“Basically, gut it and start from scratch. New everything, top to bottom. Add a few things here and there to make Molly’s life easier.”
“When I remodeled the guesthouse on the ranch, I just redid the flooring and put a fresh coat of paint on everything. This seems like a much bigger project than what I did to keep my mind off Ellie leaving,” Colt said.
“Hopefully this helps with that too. The more I think about what I did to Molly, the more I feel like the biggest piece of shit on the planet. I saw your parents’ faces last night at dinner. They were disappointed in me, I could tell. It felt like a sucker punch to the gut.”
“They just want Molly to be happy, no matter what her circumstances are, and it was clear last night that she’s not right now. If you can fix things with her, they’ll forgive you too.”
“Jace said the same thing, that he can’t forgive me until Molly does.”
“Just remember, you’re not your dad—you’re you. Don’t become him, become Liam.”
Before I could respond, static crackled from the radio clipped to my belt.
“Dispatch to Unit One.”
I held the radio next to my face and pressed the button. “Go ahead, Carmen.”
“I’ve got a call about a break-in in progress at 311 Main Street in Silver Creek. Caller says a man is trying to force entry into the business. Caller says the man may be armed.”
Colt and I exchanged a quick, sharp look as we recognized the address.
Molly’s.
We sprinted to our vehicles, gravel spraying behind us as we tore down the winding driveway.
“10-4, Carmen. Let the caller know I’m on my way. ETA five minutes.”
Silver Creek hadn’t seen a break-in in years. Who the hell would be trying to break into Molly’s? Maybe she’d been mistaken. Maybe it was just a misunderstanding.
Colt followed close on my tail as I roared down the highway, sirens wailing, red and blue lights flashing.
“I’m coming, Molly. Just hold on,” I whispered.
My hands clutched the steering wheel with a death grip. I’d never had a call hit me with fear like this one did.
Colt and I barreled into downtown Silver Creek, our trucks screeching to a halt in front of Molly’s. I was out with my gun drawn, in seconds. The front window was busted, and there was blood on some of the shards of glass.
I tried to open the door, but it was still locked. I backed up, flinging my full weight forward as I kicked. It burst open on the first attempt, hanging only on one hinge.
Gun raised, I scanned the front of the bakery. All the lights were off, and there was no one in sight. I pressed on, checking behind the counter, but no one was there either.
I entered the large kitchen. Light reflected off the clean stainless-steel appliances Molly used to cook her desserts. There was no sign of a struggle in here either. No blood, nothing broken or out of place.
As I walked in farther, a pair of white tennis shoes under one of the tables caught my attention. Molly was huddled in the corner, clutching a large silver butcher knife. Her whole body was shaking. I put my gun down and made my way to her.
“Molly?”
She didn’t respond, just kept shaking. It was as if she were looking through me, not at me. She wasterrified and in shock. I recognized the way her chest was rising and falling rapidly from the night I came to her house, walking up on her having a panic attack.
I got down on both knees, inching closer.
“Molly, it’s me, Liam. You’re safe now. No one is going to hurt you.”
No response. She clutched the knife, her body still shaking.
I slowly extended my arm, placing my hand on her knee.
“Molly?”
