Molly

“Christ, you’re gorgeous,” the guy whispers into my neck. I blink, my head spinning as I try to remember where I am and who I’m with.

My mouth tastes like lime and tequila. Sleep tugs at me, but I shake my head to chase it away and try to focus on the guy I’m straddling. We’re in a car . . . his car?

He trails kisses across my collarbone and snakes a hand down the front of my dress to cup me through my bra. I focus on pinning down my thoughts, but it’s like catching snowflakes. They melt away each time I reach for them.

His car. Yes, this is his car, and he’s . . . I blink at him, and he grins at me. I met him at the party. I smile back, drunkenly proud of myself for piecing this much together.

We’re in the back of his car in the Jackson Brews back lot, and his name is . . . Jason. Jason who likes blondes.

“I spotted you the second I walked in tonight.” He tugs my dress down and scrapes his teeth over the top of my breast. “Wanted to do this from the moment I saw you.”

My eyes float closed, and my head lolls to the side. It’s freezing out here, but my skin is hot. Too much. I drank too much. And there are too many hands on me all at once. At my waist then palming my breast, my ass, in my hair. Another slides up my thigh.

“Stop. I . . .”

He pulls back and meets my eyes. “Are you okay?”

I swallow hard and nod, my day coming back to me in a rush. Remembering Brayden’s conversation with Ethan makes an old, ugly feeling rise in my chest. Like a blooming weed that steals the sun from everything else. I just wanted to forget everything. And then this guy . . .

I press my mouth to his, trying to chase the thoughts away with his touch. His hands resume their exploration, and he tugs down one side of my wide-necked dress to reveal my lace bra.

“So hot,” he murmurs, lowering his head.

I rock into him as he sucks my nipple through the lace, loving the way the sensation obliterates everything else. He tugs the other side of my dress down and off my arms until I’m in nothing but my bra from the waist up.

I’m broken, and no amount of proving myself will ever be good enough, but here—in the arms of this stranger—I can forget all that. I can be sexy. Wanted. Not a charity case like Brayden sees me.

The thought has a sob ripping from my throat, and I press my palms against Jason’s chest to push him away.

He blinks at me. “What’s wrong?”

I scramble off his lap, sitting sideways on the seat beside him. Shit. What am I doing?

“Hey, it’s okay,” he whispers, reaching for me.

Blowjob Molly. God, I promised myself I wouldn’t be that girl again, but here I am, hooking up with a stranger in a dark parking lot.

Another sob tears out of me. Slut. Easy. Whore.

“Are you okay?” he asks. His eyes are wide. Panicked.

I reach for the door handle and lunge out of the car, spilling onto the gravel lot and rushing away from the car on my hands and knees. Not that girl anymore. I don’t want to be her.

The cold air hits me like a million tiny pinpricks. My dress is down around my waist, my bra exposed.

“Molly?”

I lift my head to see Brayden. His nostrils flare as his gaze shifts from me to Jason, who’s climbing out of his car. I don’t have time to say a word before Brayden takes three long strides forward and swings his fist, connecting with Jason’s jaw and sending him to the ground.

“Stop!” I scream.

“What did you do to her?” I’ve never heard so much menace in Brayden’s voice, and I jump off the ground and grab his arms before he can swing again. He’s stronger than me by miles and could shake me off if he wanted, but he doesn’t.

“What the fuck?” Jason cries, holding the side of his face.

“He didn’t do anything.” I tug Brayden away from the car. He lets me, but his hard glare stays on Jason.

“You’re half undressed, crying, and running away from him. Doesn’t sound like nothing.”

“Fuck you,” Jason says. “I’m not a fucking rapist. She just flipped out for no reason.”

“Then why was she crying?”

Jason throws up his hands. “Fuck if I know.” He meets my eyes, and guilt washes over me, nearly drowning out the shame of becoming that girl again. “Did I do something that scared you?”

“I’m sorry.” I’m not sure who I’m talking to. Maybe everyone. This is such a disaster. I tug up my dress. God, it’s freezing out here, and I have snow all over my bare legs from crawling on my hands and knees through the parking lot. “I just had a bad day and I thought I wanted . . . I’m sorry.”

“She’s obviously trashed, and you took advantage,” Brayden growls.

“I’m fine.” I tug on Brayden’s sleeve. “I’m just drunk and I want to go home.”

“You’re a piece of work, Jackson,” Jason mutters. “I’m going to have to rethink our partnership.”

“That makes two of us,” Brayden says.

Partnership? The cold air zips along my skin, clearing my mind and marginally sobering me.

“I’m sorry.” I don’t know how many times I’ve said it, but it’s not enough. I just want this to be over. I want tonight to have never happened. I want to rewind the day and start over so I never listen in on Brayden’s conversation with Ethan.

“Get in the car,” Brayden says without looking at me. “I’ll take you home.”

“Please,” I whisper. “I’m sorry.”

When some of the coiled tension leaves his shoulders, I release him and climb into the car. Brayden climbs in the driver’s side and starts the engine without looking at me.

“Who was that?” I ask.

Brayden’s jaw twitches, but he still doesn’t look at me. “You were half-naked in the back of his car, and you have to ask me who he is?”

“You know what I mean. Who is he to you? To . . .” I close my eyes, realizing what I should have thought of much sooner. Anyone at that party should have been off-limits, because everyone at that party is affiliated with Jackson Brews. “What’s his connection to Jackson Brews?”

“He’s an investor. He was considering helping us expand our bottling facility.”

I bite my bottom lip. Was. Past tense. Because I screwed it up. Blowjob Molly screwed it up. I can’t blame Brayden for wishing he’d never hired me, can I? “I’ll fix it,” I promise, but I have no idea how.

Brayden drags a hand through his hair. “Did he hurt you or try to—”

“I said he didn’t.”

He flashes me a look that says he still doesn’t believe me. “You were crying.”

I turn away, looking out my window at the pretty lights lining Main Street. “It was a bad day.”

He doesn’t say another word until we pull into the driveway of my rental, and he cuts the engine. “Do you need me to stay and take care of Noah?”

My blood cools, and the shame in my chest flips to indignation. “You think I’m going home to my son like this? That I’d go home drunk to my four-year-old?”

“I didn’t think you’d get trashed at a work event and grind against a potential investor like you’re . . .”

I glare hard. “Like I’m what?”

His jaw twitches. “Never mind.”

“Like I’m easy? Like I’m a slut?”

“You’re putting words in my mouth,” he says tightly.

“You’re an asshole.” I climb out of the car and race to the house, all too aware of Brayden following me. I unlock the front door and push inside as fast as my limited coordination will allow.

Before I can close the door behind me, Brayden stops it with one big hand. “Molly.”

I lift my eyes to his, studying his face in the porch light. “Noah is at my mom’s.”

He nods slowly, studying my face but not saying a thing. He’s so damn stingy with his words, and it drives me insane.

“I wouldn’t have had more than a drink if he weren’t somewhere safe for the night. I’m a lot of things, Brayden, but I’m not a bad mom.”

“I didn’t say you were.”

“You implied it.” I close my eyes, nausea rolling over me. My living room is littered with boxes ready for tomorrow’s move, and I don’t even know if Brayden wants me to move in with him anymore. I take a breath. “I’m sorry if I screwed something up with Jason. I’ll talk to him. I’ll fix it somehow.”

Brayden bristles. “I don’t know if I want you talking to him alone.” He stares at me, looking me over again and again, as if he expects to see injuries. “Tonight . . . it looked bad.”

“I know, but he didn’t do anything wrong. I was fine, and then suddenly I wasn’t and I just needed to get away.” I fold my arms, imagining how it looked from Brayden’s point of view: me scrambling out of the car with my dress around my waist, sobbing. “It was a bad day.”

“Are you okay now?”

No. I’m not okay. Because Brayden’s right. I’m broken, and there’s no fixing me. I’m a shattered bone that was allowed to heal without ever being set. “I’m fine.”

I see the word in his eyes: liar. But he doesn’t say it. Instead, I get a single nod. A final once-over, as if he still doesn’t believe I wasn’t assaulted. “Good night.”

“Good night.” And I’m proud of myself, because I manage to lock the door and make it to my bedroom before my tears return.

I wake up to someone pounding on the door, and bury my face in the pillow.

Moments from last night flash in my mind. The shots. The pity on Brayden’s face. The guy . . .

I roll over in bed and press my hand to my forehead, and I remember Brayden driving me home, the twitch in his jaw, the anger blazing in his eyes. His rage was so much better than the pity I saw in his eyes when he said good night.

The pounding continues, and I force my eyes open to look at the clock. Eight a.m. Who the hell is at my door at eight a.m. on a Sunday— Shit! I’m supposed to move in with Brayden today.

I climb out of bed, race to the door, and yank it open.

Carter Jackson’s standing on my front porch, and he blinks at me before turning around and putting a hand over his eyes. “We’ll wait here while you get dressed,” he says, discomfort evident in every word.

I look down and wince. A T-shirt I don’t remember changing into and a pair of boy-cut panties. Could have definitely been worse, but if I’d given half a thought to my appearance before rushing to the door, I’d have at least pulled on some pants.

On the sidewalk beyond Carter, Brayden scowls and runs his eyes over me in a way that is one hundred percent disapproving and zero percent sexual. Figures.

“Come on in.” I pull the door wider. “I’ll be right back.” I want to rush to my room and hide, but pride makes me keep my head high and sway my hips as I walk away.

Once I reach the privacy of my room, I shut the door behind me and change quickly, trying to ignore the relentless pounding in my head that begs me to send them away and crawl back in bed. I was the idiot who got drunk last night. Now I get to pay for it by feeling like death on moving day. Frankly, it’s not punishment enough if I truly screwed up Brayden’s relationship with a potential investor.

I drag a hand over my face. I need to talk to Jason tomorrow. I’ll have to get his information somehow, since I doubt Brayden’s going to hand it over. I need to apologize for what happened. Explain that I didn’t dart out of his car because of him but because I panicked.

Once I’m dressed in a pair of leggings and a loose-fitting long-sleeve T-shirt, I brush my teeth and hair then wander out to the kitchen. Apparently, more Jacksons arrived while I was dressing. Now, in addition to Brayden and Carter, Levi, Shay, Jake, and Ethan stand in my kitchen. At least they didn’t all see my panties.

“I brought coffee.” Shay shoves a mug into my hands. “Thought you’d need it.”

I flash her a grateful smile and take a long sip. “Marry me,” I whisper, and she grins.

“So what’s the plan?” Carter asks.

“I say we load up the furniture and the stuff for the storage unit first,” Levi says. “Then we’ll get the stuff for Brayden’s moved.”

I tuck away my discomfort at the whole situation and turn to the group. “I’m not moving much to Brayden’s. Mostly clothes and some of Noah’s favorite toys. Those things are labeled. Everything else will go into storage.”

The brothers nod and disperse, setting to work on the piles of boxes in my living room.

I meet Brayden’s eyes. After last night, does he want to rescind his offer to let me and Noah stay with him? If his siblings knew I might have hurt the family business, would they still want to help me today?

Brayden just gives me a barely perceptible nod, as if he can read the questions on my face.

“You’re sure about this?” I ask softly.

“Absolutely.” That’s quintessential Jackson behavior. Unconditional acceptance. I was raised by a stepfather who put conditions on everything, and I never know what to make of this group and their kindness. But after the mess I made last night, I need to know he hasn’t changed his mind.

“Can we speak privately for a minute?”

He nods, and I lead the way down the hall. I was going to take him to my room, but I turn into Noah’s at the last minute, because bringing him into mine feels too . . . intimate.

I shut the door behind him. “Do you want me to find another place to stay?”

“No. I already told you I’m sure.”

“But after last night . . .” My cheeks heat. I spent years rewriting my identity, only to have one bad day send me spiraling back to my teenage habits. In the sober, hungover light of morning, I’m ashamed. “I made a mistake.”

He wanders to Noah’s desk across the room, toying with the Power Rangers sitting in a box. “So did I. I should never have assumed . . . anything.”

“Noah and I can find somewhere else. There are hotels and even some apartments that would be . . . acceptable.” I swallow hard as he turns. He knows how I feel about my options, and I hate the pity I see in his eyes. “We’d be fine.”

“I’ve already promised Noah the attic bedroom and to be there on Christmas morning to see what Santa brought.” He shrugs. “I’m a man of my word.”

I straighten, trying to hide the way his promise to my son makes me melt. Letting Brayden know he makes me feel all melty inside—letting him know how easily I could want more—is dangerous territory. “Thank you.”

“Go eat some breakfast,” he says. “It’ll help with the hangover.”

“Hey, asshole!” Levi calls from the hall. “Wanna come out here and help us with this couch, or what?”

Amusement flashes over Brayden’s face, and he gives me one final searching glance before leaving to join his brothers.