“I’ll stop by your place on my way out to Jace’s. Tomorrow’s boys’ night.”
“What do you do at boys’ night, compare fantasy football stats and argue about brisket techniques? Seems like something right up your old man alley.”
“You’re on thin ice, Molly James. Tread lightly.”
“There’s that middle name again,” she said, winking at me and forcing a smile to spread across my face.
Dammit.
“Are you like this with everyone, or do you specifically like to pick on me?” I asked, grabbing a brown container off the counter and sneaking a couple of chocolate fudge brownies inside for later.
“You make it too easy to get under your skin. You’re like a super strict drill sergeant ready to attack at any second the way you waltz around, all stiff shoulders and pinched face. You’re asking for it,honestly,” she said, watching me sneak the brownies, not so secretly.
“I feel like I’m being bullied right now.”
“I’m the exact same way with my brothers. You’ve been lingering around the ranch since we were kids, so you’ve been around long enough to know that bullying is my love language. You’re practically the third brother I never wanted,” she deadpanned.
Her words stung a little, but I wasn't sure why.
“Can’t pick your family, right?” I joked, closing the lid on the box.
“I never really understood that saying,” she said, tilting her head, her dirty-blonde hair falling off her shoulder.
“That’s because your family is so close. You guys love each other unconditionally. Some families only love each other under certain conditions, Molly,” I explained, thinking about my own dysfunctional family.
My dad was a successful attorney in Great Falls, and my mom stayed at home. To most people, that probably looked like a picture-perfect life. But if you pulled back the curtain, all you’d find was chaos.
My dad had always wanted me to follow in his footsteps: to go to college, become a lawyer, get married, and have a few kids. That was his version of success, but it wasn’t mine. I didn’t want to wear a suitand tie every day or to make deals with devils to get ahead in life. I wanted to catch the devils instead.
“What’s your family like,” she asked, not realizing she was ripping the scab off an old wound.
“Long story short—nothing short of a disaster,” I admitted, unsure why I was being so honest. Usually I just said “fine” and kept it short and sweet. That was easier than explaining my entire life and childhood trauma to complete strangers.
Molly patted the seat under the countertop, motioning for me to sit down.
“Lucky for you, I’m a good listener. Plus we’re closed for the day, so I have all the time in the world,” she said, eagerly waiting for me to sit and start talking.
My fingers tapped the side of the carton I was holding. I wasn’t very good at storytelling. I was no Molly McKinley after all.
“Lemon bars. Tomorrow, or else,” I reminded her as I turned and walked out the front door, taking the easy way out in the end.
Chapter 3 – Molly
I wasn’t sure what age I started having panic attacks. If I had to make a best guess, I’d say it was sometime in middle school.
I’d been to doctor after doctor, and they all wanted me to take some kind of anxiety medication. Along with the prescription, they always gave me the same speech—try to relax more, get more sleep, so on and so forth—but that was easier said than done when you owned your business and lived alone.
Sure, the bakery was a great distraction from my twisted thoughts, but once I got home, that’s when things got hard. I was alone with my own mind. It was like a bouncy ball ricocheting inside my skull, slamming from side to side, cycling through everything that could go wrong and every problem that needed solving immediately.
Did you balance the register before you left?
Don’t forget to order more sugar before Thursday or we’ll run out.
What if someone breaks in one night and steals everything and you have to shut down the bakery?
Silver Creek was one of the safest towns in Montana, but my brain didn’t care about that. It didn’tuse logic when it was trying to trick me; it used chaos instead.
One of the best distractions I’d found was mother nature. That’s why, if you came to my house, the first things you’d notice were my garden and my chicken coops. If you wanted fresh vegetables or fresh eggs, I was your girl.
