Straight Up Love (Boys of Jackson Harbor 2)

I just stare at her, at a loss for words. Molly is sweet and smart. Despite her sketchy reputation in high school, everyone wanted her. She’s fucking beautiful, and she’s . . . not Ava.

Silence stretches between us, as if she’s waiting for me to make my move or say my piece. When I don’t, she releases a puff of air and slides off the stool and heads to the bathroom.

“Molly,” I call after her.

She holds up a hand, signaling for me to leave her alone. I feel like a world-class dick. I know too well how it feels to be rejected by someone you’ve been in love with for years. It’s not a feeling I’d wish on anyone. And, hell, I’m only pushing Molly away because I don’t want to betray Ava. How ridiculous. I can’t betray a woman who isn’t mine and doesn’t want to be.

Molly disappears into the bathroom, and long minutes pass as I stare at the door waiting for her to emerge.

“Shit,” I mutter. She’s not coming back. Because I’m an asshole who just made her feel shitty. I head across the bar and down the hall to knock on the door to the women’s restroom. “Molly?”

No response.

I knock again. “Molly, I’m sorry.”

When she emerges, her eyes are wet with tears, her chin held high. “Sorry about what? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

I don’t know what makes me do it. Guilt? Desire? Loneliness? But I slide a hand into her silky blond hair and lower my mouth to hers.

She gasps against my lips. “Jake . . .”

I kiss her. I kiss her with all of the emotions I’ve had bottled up all day. Hope. Fear. Disappointment. Heartache—so much fucking heartache. And when she kisses me back, it feels good. For once, I’m not alone. For once, I’m not being pushed aside as just a friend. For once, I’m needed as desperately as I need Ava.

The whiskey is hot in my blood and her hands are crazy all over me, and when someone clears his throat trying to get past us, I push her against the wall and double down on this mistake.

There’s more kissing. In the back hall. In the alley. More booze and laughter. Then we eventually stumble up to my apartment above the bar.

The next thing I remember, the sun is pouring in my bedroom window. I bolt upright, dread crawling over my skin like a thousand invisible bugs. Molly is curled into the sheets beside me. She’s naked, judging by her bare shoulders and the way the sheet’s draped across her. One slim arm is on top of the covers and reaching in my direction.

I kissed Molly. I remember kissing her. And I remember more alcohol. Flirting. I have flashes of being outside the bar, holding her against the brick as her hands roamed all over me. And after that? After that, everything gets blurry. Flashes of bare skin, roaming hands, clothes thrown to the floor. Fuck.

After years of wanting Ava and having her fail to see me as anything but a friend, it felt good to have Molly’s hands on me. I couldn’t have Ava, but the stepsister she’s always believed was so much better than her threw herself at me. I knew it was sick and twisted, but somewhere in my petty, self-pitying mind, it actually made me feel better about myself. A fuck you to the universe. To Ava.

At least, that’s what I thought four shots and a couple of beers in. This morning, nothing is better. Everything is worse. Molly’s blond hair lies across her cheek, her sooty black lashes making her look like something out of a photoshoot.

I want to get out of here before she wakes up, maybe leave her a note that says, Let’s pretend this never happened. But I also want to refrain from being the world’

s biggest dickhead. I can’t have it both ways.

“Hey.” She’s awake, blinking the sleep from her eyes as she takes me in. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Are you okay?”

Not okay. What the fuck did I do, and how many times did I do it? “I’m fine.”

She scrapes her fingers down my chest and smiles. “Last night was . . . wow.”

I drag a hand through my hair. There’s no way I’m getting out of this without being the asshole. “Molly, you’re amazing. You’re gorgeous and sweet, but last night . . . I’m so sorry.”

“Whoa . . .” She sits up, clutching the sheet to her chest. “Hey, save me the speech, okay?” Her face goes stark with disgust. “I leave today. You don’t need to worry about me clinging to you or . . .” She looks down to her lap before bringing her eyes back up to meet mine. “I won’t tell Ava.”

Those words flood me with relief. I don’t want them to matter. I don’t want Ava or anything she thinks to matter, but that doesn’t change that it does. What happened last night would make Ava hate me. She’d be angry. Maybe even refuse to speak to me again.

Yesterday I was so sure my relationship with Ava was over on every level. When I walked out of her apartment, I thought I was walking away from her. I was sure I couldn’t continue to be her friend when I wanted so much more. But this morning, in the light of this stupid-ass mistake, I realize more than ever that I don’t want to lose her.

Terror grips my stomach. Loving Ava doesn’t mean all or nothing. It means I’ll take her in my life however I can get her. Even if it kills me.

“Molly . . .”

She puts one hand on my chest, holding her sheet in place with the other. “Last night was a bit of a dream for me. My only regret is my timing. If I’d told you how I felt before she rejected you, this could have been about us instead of about her.” She shakes her head. “But then, this probably wouldn’t have happened at all, would it?”