They both knew I had them trumped…
"
You okay, D?" Rourke asked, stirring me from my memories. "Shit, you're as pale as a ghost, man."
"No," I admitted with a groan, body trembling from head to toe. "I've never been further from okay in my life."
Rourke turned to face me, concern laced in his blue eyes. "Shit." A furious growl escaped him and his gaze honed in on the faded bruise on my left cheekbone. "The fuck did he do this time?"
"Nothing."
"Nothing?" With a deep scowl, he gave me the mandatory once over, eyes narrowed as he completed his usual stock-take of bruises. It was a wasted effort when I was fully clothed in my damn uniform. "Yeah. Another fucking nothing, D."
"Stop doing that," I snapped, when I couldn’t take his stare another minute. "I'm fine."
"I'll fuck him up," Rourke vowed, hands balling into fists on his lap "I swear, man, I don’t give a damn if he's the law or not. I'll beat his damn ass –"
"Forget it, Rourke." I shook my head and glared out the windshield. "Wren's not the problem." This time.
"Well, I'm sending Millie over tonight," he shot back. "If you aren't gonna talk then she can be my eyes." Amelia, or Millie for short, was Rourke's younger sister. She also happened to be my little sister's best friend. "And if he starts his crap with you –"
"Nothing is happening at home," I bit out, beyond agitated.
"Then what's the damn problem?" He reached forward and switched off the stereo. "I'm listening, Daryl."
"I fucked up, man. I fucked up real bad."
"Okay…" He hesitated before adding, "I'm all ears."
"I didn’t know," I choked out, my words a torn admission from somewhere deep inside of me. "I didn’t fucking know, man."
"Didn’t know what?"
"She's been here… and I didn’t…" Exhaling heavily, I let my shoulders sag, feeling the weight of my secrets pressing down hard on my conscience. "Fuck."
Rourke was a smart guy so I knew it wouldn’t take him long to figure out what my underlying issue was.
The moment realization flashed in his eyes, I felt a surge of panic flood my body.
"Molly," was all he said.
I exhaled a ragged breath and nodded stiffly. "Molly."
The Past
Twelve years ago
Daryl
"Daddy says I ain't allowed to have anyone over to play today," were the first words Molly said when I found her sitting on the sidewalk outside of her house.
Tossing the football I'd been playing with into my garden, I crossed the street and sank down beside her. "Is your mama in bed again?"
Sniffling, Molly nodded and wrapped her skinny arms around her knees.
Her long, blonde hair was pulled back in two braids that hung over her shoulders. Her denim overalls were covered in paint, and her eyes were red and puffy.
"I hate it." Another sniffle. "She's always sad and Daddy always makes me go outside when she cries. He says she's tired again, but she's always tired, D."
Yeah, I knew what she meant. Molly's mama used to be real good friends with my mama, but lately she spent all of her time in bed. She used to be so much fun. She played with us, and baked the greatest cookies in the whole world.
Not anymore.
Not since she got tired.
"Don’t cry, Molls," I coaxed, draping my arm over her shoulders. I didn’t like it when Molly cried. She was my best friend in the whole wide world. It made my chest hurt when she did that. "It's gonna be okay. She's just tired 'cause she's growing a baby."
"How do you know it's gonna be okay?"
"Because it has to be." I shrugged. "Rourke's dad told me that John Lennon says everything will be okay in the end, and if it's not okay then it's not the end."
She scrunched her nose up. "John Lemon?"
"Lennon," I corrected. "The guy in The Beatles."
"I don't know who that is," she sniffled, curling into my waist. "And I don’t get what he means."
"Yeah, me neither," I agreed with a sigh. "But it will be okay…"
Present Day
Daryl
Tonight's game was a washout. The Ocean Bay Falcon's ran away with the lead. I should be feeling ecstatic.
Instead, I was numb.
It was hard to hold my head up high when I felt nothing but disgrace on the inside.
For my whole life, I wanted out of Ocean Bay.
The town I'd grown up in.
The only house I'd ever lived in.
My need to escape my hometown stemmed all the way back to babyhood when my dad, the unreliable bastard he was, climbed out of my mother's bed, vanished from both of our lives without a forwarding address, and left the door open for Wren Chambers to climb in.
Within a year, Mom was remarried to Wren, sporting a new surname, playing the role of doting wife, and had a baby daughter – my little sister, Sophie – to fawn over.
The only consolation prize for the upheaval of my life, at the time, was the fact that we didn’t have to leave our neighborhood. I got to stay in the house I'd grown up in, though after the arrival of Wren, home didn’t feel quite like home anymore.
The man that now headed our family had zero ambitions of raising another man's child. From a young age, I understood that. I recognized his intolerance of me. It was why I had my plans. It was the reason I never missed a day's practice in my life.
Through hail, rain, or snow, I showed up. It was how everyone and his mother knew where to find me on a Friday night; under the lights.
It wasn't like I came from an overly abusive home. I just didn’t come from a loving one. Sure, I loved my mother and sister and I knew Soph loved me back, but my stepfather? Let's just say there were no words to describe the intense level of pure hatred that I felt for him.
Football was my meal ticket out of this place.
A full-ride scholarship to college was my shot at a future unattached to Wren and his college tuition fund that came with strings attached.
Many, many strings.
A football scholarship was something that I could attain on my own two feet.
I was so hyper-focused on the game, so goddamn self-absorbed and hellbent on carving an escape route for myself, that I just didn't take the time to see her.
I could only assume that it was for all of the above reasons that I didn’t notice Molly's return to Ocean Bay.
We were ten years old when Molly left, and eight long, blurred-out years had passed since the night she was ripped from my life in the dark of night.
For years after it happened, I couldn't look at the house across the street. Not when it was a pile of ash and rubble, and not when it was rebuilt and occupied with a shiny new family.
I just couldn’t cope with the memories.
With the pain of losing her.
With the guilt.
So, I buried it all down, smothered my tortured memories deep inside the guy I forced myself to be – the guy with the carefree nature, who didn’t give a damn about anyone or anything.
That guy was QB1 and focused solely on football. He never got too close to anyone. He had no plans on becoming another teenage statistic and was getting the hell out of this town and never looking back.
It was easier that way.
It was the only way I survived the loss, grief, and guilt that weighed heavily on my shoulders.
For years my denial had worked.
Until now.
Until I remembered that the boy that guy used to be had always planned on taking her with him.
Fuck…
"Okay, something is seriously fucking wrong with you," Rourke accused when he stalked into the locker room after the game. I was the first off the field tonight and should have known he would follow me in here.
"Something's up and I wanna know what that is," he demanded, tossing his helmet on the ground and stalking over to me. "Come on, D. You were off your game tonight. Your head sure as shit wasn't on the field back there. You're being quiet. You are never quiet. And you look haunted, man. Tell me what's going on here."
Haunted didn’t even begin to scratch the surface of how I was feeling.
"Forget it." Collapsing on the bench, I tossed my pads on the floor and sighed. "You wouldn’t understand."
"I wouldn’t understand?" Sinking down on the bench beside me, Rourke leaned back and gave me his full attention. "The fuck is that supposed to mean?"
"Just drop it, dude," I growled, dropping my head in my hands. "I'm allowed to have a goddamn off-day."
Rourke was quiet for a long pause, clearly trying to mentally pick my brain. "Hold up," he finally said, arching an incredulous brow. "You're acting all weird and fucked up because you're still tripping out over Molly?"
I stiffened.
"So you didn’t realize she came home. Big damn deal," he was quick to defend my despicable actions. "You were ten when she left town, D, and it ain't like you've ever been one to listen to idle gossip. Ocean Bay is a pretty big fucking place, dude, and the girl doesn’t run in the same circle as us. Don’t beat yourself up over this."
"You did," I was quick to point out. "You realized she was back." My jaw ticked. "You remembered her." My tone was laced with a concoction of accusation and self-loathing. I was pissed with Rourke for seeing her when I hadn't, but it paled in comparison to the anger I felt towards myself.
"Only because her mother is buried next to mine," he stated bluntly. "She spends a lot of time at the cemetery and we've crossed paths on more than one occasion."
I grimaced, knowing exactly where Mrs. Peterson and Bobby were buried. I had attended their funeral eight years ago. I had attended Mrs. Owens's funeral, too, though that had been many years before that.
"You knew she was back and you didn’t tell me."
"Because I knew better than to bring her up to you," he shot back, unapologetically. "You were a mess after she left, D. A fucking wreck. Every time the fire came up in conversation, you wigged out. Lost your shit. Blew a goddamn fuse. Whatever you saw that night?" He shook his head. "It messed you up real bad, dude. Your mother said you had PTSD and she was right. You were fucking traumatized, dude. You might not remember how you were afterwards, but I do. I remember the shell of a person you were for months after that fire. When your mama told me that your therapist suggested me and the guys stopped talking about her, we did exactly that. And it worked. You got over it. You got better." He shrugged. "When she came back sophomore year and you didn’t react, I was glad. We all were. I thought you were finally over the girl. I didn’t realize that you genuinely didn’t know who she was."
