“He is a dick, but Ava said he adores you.”
She tenses and stares at her drink, her jaw tight. “I wish he didn’t adore me. He’s the whole reason I almost killed myself to finish undergrad in three years instead of four—always pushing, pushing, pushing. And when I pushed back . . .” She turns to me and shakes her head. “Whatever. It’s fine. I’m being a coward.”
“You’re not.” I sigh. “And what you’re feeling is normal. Everyone gets homesick. You’re going to grad school for a reason, right?”
“Yeah, to impress my father.”
“Ride it out. You can always come home.”
She tilts her head to the side and smiles at me. “I wish I were like Ava and wasn’t afraid to tell him what I want. She doesn’t let him rule her life.”
“Doesn’t she? Isn’t that why she’s marrying Harrison?” Suddenly, I wish I were a smoker. Going outside and pulling poison into my lungs sounds like a fucking great time at the moment.
She shrugs. “I think she loves Harrison. But if she cared what Dad thought, she never would have majored in drama or stayed in Jackson Harbor. He wanted her to be an engineer.” She laughs and shakes her head. “Man, the fights they had her senior year of high school . . . He shouted, and she froze him out. I envied her so much.”
“If it makes you feel any better, I’m pretty sure she envies you too.” I wave to Cindy again. “Two more shots,” I say, and when Cindy slides them onto the bar top in front of me, I offer one to Molly. “To forgetting,” I say, tapping my shot glass against hers.
“Are you just being nice to me to spite my sister?”
“Not at all.” I’ve never been mean to Molly, but I’ve always kind of given her the cold shoulder in a show of solidarity to Ava. But why should I do anything for Ava anymore?
She doesn’t want you.
“Okay, then,” Molly says, swaying a little on her stool. “I have a confession to make.”
“What’s that?”
“When I was in high school, I had the biggest crush on you.”
I blink at her. Molly was what you would call a “cool girl” in high school. She was a cheerleader and on the debate team. She was a straight-A student and always welcome in the “in” crowd. She was also four years behind me and my best friend’s brat little sister.
“You did not,” I say. “You were a baby when I was in high school.”
She dips her head and looks up at me through her lashes, a crooked smile pulling on one corner of her mouth. “I did, Jake. I thought you were hilarious and so freaking cute. And then you went to college and . . .” She skims her gaze over me slowly as she shakes her head. “Well, it only got better from there.”
“Oh, so now the truth comes out. You liked me after I started working out.”
“And before,” she says.
I laugh softly. “My ego needed that tonight, so thanks.”
“Ava’s crazy for not wanting you.” She drags her bottom lip between her teeth. “If I were her, I’d at least give it a shot.” She taps on my shoulder. “One. Wild. Night.”
I scan her face—pretty blue eyes, rosy cheeks, and parted pink lips. “Are you coming on to me, Molly?”
Her pink cheeks flame brighter. “Do you want me to?”
Ava calls Molly Mother Teresa, but when Molly was at Jackson Harbor High School, the guys around here had a different nickname for her. Something much less innocuous. I wonder if Ava ever knew they called her stepsister Blow Job Molly.
She shakes her head and averts her eyes. “Of course you don’t.”
Hell. “We’ve been drinking, and considering my seriously bruised ego, I’m not sure I can trust my judgment right now.”
She swallows, and her gaze drops to my mouth. “I could never tell you how I felt because you were Ava’s, but if she knows how you feel . . . if she pushed you away anyway . . .” She lifts her eyes to meet mine. “I’m not the evil stepsister for telling you now, am I?”
“You leave tomorrow.”
She nods. “I do. So maybe we should make the most of tonight.”