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Something was wrong. “Yeah, come on over.”
Her voice broke as she spoke. “We’ll see you in twenty.”
That didn’t sound good. I pulled out my phone and called Ransom. He confirmed that they were having some sort of a meeting here, so I needed to get ready.
Saving my work to the cloud, I stowed my computer and changed into a shaper, a pair of jeans, and a black shirt with a sweetheart neckline reminiscent of the forties with little cap sleeves. If all those men are going to fit into this house, it was going to get crazy hot. Stepping into a pair of red ballet flats, I went out and turned the thermostat down.
As I thought through the issue with Molly and the team, I placed out some open bags of chips, a giant bag of popcorn, crackers and cheese, and set out bottles of beer and water. Then I started the coffee to help me get through whatever this was going to be.
The major problem was that Molly was an old soul in a teenager’s body. Over the last month, I really got to know her, witnessing how perceptive and astute she was. She could see things that most people would never notice, which made her a secret weapon for the team.
While the guys seemed to understand how important it was to listen to her, Coach seemed less than impressed.
The doorbell brought me out of my thoughts.
Molly looked up at me with devastated eyes. “I’m sorry to bring this to your door, but I needed you.”
I gestured her inside. “It’s fine, Molls. I don’t mind. Come on in.” Taking her coat, I hung it up and brought her to the island. “Coffee?”
Ilya scowled, but Molly didn’t care. “Yes, please.”
I poured us all a mug and made sure she could reach cream and sugar. She generously put both in her cup, stirring it silently.
I tried to ease her into this. “Hey, Molls? I need to know what you want to accomplish here.”
She took a small sip, wrinkled her nose, then added another teaspoon of sugar. As she stirred slowly, she looked back up at me. “I don’t want anything from the guys. I want them to go back to a world where they play without me.”
Ilya scoffed. “They’ll never go back, kiddo. We need you.”
She shook her head. “No, Peter, you don’t. I already got you guys in far better shape than you were. You know what to do whether I’m there or not.”
Ilya closed his eyes, pressing a finger to his temple. “Molls, you see things we don’t. You choose drills we never would have. You’ve made us so much better.”
She pressed her hands to her warm mug. “It doesn’t matter anyway. You guys are headed back to Charleston after the season ends. You have to get used to doing this without me.”
When she took a sip, Ilya looked up at me with pleading eyes.
I placed my hand on her arm. “I understand, little wisp. You feel brushed aside, cast away, and worthless. Been there. Done that. Difference is I bounced back from it.”
Molly raised her head to look at me. “You have?”
I gestured to my outfit. “You think I would have worn this with a bunch of guys coming over two months ago? Hell, no!”
A little smile crept across Molly’s mouth. “You look good.”
I grinned. “I know! Isn’t it great that I can agree with you? It’s taken a lot of effort and retraining my brain, but I’m getting there. So, that’s why I have to call bullshit on you.”
She furrowed her brows. “What?”
I pointed my red-painted index finger in a circle around her face. “This little pity party isn’t who you are.”
Molly pursed her lips. I narrowed my eyes at her. She shifted a little on the barstool.
Keeping my gaze focused on her, I saw the little flare in her eyes. “Ah, ha!” I declared. “I knew it!”
“Yeah, okay?” Molly yelled, popping up from her seat to pace. “I’m fucking mad, but what good will it do?”
I nodded. “You have to get it out, show your feelings for what they are. You’re not a wounded little girl. You weren’t when you were sick and you sure as fuck aren’t now!”
