Because she was my best friend and I loved her as such, I felt safe in telling her it was the best kiss of my life. We kissed again, and it turned into more. Alcohol fueled our desires, and we had sex. It was sloppy, drunk, and we laughed all through it all, but fuck… we both came hard.
And then… we were awkward. But we loved each other enough as friends that we quickly concluded it was a mistake. We agreed to move forward and not look back.
There may come a day when I am old, gray, and reflecting on my life that I might say that decision was the biggest mistake of my life. Not having sex with Mollie, but in pretending it was wrong and we should move on.
Suddenly, I hear something from within the guest room, sounding very much like Samson jumping off the bed. I start to get up, thinking he needs a potty, but then I hear her door open. Mollie exits with Samson at her heels. Her hair is a complete and utter mess. While she had put it in some type of knot on top of her head to go to sleep, the hours upon hours of tossing and turning back and forth have made it into a tangled mass I’m quite concerned she might not ever get a brush through. I sure as shit would hate to see all that brown, caramel, and honey-colored hair have to be cut.
Mollie yawns, her blue gaze drifting into the living room before landing on me. She scratches at her stomach, then sort of stumbles her way toward me.
With a sheepish grin, she flops on the opposite end of the couch and kicks her legs up, planting her feet down so her knees are bent. She glances down at her legs, bare from the shorts she’s wearing, then runs her hands along her calf with a grimace. “Gross… I need to shave.”
Samson lays down on the floor beside her, giving a “chuff” as if he agrees.
I glance at her legs, and yeah… she needs a shave. She also needs a shower and a good toothbrushing by my best estimate, but I keep those thoughts to myself.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather go back to bed and sleep another twenty hours of your life away?” I tease.
She nods again, laying her head against the cushion. “I had no clue I was that tired. Thanks for taking care of Samson so I could sleep.”
“Are you sick?” I blurt out. I had talked myself out of that being a possibility, but fuck… I’d like to know sooner rather than later if that’s the case.
Mollie rolls her eyes. “Of course not, dummy. If I were sick, I would be at some world-renowned medical facility getting life-saving treatment.”
“Then why the long hibernation?” I ask.
She shrugs, her gaze going down to the hem of her T-shirt where she picks at it with her fingers. “I think it all just caught up to me, Kane. I’ve been on the go for so long, living so hard and fast, taking care of myself and battling the great unknown, I feel like I’ve just walked into a brick wall. Is that weird?”
Reaching out, I take her hand in mine, which forces her eyes to come back up to me. I shake my head. “Not weird. I think your body might be telling you it’s time to rest for a bit. You’re welcome to stay here as long as you want.”
Mollie smiles with such gratitude it makes my heart skip a beat. She doesn’t need to be thankful to me in that way. It’s a given I would offer her anything she needed.
“I want you to go take a shower,” I order. “Brush the fur off those teeth. Put on something that’s at least clean, but wrinkles are acceptable given your nomadic lifestyle. And then I’m going to take you out for a good meal.”
Her smile appears brighter, and she nods. “That sounds nice.”
I smile back.
What I don’t tell her is we’re going to talk, because as much as she would like to believe I’d buy that vague shit that she walked into a brick wall and just needs a rest, she seems to have forgotten I know her probably better than anyone in this world.
And she’s hiding something from me.
CHAPTER 3
Mollie
For the first time in a long time, I feel like my old self. A woman who can smile easily, secure in the fact I don’t have a single worry hanging over me. I felt that way just before I went off to Boston College when I was eighteen. It was so hard leaving the bosom of my close-knit, small-town family to move across the country to a big, loud city full of strangers.
I chose Boston College for a couple of reasons. First, I wanted an adventure. That was something that had always been an integral part of my being. As much as I loved the security of my home life, I yearned to see the world, and Boston was a good choice. The second reason was because my father went to Boston College, so there was a family legacy there.
And when I got there, I was just completely lost. Alone, afraid, and feeling like I’d made a mistake. It was the first time I doubted whether I could genuinely be out on my own and take care of myself.
Kane Bellan changed all that when I met him. While he may never know the depths to which he helped build my confidence back up, I can truly credit him with changing my life. Over the years we spent there together, and in the summers back home, he helped validate I am an adventurer. The simple way in which he did it made me believe in myself.
It was that confidence he helped instill, by continually giving me affirmation on my wild notions of wanting to be a travel blogger one day, that helped to launch me out on a whirlwind career of travel and adventure. I can never repay him for that.
Funny that when I find I’ve hit a low point in my life, it’s not my parents I turn to for help. As much as I love them like the air I breathe, it’s Kane I need to be near in times such as these.
Tonight was great—low pressure. I showered and shaved, and, of course, brushed the fur from my teeth. I even took advantage of his hairdryer, because he’s a man who doesn’t mind the vanity of styling his hair, and I was feeling somewhat pretty when we stepped out for dinner. We walked from his city apartment to a tapas restaurant and drank sangria while we sampled different dishes. I knew he was worried about me, but he kept the talk light and comfortable.
I appreciated it, but I’m not stupid. I can still see the worry in his eyes, and I know he’s going to push me on it. Because he’s my best friend, I’ll confide in him.
Yes, I travel for a living. I barely manage to see Kane a few times each year. I try to catch a game of his, and during summer breaks when he comes home to visit his family, I’ll coordinate trips back so we can hang for a bit. We talk by phone frequently, and we text almost every day. There has never been a lull in our friendship over the ten years since we first met, and frankly… I don’t know what I’d do without him.
We have a lovely walk back to his apartment after dinner, the summer night perfect. We take Samson for a quick potty, then, upon Kane’s suggestion, we open a bottle of wine to enjoy on his patio that overlooks downtown Phoenix.
His patio is quite large, holding a gas grill on one end and a table that seats four on the other. It could do with a few potted plants out here, but they’d never survive given how much Kane travels.
We settle into our chairs, quietly sipping at our wine, and look out over the city streets below. Samson settles down on the concrete near the railing, pushing his nose through the metal poles, and sniffs the city air.
It’s Kane who makes a move to poke into my business. “So, are you going to tell me why you’re here?”