She'd told him that one mess-up wasn't the end of the world. That he could try again. That she'd help him with the work that he struggled with.
And she had.
He'd forgotten all of that until now.
Mackie had never believed in him. But Mom had.
The memories with West were just as poignant. They'd been tighter than tight throughout their childhoods.
He'd messed that up. But did things have to stay the same? Could his relationship with his brother be repaired?
He crumpled the newspaper clipping in his fist.
He was done living with Mackie's voice in his head. He was done with the No Name. He was getting out as soon as he could.
Could he start something with Molly?
He fingered the wrapping paper he'd discarded on the sofa.
How had the photos gotten into the frame? Mackie wouldn't have covered over her vindictive article.
It had to be Molly.
He picked up the wrapping paper and brought it up to look more closely at it. The corners where the frame had been were worn. There were two places where the paper was faded, where the tape had been ripped away.
Two places, as if the paper had been opened more than once.
Because Molly.
Molly had wanted to spare him pain.
Molly had wanted him to remember the good parts.
His chest expanded, emotion too much for him to contain spilling up and—
He couldn't contain it anymore.
She'd gotten close, gotten inside of him when he hadn't been looking.
She passed in front of the kitchen door and then out of sight again. He only caught a glimpse of her before he was on his feet, moving toward her.
She looked up from where she stood at the counter, pounding a fist into a ball of dough. "What—?"
He strode toward her. She turned to him, and he slipped his arm around her waist. His other hand cupped her jaw, the tips of his fingers just brushing the smoothness of the hair behind her ear.
He should have waited, should have given her some chance to acquiesce.
It was too late now.
He lowered his head and took her mouth the way he'd been dreaming of for days.
She tasted faintly of honey and something tart.
He drew back a millimeter, remembering too late that he didn't want to frighten her. His nose brushed her cheek, and her breath was a tiny catch against his lips.
He couldn't help himself.
He kissed her again.
