Page 84 of Cash

My heart crumples. Leaning my forehead against the door, a moon rises in my throat. “Not crazy. He was your dad. I miss him too. So fucking much, I…can’t even tell you.”

“Being back here—working with y’all—I just—I missed out on so much. If I had known what life was really like here…I mean, I would’velovedto be out working on the ranch with Dad. I think I’m starting to understand…”

I suck in a breath. “What?”

“Why he never wanted to leave.” She sounds so sad that for a second, my grip tightens on the doorknob. Do I go in there? Comfort her?

I can comfort her from here, best as I can.

“I know you have regrets, Mollie. But seeing you today—” I swallow. “You’re doing the right thing.”

She scoffs, the sound echoing inside the bathroom. “Maybe. But whether it’s right or wrong, I’m too late.”

“It’s never too late to start over. Take the lessons you learned and try to do better with the people who are still around.” I let go of the doorknob. A wave of grief moves through me, filling my legs with a familiar heaviness. “What else can you do?”

“Not be an asshole, for starters.”

I grin, despite the sting in my eyes. “I’m working on it.”

“I’m talking about me. I was an asshole to my dad. I mean, you were an asshole to me, don’t get me wrong?—”

“Past tense.”

“What?”

“You said Iwasan asshole. That mean you think I’m not anymore?”

A pause.

Somehow, I know she’s grinning too when she replies, “You’re growing on me.”

There’s a flutter in my stomach.

A stupid, inconvenient fucking flutter that simultaneously brings a smile to my face and brings my grief that much closer to the surface.

“You can cry, too, you know,” Mollie says, reading my mind. “I can’t even see you, so it’ll be like it never happened.”

I wipe away a tear. “I’m fine with crying.”

“But you’re just too busy to do it.”

I chuckle. “Something like that.”

Everything about this is weird. Us having a conversation through a door while Mollie’s naked in my bathtub. Mollie being here at all.

The weirdest part? I feel strangelysafein this moment. Maybe it’s the privacy the door affords us, or maybe it’s because I’m just too damn tired to keep my guard up and my feelings buried. Whatever the reason, I’m not scared to bare my heart.

Warning bells go off inside my head. I’m not like this. I don’t do this.

But here I am, doing it.

Here I am, turning around and sinking to the floor, my back to the door. Sipping my beer, I try to breathe despite the elephant sitting on my chest.

“You still there?” Mollie asks.

“I’m still here.”

“Tell me about your parents.”