Kit (Chicago Blaze 8)

There’s a pillow on a chair next to me, and I grab it and throw it all the way to the other side of the apartment, where it hits the wall and drops to the ground.

“So now you’re the sex police?” I yell, feeling myself come unglued. “You get to tell me what I should like and not like?”

“Isn’t that what you do to me?”

I shake my head. “This. This right here is why I don’t do relationships. You can’t just let it happen. You have to analyze every little thing to death.”

Molly stands up, walks over to the door and slides her boots on, her face flushed with anger.

“Consider yourself free of my questions effective immediately,” she says in a clipped tone.

“Molly.”

“No, don’t.” Her voice breaks with emotion. “Don’t tell me not to go or try to convince me to let you fuck me into compliance.”

“I’d never try to fuck you into compliance. Why would you even say that?”

She looks at me, tears leaking over her eyes and running down her cheeks. “Because I’m angry. And disappointed. But this is it, I guess. Better now than later.”

I walk over to her, a few feet away when she puts up a hand to stop me. “This doesn’t have to be it. I don’t want it to be. I just need you to be more patient and stop questioning everything.”

“You hurt me,” she says softly. “I won’t be with a man who hurts me. So this is goodbye, Kit.”

She grabs her coat and walks out the door, leaving me stunned and speechless. And I can’t even be angry with her, because it’s not really her fault. It’s mine.

I never should’ve thought I could have a relationship. I’ll never be able to tear down the walls it would require. Not even for Molly.

Chapter Twenty-One

Molly

* * *

“Oh, Gram. You have no idea how happy I am to see that.”

My mouth waters at the sight of the perfectly frosted, three layer chocolate cake on a glass pedestal in the center of the kitchen table. It’s the cake Gram has made for my birthday every year since I was a kid.

“A gloomy winter day calls for some chocolate cake,” Gram says, taking two floral-patterned dessert plates from a cabinet.

I know she didn’t make my favorite cake because of the bleak weather, but because of my breakup with Kit. It’s been five days and I still cry myself to sleep at night while curled around Mr. Darcy.

My swollen eyes give me away; no one has approached me at the office since Kit and I split. If they did, I’m sure I’d make them sorry they spoke to me. I’m sad and disappointed, but also incredibly bitter and angry.

It’s not Kit I’m mad at, though—it’s myself. I deserve every tear I’ve cried in the past five days. Even though I’d been burned badly by love already, I foolishly jumped off the cliff again.

And surprise—the landing was once again a bitch. How could I have been so stupid?

“How was work?” Gram asks.

“It was okay.”

“What did you write about?”

“I interviewed a veteran about a war memorial he’s raising money for.”

Gram’s face lights up. “How wonderful.”

“Hopefully the story will help him reach his fundraising goal.”

Gram cuts a large piece of cake, puts it on a plate and passes it to me.

“There’s chicken and noodles, too, if you want to eat dinner first,” she says.

“No, this is perfect.”

“I made sweet tea, too.”

“Gram, you’re the best.”

Mr. Darcy comes into the kitchen and looks up at me, silently asking for some cake.

“No chocolate for you, sweet boy,” I say as I shove a forkful into my mouth. “Sorry.”

“I saved you some chicken, Mr. Darcy,” Gram says. “Come on over here.”

She puts a plate on the floor and he dives in, making little snorting sounds of excitement.

“You’re so good to us, Gram,” I say. “Thank you.”

“I like taking care of you and Mr. Darcy. You’re my whole world.”

My heart swells with love for her. “You’ve always made my bad days feel better.”

“Was today better than yesterday?”

I shrug. “About the same.”

“You’ll be okay. It may take time for you to realize this was for the best.”

“You think so?”

Gram gives me a puzzled look. “Well, you said it was for the best, so it is. You know best when it comes to your heart.”

I sigh softly. “I hope so. But who knows? I miss him a lot.”

“Maybe fate will bring the two of you together again.”

I shake my head. “I don’t think things can ever go back to the way they were. We both said some awful things to each other.”

“Your grandpa and I had some of those fights, too, and we loved each other for almost fifty years.”

“Gram, you’re sweeter than I am. I said…some really mean things to Kit.”

“I once called your grandfather a cock-sucking bastard, and he forgave me.”