He brings his forehead to mine, breathing me in.
"Then we'll figure it out," he whispers. "As long as we have each other, it'll be okay."
For a long moment, it's just the two of us in the midst of the chaos, everything falling, everything fading. And then he kisses me again, wishing I could lose myself there.
"Come back to me." He the plea, his eyes closed as if in prayer.
"I will," I whisper back.
And then he lets me go.
CHAPTER 51
MAKERS AND DOERS
GREY
It's after lunch, and I'm in the spare room again, my hands and heart raw.
Five days. It's been five days since I've seen her.
I've been in here since before the sun came up this morning, my cold coffee still sitting on one of the built-in shelves. I should eat. But I probably won't.
She came back to the house early on Tuesday morning to pack a bag and get her parents' things together. Turns out that her father was in a best-case scenario situation and didn't need a stent, at least not yet. So they were released Tuesday late afternoon and drove the three hours to Louisville.
At the hospital, she asked me to watch over the house and Scout--her Dad is allergic, so she couldn't take the cat.
Funny, since it didn't seem to bother him while he was here, but what do I know?
Either way, I don't mind staying here.
It's the closest I can get to her.
Scout has been following me around like my shadow, though sometimes she looks out the bay window seat I installed, waiting for Molly to come home.
When Molly left here on Tuesday, I walked in the house feeling like I was going to come apart, break into pieces too small to put back together without holes and chips empty spaces. And then Hal texted me that the window came in, and I had a directive.
I've been working on her library ever since.
Tate rallied some of the guys on the team to help install the window, and I must have looked every bit the miserable motherfucker I am, because every day, two or three guys have shown up to help me out around here. The window and seat were done first, and I've been working on the built ins along three of the walls ever since. Haven't painted anything--there's still sanding to do--but I took a break from that eternal task to install the ladder and rail.
I have never missed someone so desperately before.
When grandma died, it was different, devastating. Permanent. I missed her in the helpless way you do when there is no hope, no chance, no reprieve. That grief was a finality.
Molly taught me how to hope. And hope is a cruel thing--it makes the missing worse, deep with longing and hollow from her absence.
I step back and test the ladder on its rail, sliding it back and forth easily, the track set tight. Instantly, I picture her hanging on it, smiling, asking me on a laugh to give her a push. And my heart breaks fresh again because she's not here to see it.
Bleary eyed, I pick up the sander and get back to work. I can still feel her in my lap at the hospital, sobbing.I can hear her whisper that she loves me, and a surge of invincibility rises in me. I hate that she's gone. I know they need her, and she's where she's supposed to be. But I also know the burden shecarries there is heavy. They don't accept me and are trying their damndest to convince her to stay, to leave me. And though I know they couldn't change her mind, it destroys her bit by bit.
Molly and I were never the problem. It's the rest of them. The town. Her parents.
My regret is so heavy, my shoulders slope from the weight of it.
I should have been able to control myself. If they had, we might not be here. That fight ultimately caused her father to have a heart attack. It could have killed him. I'm the one who lost control, and she's bearing the consequences.
Every accusation her parents made cut me to the bone. They're right--I'm damaged. Everything in my life is under tight control. But when it comes to Molly, all bets are off. I scared the shit out of them, Molly included, and my hopes that they'd accept me once they knew me, once they saw who I am, evaporated the second I threw that punch.
