Taking the Fall (6 page)

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Authors: W. Ferraro

BOOK: Taking the Fall
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This may be a shutout.

“You sure you don’t mind?”

The smile that was gracing his face now was wide and warm, and Allison had to admit, quite sexy. She knew it wouldn’t take much to know how warm his lips really were.

They walked toward where Molly still stood and when they reached her, she looked toward the two of them and the hurt Allison saw there was evident.

“Allison, where are you going?”

But before Allison could answer, Hunter did coldly, “Don’t worry about Allison, I’ll make sure she gets home. Seems you are keeping yourself busy enough.”

Hunter reached for Allison’s hand and looked at Molly for the last time. He wanted to say something, but instead, he just shook his head and mumbled under his breath. He pulled Allison along in his wake as he headed back down the hill toward the car lot.

Allison, perfecting her role, smiled widely, winked, and mouthed to her friend, “I’ll see you later.”

The next few days, Molly saw little of Allison. She seemed to be spending an awful lot of time with Hunter. And enjoying every minute of it. He made a point of never looking in her direction on the few times she did see him either picking Allison up or dropping her off. It was Molly’s worst nightmare coming true and with Allison to boot.

Molly just wanted to get the hell out of Clearwater Falls. Here her dream crashed and burned. She needed to flee.

On the third morning, Molly woke to a thump and then a not-so-quiet curse. Wiping the sleep from her eyes, she scooted up into a sitting position to see Allison bent over massaging her foot.

“Allison? What are you doing?” She looked at the bedside clock. “It is not even 4AM.”

Molly prayed she wasn’t just getting in from being with Hunter.

“Praying to God my foot isn’t broken.”

Normally, such a smartass comment would have Molly’s mouth tipping upward. But, adding in the fact that Allison wasn’t home when she finally fell asleep a couple hours ago and the fact that she knew who Allison had been with had all appreciation gone from the situation.

Molly brushed her blond locks out of her face, and that is when she noticed Allison’s bags on the chair all packed.

Confusion and dread filled her. “Are you going somewhere?”

“I didn’t want to wake you so I was just going to leave you a note. I’m going to head back to Boston today.”

“Boston? What? How?”

The answer should be clear by one look at Allison. She looked like she was going to a photo shoot. Just like always, her silky ebony hair was perfectly styled, and she wore flawlessly applied makeup. Not to mention clothes that fit her like a second skin.

And Molly knew. Her stomach began to churn with nausea, and she could begin to taste the bile at the back of her throat. This was worse than she could have ever imagined. And she was helpless to do anything about it.

“I’m heading back with Hunter . . . he needs to get back to Yale early and is going to stop off at Boston University to meet with admissions for med school.” Allison turned, picking up her large bag while throwing the smaller one over her shoulder. When she turned back, she had a look of complete euphoria. “I know it sounds crazy, but Hunter and I have gotten to know each other, and I don’t know, it is probably crazy, but I think we are talking the ‘L’ word here.” Allison clutched her chest as she bit down on her lower lip before running over to Molly and sitting down on the edge of the bed, embracing her stunned friend.

The small internal ache Molly had been nursing for days grew in intensity until it threatened to swallow her whole.

With one final squeeze, Allison released Molly, stood, and twirled in the small room. “He is amazing and so sweet. I mean, you know guys like Hunter aren’t in every Cracker Jack box. He is gorgeous, gentle, and debonair, like one of those silver screen actors my grandmother used to swoon over. Not to mention, the way he can get my body tingling with one of those smoldering looks of his. Throw in the way my body reacts when he sweeps his tongue against mine.” She feigned embarrassment but was unable to hold her vicious and hurt filled words. “Oh, Mol, I’m sorry, you don’t want to hear all the kinky details, but let’s just say there isn’t anything I wouldn’t let him do to my body. I’ve gotten a sneak preview of his talents, and I just hope I will survive the erotic perfection of Hunter Dennison.”

Molly thought her world was going to crumble. Her insides were screaming out their despair as her heart broke into a million pieces. Her eyes filled with tears threatening to spill over.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?” Allison inquired.

The most honest truth fell from Molly’s lips. “I’m happy for you. Hunter is one in a million.”

With one last hug and a kiss on Molly’s cheek, Allison jumped up, grabbed her bags, and headed out the door. Just before crossing the threshold, she turned and said, “Molly, I owe falling for Hunter all to you.” Then she was gone.

Molly was frozen in place; the tears ran down her face as if she was standing outside in a monsoon. She began to rock back and forth, trying to soothe herself from the inside out. When nothing seemed to help and the pain just got more agonizing, she slipped down into a lying position as she pushed her lips together hard to stop the excruciating moan from escaping.

Who knows if it was minutes, hours, or even days that she lay there, but then finally, after her body was spent from the physical despair, she moved a shaking hand to inside her pillowcase and removed the well-worn photograph that never strayed from where she slept. She looked down at the multi-creased 4x6 that was years old. And the memory flooded back. It was from the night before New Year’s Eve three years earlier, a snowy and cold night. The restaurant had its usually overzealous Christmas decorations inside and out. The bright Christmas lights reflected off the snow, creating a prism effect around the windows and door.

Hunter was getting ready to return to school in Connecticut. Molly’s mother insisted that he stop in at the restaurant before heading off so she could stock him with food; homemade meals that he could heat in his dorm microwave. When he arrived, the restaurant was fairly busy, so Florence had told Hunter to head into the kitchen and Greg would get him all set up. When he entered, he found not Greg in the kitchen but Molly.

Stumbling over her words, she pointed to where his care package was and watched intently as he moved. He looked very James Dean-ish; with jeans and a white t-shirt under an open leather jacket. His well-worn black boots clunked across the cement floor and just the faintest sound of fabric brushing against itself could be heard as he moved across the space. He lifted the box and turned to where Molly was standing and seemed like he was about to say something.

But then Molly’s mom walked in.

“Molly, where is Greg? Oh, doesn’t matter. Hunter, I see you found your things.”

“Yes, Florence, this is all too kind of you. I will have to keep them under lock and key to ensure my dorm mates don’t eat them all on me.”

Florence laughed aloud but told him if that were the case, she would be happy to send some more to him.

Hunter was just about to head out the door when Florence called him back.

“Oh Hunter, will you get in a picture with Molly. I have this new camera, and I’m determined to get a picture of everyone. Somehow, you two have been the only two who I haven’t captured.”

“Sure thing.” Hunter placed the box down again and stood next to Molly. He leaned in close, causing her to get a wonderful whiff of his cologne. And in the second before Lorraine clicked the camera, Hunter placed his arm around Molly, letting his powerful hand rest on her hip. The particular sweater she wore that night was shorter than she usually wore, but for some reason or another, she had picked it for that night. Because of that, she felt exactly how warm his hand was. She could have sworn he squeezed his fingers when he too was surprised by the skin-to-skin contact. But then Florence said smile, and that moment of wonder and beauty was caught on a brand new 35mm camera.

Florence then headed out of the kitchen leaving the two alone once again.

“Molly, would you mind carrying that bag out for me?” Hunter asked as he picked up the heavy box once more and made his way to the swing door that led to the restaurant.

Molly didn’t answer, just grabbed the bag and followed him. He held the door for her to precede him as well as the one heading to the outside. They walked in silence to his car across the street. Hunter placed the box and bag in the trunk, slammed it shut, and looked at Molly.

There was an awkward silence between them, which had Molly further wrapping her too thin sweater around herself. Hunter stood in front of her, extremely close, looking down toward her and she could feel her body reacting. She could again smell the spice of his cologne and see the lines of his lips. What she would give to be able to feel those lips against her own?

Hunter’s jaw tensed, and he let out a long breath, but he didn’t turn away or give her any space.

Molly found the strength to tear her gaze away and caught the gigantic spruce tree in the town square beautifully brilliant with all its twinkling lights. She loved Christmas and to her one of the most magical and enchanting sights was a tree aglow.

“Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?” she spoke, before realizing how silly she sounded.

She didn’t dare look back toward him, afraid of the facial result of her immature statement.

“Never,” was spoken softly and just what she needed to get her feet moving so she wouldn’t embarrass herself anymore.

Molly began stepping backward, and when she was three feet away, she said, “I better get back in there. Drive safe, Hunter. I’ll see you around.”

She turned and hightailed it back inside. By the time she had the courage to look out the window, all she could see was two bright taillights heading toward the large Christmas tree. Away from town, and away from her.

 

 

 

 

“Come on, Jess. You are going to be late!” Molly Jenson called down the hall, looking at her watch for the umpteenth time.

This teenager will be the death of me.

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