I reached out and nabbed the remote—shutting off the TV so the house was quiet and dark. Then I just lay there, wide awake as Molly drooled on my chest.
She was a drooler. Why wasn’t that shit bugging me?
I’d known little Molly Duncan for as long as I could remember. When we were kids, she’d been this tiny little thing that always had lopsided pigtails and wore shit that sparkled. Always with the sparkles.
As we’d gotten older, she’d just sort of faded into the background of our schools. It’s not like I hadn’t known when she was around, I’d just never cared. She wasn’t a girl that put out. All the boys had known that by just looking at her. And even though you heard shit about locker room boasting and bets being made about getting into girls’ pants, she’d never been the topic of much conversation. She was just there—answering questions in class and giggling with her friends just like every other high school girl.
She’d become a bit more visible when Mason Flanders transferred to our school sophomore year and started dating her, but their relationship meant that she was an even less likely lay, so I’d continued to ignore her.
Hell, I probably never would have looked at her again if I hadn’t seen her at the hospital. Even in a bar, my eyes would have slid right past her.
I closed my eyes and sighed, putting my hand on Molly’s back as she shifted against me.
I’d been out of my mind when she’d walked into my hospital room that night. Between the drugs and what had gone on that day, I’d been fucking rabid. A family barbeque had turned into a shoot-out with some guys that I’d used to buy steroids from, and in the end, four of my family members were dead and my mom had been shot in the chest. Looking back, I wasn’t surprised that the nurses had strapped me down. I’d needed it. But at the time, it had felt like a prison. I’d been in the same hospital as my mother, but no one would tell me where she was or how she was. I hadn’t even known if she was alive or not.
“Let me the fuck outta here,” I yelled, pulling hard at the straps on my wrists. The metal groaned as the restraints shifted, and I found myself wishing that I hadn’t stopped taking the fucking steroids. I needed to find out what the fuck was happening.
“Will!” a voice shouted. “Stop.”
I looked toward the door where a couple of orderlies were standing, but I couldn’t see shit beyond their wide chests. Jesus, those fuckers were fat. I could take them.
I clenched my teeth and pulled at my arms again, my chest burning so bad that for a second, I thought for sure I was going to pass out.
“Will, quit!” the voice said again, closer.
I opened my eyes to see a familiar face staring down at me. I knew those blue eyes that were almost hidden behind a pair of glasses. I knew that dark blonde hair.
“Molly,” I ground out. “Untie me.”
“I can’t.”
“Bullshit!”
“I really can’t,” she said softly.
The tenderness in her expression fucking gutted me and I slammed my eyes closed again as my stomach clenched on a sob.
“Just let me up,” I said hoarsely, opening my eyes.
“You have to calm down,” she said back. Then I felt her fingers in my hair. “They won’t untie you until you can keep your shit together.”
“I’m good,” I promised. “I’m good.”
“I know,” she sighed, her fingers still running through my hair. “But I can’t undo the restraints.”
“Let me the fuck up, you cunt!” I yelled back, my patience with her gone. I ripped at the restraints again as she jumped in surprise, her hand jerking away from my head. “I’ll fucking kill you!”
Molly Duncan’s eyes went wide as I shouted, then shut as she shook her head.
“Your mother would kick your ass for talking to me like that, William Hawthorne!” she yelled back, startling me. “Now, shut the fuck up and I’ll go see how she’s doing!”
My mouth snapped shut. She was going to help me, thank fuck. I had to know. I had to know how my mom was. I knew Tommy was fine. And Rose was good, too. Mick was—no. I couldn’t think about that. I needed to know about my mom.
“Thank you,” I said around the lump in my throat.
“Of course,” she said, her voice soft again as she reached out to give my forearm a squeeze before leaving the room.
She’d come back a while later and let me know that my mom had made it through surgery. She’d also brought my little brother Tommy with her, and as he stood by the side of the bed, she’d unbuckled the restraints. I guess she’d known that I wouldn’t lose my shit with my baby brother there, looking like he was going to fall over. He’d been wearing a borrowed set of scrubs and he’d still had Mick’s dried blood on his neck and parts of his arms.