by Lexi Ryan
Molly laughs. “Can’t be half as bad as New York.”
“True,” I mutter, dropping my gaze back to my drink.
“So, when’s the wedding?” Molly asks Ava.
Right. Because Ava and Jake brought us here to announce their engagement, not so Molly McKinley could steal my boyfriend and fuck up my life. How could I forget?
“I’m not sure yet,” Ava says.
Jake wraps his arm around her shoulders and pulls her into his side. “As soon as possible.”
“We agreed we need to make our plans around Ethan and Nic,” she says. She turns to Molly. “Jake’s brother and his girlfriend got engaged in July, and we don’t want to steal their thunder.”
“I agreed to no such thing,” Jake says before planting a kiss on the top of Ava’s head.
“Jake wants to get married before the baby is born.” Ava puts her hand on her still-flat stomach. “So it won’t be a long engagement.”
“Tried to get her to marry me at the courthouse tonight,” Jake says, “but she wouldn’t do it.”
Ava shakes her head. “Your mom would kill you.”
“Nah, she’d stop short of murder, and it would be worth it.” Jake’s eyes fill with wonder as he stares at his bride-to-be.
Damn, they’re cute. And so good together they almost make you believe in the power of love and happily-ever-after. A few months ago, I thought Colton and I were just like them. Of course, a few months ago, I wasn’t hiding a pregnancy or convinced my boyfriend was cheating on me.
How quickly things can change.
“Another round?” the waitress asks.
“I should get out of here.” I reach for my purse, slinging it over one shoulder. “It’s been a long day, and I’m tired.”
“No, stay,” Ava says. “Come on, Ellie. Just a little longer?”
“Maybe you need another drink?” Molly says. She waves to my glass. It’s cranberry juice, but everyone who knows me probably assumes it’s mixed with vodka.
“Sure. One more can’t hurt.” I try to smile. This is, after all, a celebration. You don’t get many chances to celebrate your best friend’s engagement to the love of her life, and I don’t want to screw it up. I should be elated. Even if Colton can’t take his eyes off Molly.
I wonder where Lorena Bobbitt is these days, and if she’d be available to give me some pointers.
“We’ll get the drinks,” Ava tells Cindy. Ava’s been my co-conspirator over the last couple of months, pretending to serve me alcohol while I’ve sat on the news of my pregnancy. I never planned to keep the secret this long.
“If you insist,” Cindy says before walking to the next table.
Ava and I scoot out of the booth. Ava’s all smiles as she loops her arm through mine. She hasn’t been drinking either—for obvious reasons—but she’s so high on life right now that she’s practically floating to the bar.
“You’re really glowing, and it’s kind of annoying,” I tell her.
“Don’t hate me because I’m happy.”
“I don’t hate you. I love you. I am jealous, though. I haven’t had sex in weeks, and while I’m incredibly exhausted, I’m also kind of horny.” I frown. The conspicuous lack of nookie in my life is just another check in the column of Colton’s “unusual behavior.” Not so long ago, he couldn’t keep his hands off me. “Does pregnancy change your pheromones? Do you think I repulse Colton on some animalistic level now?”
“I really doubt it,” she says, laughing. “Does this mean you still haven’t told him?”
I shrug.
“Ellie. Tell the boy.”
“I know I need to, but . . .” I busy myself by grabbing a couple of glasses and pouring some beers. “I’m not ready.”
“Are you afraid it’ll change things between you two? Or is there more you’re not telling me?”
I shrug. “At first I was afraid to tell him because I was so sure he was about to propose. I thought we’d be getting engaged any day, and I wanted him to ask me before he knew about the baby. Like Jake did with you.”
“Does seconds before really count?” she asks.
“It does, and you know it.” I put the first beer on the tray and grab another glass. “Jake wanted to marry you before he knew you were pregnant, and Colton . . .” Damn it.
“You said at first. What’s keeping you from telling him now?”
Ava’s been so busy with summer children’s theater and preparing the new program for the fall that we haven’t gotten to talk much. We’ve had the occasional coffee date, but I haven’t had a good opportunity to tell her about my suspicions. Add to that the fact that my suspicions involve her brother, and I haven’t really wanted to. But after seeing the way Colton is looking at Molly tonight, they seem like a lot more than suspicions now.
“Molly,” I admit. The admission makes me feel raw and vulnerable.
Ava slides a beer on the tray before turning to me. “What do you mean?”
“He’s been talking to her a lot. I hear them on the phone late at night.”
She pales. “Oh. You’re sure he’s talking to her?”
Nodding, I shift my gaze back to our table. Molly’s all rosy-cheeked and happy—the perfect picture of blond beauty. She seems oblivious to the longing in Colton’s eyes. But I guess that’s the way it’s always been between them. I know this because he told me all about it. Months ago, he confessed to me that he once had a thing for Molly.
Legally, she’s his stepsister, but he refuses to call her that or think of her as a sister. When he was in junior high, he had it so bad for her that when his mother moved to Florida, he left all his friends and moved with her, afraid that moving in with his father would make Molly see him as a brother.
Silly me. I took his confession to mean he was over her.
“I really am the biggest kind of idiot,” I whisper.
“Don’t say that. You’re no idiot. You’re just hormonal and stressed.”
I turn back to Ava. “I checked his phone. If they’ve texted, he’s deleted the history, but he hasn’t deleted the call history.” My eyes fill with tears. “What on earth could they be talking about in the middle of the night?”
“Shit, Ellie. You should ask him that.”
I shake my head. “You’re not supposed to ask questions if you’re not ready to hear the answer.”
“I’m sure it’s not what you think.”
Oh, sweet Ava. I bite my lip. There’s so much she doesn’t know about her brother. So much I’ve kept from her in an attempt to protect her and her relationship with Colton.
She squeezes my arm. “Tell him what you feel, and make him tell you what’s going on. My brother loves you. He’s just not always good at the grownup stuff. Sometimes Colton needs to be told that his actions are hurtful because he’s so oblivious.”
I grab another glass and fill it with ice and cranberry juice. “I think he knows that fucking around on me is hurtful.”
She shakes her head. “I really don’t believe that’s what this is.”
Then why doesn’t he touch me anymore?
“Talk to him,” she says softly. “And dang it, Ellie, tell him about the baby.”
“Not yet, okay? Soon. Just . . .” My gaze drifts back to the table and to Colton, who’s now sitting on the opposite side of the booth by Molly. I hate them both so much right now. “She’s really moving back here?” I ask Ava. “I thought she hated Jackson Harbor.”
Ava shrugs. “Brayden decided he wanted to open a tasting room on the other side of town—you know, a place for the beer connoisseurs who don’t want the bar atmosphere and aren’t looking for a meal. He offered the job of running it to her, and I guess the offer was just too good to refuse.”
“Remind me to thank him,” I grumble.
We finish loading the tray and head back to the booth and toward the group’s raucous laughter. Colton’s whispering something to Molly.
Her gaze snaps to meet mine, and she blushes. “Is one of those beers f
or me?” she asks.
I want to throw it in her face. Instead, I pass it over, along with everyone else’s drinks, before excusing myself for the bathroom. I hide in a locked stall and squeeze my eyes shut.
I can do this. I can go out there and sip on my cranberry juice for fifteen more minutes, and then take my boyfriend and get out of here.
Another wave of nausea rolls over me, and I rest my head against the cool metal of the stall door. I have no idea why the world calls this “morning sickness.” Mine is more like “morning okayness.” I can eat and function like a healthy human the first few hours of the day. It’s the remaining hours that present a challenge. And while I haven’t actually vomited, most days I’d choose puking over persistent nausea.
“Did you see who’s out there with the Jacksons?” someone says outside the stall.
“You mean that Ellie girl?”
I peek through the crack in the door and see two girls standing at the sink, reapplying lip gloss. The blonde is tall and hippy, and the brunette is short and painfully thin. I can’t remember their names, but I met them at yoga once and have seen them around Jackson Brews a few times. I hold my breath, trying to stay quiet. In terms of small-town gossip, I’m never privy to much, but I know Jackson Harbor isn’t immune. It sounds like I’m about to get a taste of it.
“I’m not talking about Ellie,” the blonde says, “but she’d better watch out. Molly McKinley is out there.”
“Blow Job Molly is back in town?”
If they hadn’t used her last name, I’d have thought they were talking about a different Molly. Ava calls Molly Mother Teresa because of all the volunteer and not-for-profit work she does—a far cry from Blow Job Molly.
“I heard she has a four-year-old. Apparently, the Jacksons found out about it when she started working for them, but get this—Amanda saw Molly and the kid when she was in New York last month. She ran into them on the subway of all places. Anyway, she said the kid looks just like Colton McKinley.”
Looks just like . . .
No.
Ava would have mentioned it.
Unless . . .
Oh, hell no.
Nausea punches my stomach into my throat. I put my head in my hands. It’s just gossip. It doesn’t mean anything. It’s probably not even true.
“Her stepbrother? Isn’t that a little gross?”
Through the space at the side of the door, I can see the blonde shrug. “Nah, Colton’s hot, and it’s not like they ever lived together like brother and sister. But you’re missing the best part. The question is, does Colton know?”
“Oh, shit. You think he doesn’t?”
“Why else would she keep the kid a secret? Remember when Colton was thick with that gang from Chicago, and there were all those rumors that he was dealing? Maybe Molly knew he was involved in that stuff and didn’t want him around her kid. Anyway, now Molly’s moving back to Jackson Harbor, and there’s gonna be a shit storm of drama.”
Are these bitches right? I want to laugh off what I’m hearing, but on some level it kind of makes sense. Just over two months ago, the Jacksons found out about Molly’s baby, and it almost ruined Jake and Ava. It all ended up working out for them, but it wasn’t much later that Colton started withdrawing.
“Why’s she moving back now?” the brunette asks. “She’s hardly been here since she left for college.”
“I know, right? I feel like I need to lock up my husband.”
“No kidding. That girl would get on her knees for anyone.”
I hate those girls for talking shit about Molly. Not because I care about her, but because they’re ruining my anger. I can’t think evil thoughts about anyone who gets badmouthed the way they’re doing her.
“And did you see Trin out tonight? Did you see what she was wearing?”
“I know. It’s like she doesn’t even know she’s had two kids in two years. Someone needs to tell that slut her body isn’t what it used to be.”
“Don’t you dare. Seeing the outfits she tries to pull off is the most entertainment I get some days.”
I close my eyes and wait for the catty bitches to leave. I ignore the feeling of my world crashing down around me for a beat to say a small prayer of thanks that somehow I’ve been blessed with friends who are kind and who’d never talk about other women like that. I had some catty friends back in college. A few times I was guilty of laughing when they cracked jokes about other girls, but it always left me feeling dirty and ugly inside. I didn’t know anyone when I came to Jackson Harbor, but it looks like I got lucky when I found my friends.
But as cruel as those women were being, I know part of what they said is true: Molly is probably moving back to town, and she has a little boy who’s four years old and who, up until a couple of months ago, she’d kept a secret from everyone in Jackson Harbor, including her family.
But the rest of it? That maybe the kid is Colton’s?
Then there are the rumors about Colton and the drugs. Colton wasn’t dealing when I met him, but he admitted he used to “do some favors” for a guy back when he was in college, and that’s when he developed and started fighting his own addiction. So it does make sense that Molly would want to keep her child away from that.
I put my hand on my stomach. Why did I have to get pregnant? I wasn’t ready, and everything with Colton on top of this is too much. I feel like if I tell him and he stays, I’ll never know if he really wants to be with me or if he’s just staying for the baby. But I’m terrified of doing this alone.
When I hear the girls leave, I wash my hands, but instead of going back to the table, I cut through the back hallway toward the kitchen. Levi is helping behind the bar tonight, and he might be the only person in the world who knows Colton better than I do.
Levi
“How many years would a girl like me get for castrating an asshole?” Ellie asks. She’s sitting on the counter in the kitchen of Jackson Brews, scowling at the floor as if it’s personally offended her. Like I do every time I see her, I get the combination of a gut punch and a magnetic draw that’s pulled me to her since we met at that party two and a half years ago.
“I guess that would depend on the situation. Is it self-defense?” I abandon my tray of dishes by the machine and cross to her, which, given her mood and the subject matter, might be the dumbest idea I’ve had all night. But let’s face it: this is Ellie. She could be wielding a knife and reciting a recipe for fried testicles, and moving closer would still be my first instinct.
“Not self-defense but totally justified. He’s pissing me off. And we haven’t fucked in months.”
My brows shoot up at that little nugget of information. “Oh.”
She grimaces. “Shit. I can’t believe I just told you that. And I can’t even blame alcohol.”
I carefully put on my best poker face and fold my arms. “It’s cool. Anyway, um, just tell the judge he’d been withholding sex. Castrating a man for not putting out will get you off the hook every time.”
She grunts in a half laugh. “Since he’s your friend, do you want to suggest some castration alternatives so I don’t end up in prison?”
Dump him and be with me.
I force myself to shut my mouth before I answer that question. This thing I have for my best friend’s girl is the worst kind of masochism. The night we met, the chemistry between us flipped a switch I’ve never been able to turn back off. For more than two years, I believed the only thing worse than being in love with your best friend’s girl was knowing your best friend made her really fucking happy. Because he did. Colton McKinley might have been an idiot about half the shit in his life, but he scored a home run with Ellie. He did something for her. She smiled the moment he walked into the room. Checked her phone obsessively when she was waiting for a text from him. She talked about their future together as if it was both inevitable and part of her own personal fairytale.
But something’s changed in the last two months. Colton’s pulled away, and Ellie’s grown increa
singly unhappy. I thought watching them together while she was blissed-out in love was hard, but it’s nothing compared to watching him make her so damn miserable.
“Do you want to tell me why Colton’s about to lose his dick?” I ask. “You know, so I can be informed when I suggest alternatives. Or is it just the . . .” I clear my throat. I could go the rest of my days without talking about Ellie and Colton’s sex life and it would be just fine by me. “The dry spell.”
“It’s not just the dry spell. A few months ago, we were seriously considering moving to Florida together. Starting a life there together. Now we barely talk.” She sighs and flips her dark hair over one bare, freckled shoulder before meeting my eyes. “Has he told you anything? About another woman or . . . any other secrets that might explain why I feel like my relationship is falling apart?”
“I wish I knew.” I shake my head. When Colton and Ellie started getting shaky, Colton pulled away from me, too. We both race motocross and use the same team for almost everything, but he’s been off his game—missing workouts and practices, blowing off races, and pissing off all the people who depend on him to make their living. I scan the kitchen to make sure we’re still alone. “You think he’s using again?” The question’s been gnawing at me for months, but there’s no one I could ask but Ellie. I guess I didn’t want to make it real by saying it out loud.
“I think it’s possible. That would explain a lot.” She shrugs. “If he is, he’s hiding it. I can’t say as much for the late-night phone calls with his stepsister.”
“Molly?”
She nods, and her blue eyes fill with tears. “And now she’s moving back to town. You should see them out there—whispering to each other when I step away from the table.”
I blow out a breath. Fuck, Colton. I’ve been working behind the bar tonight to help out Jake, and I saw the way Colton was looking at Molly. The thing is, I didn’t think it was sexual. Colton’s always been attracted to Molly, but tonight was different. More intense. More like they had a secret. “You think they’re involved?”
