Sander in hand, I look around the library, all the shelves and cabinets I've built for her. When the guys leave every evening, I'm still here working on it until I'm too tired to trust myself with power tools. I was relieved when she asked me to take care of Scout and the house. The last thing I want is to go home. Being here is as close to her as I can get. Every morning I wake before the sun and keep going until I drop. It's something to do, some way to feel her, touch her. I would work my fingers to the bone to make her happy, this room the physical manifestation of that truth. It's almost finished, but incomplete, waiting. Suspended. Unfinished.
I've lived my life so convinced that I didn't deserve love that I stopped trying. Stopped hoping. But Molly pulled down the wall brick by brick. Made me feel, made me believe that I could have this. That I deserve this--a future, love,home.
I can't lose her, not for the sake and comfort of other people.
I reach for my phone--the wallpaper is a picture of us, her arms around my neck, smiling so big her eyes are closed. We look so happy, I feel empty all the way down to my toes.
I open our messages, scroll back through the week. The first couple of days, they were so focused on her dad's health that there was a truce by omission. But as soon as she tried to talk to them about coming back to Roseville, her Dad's face went gray, his equipment started beeping, and they had to drop it. Last night, she said--
Every time I try to talk about you, about us, about Roseville, Dad tenses up. Mom changes the subject. I can't push. Doctor says stress could trigger another attack.
When my phone buzzes, I almost drop it.
Molly: You up yet?
Grey: I'm here. What's up, peaches?
Molly: Mom and I just got in a fight. I just don't know what to do anymore.
Grey: Want to call?
Molly: I can't. Thin walls.
Grey: What happened?
Molly: I want to talk about everything with them--you, us--but every time I bring it up, Mom says I risk his health and it's just starting to feel like they're never going to listen to me.
Grey: Give it time. He's only been home a few days.
Molly: It feels like they've already decided. And I can't even argue. I can't even try.
I don't know what to say.
Molly: I just wish they knew you. I wish they could see you. Not the guy from the fight. Not your age or what the town sees. Just you. But they won't listen to me. Every time I try, it makes things worse.
I stare at her message with my heart on fire.
No, they won't believe her, their bias is too strong. She's there, fighting with one hand tied behind her back. There's no winning, not because she's not strong enough, but because the rules won't even let her swing.
She can't convince them.
But maybe I can.
All this time, we hoped they'd get to know me, that I'd earn their respect, but I realize now that was never going to work. They were never going to give me a chance, not on merit alone.
What they really need to know is how much I love her.
If I can somehow show them, if they can accept that, then maybe she can breathe. Maybe this is one problem I can fix after all.
They want to know my intentions?
Only forever.
My keys are already in my hand, heart hammering as my plan falls into place.
Grey: Don't give up yet, babygirl.
CHAPTER 52
