Page 42 of Someone to Hold

Except I do. But I’ll pull up my big girl panties and figure it out.

Avah stops in the middle of the gravel drive and grabs her cell phone from the console. She punches in a number, and a moment later, Sadie’s voice is on speaker.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Do you and the Playmaker have plans tonight?” Avah asks without preamble, even as I shake my head.

Sadie laughs. The Playmaker was her husband Ian’s nickname when he played in the NFL, and while she doesn’t usually call him that, the rest of us still enjoy it.

“Riva’s going to a school dance, so our night will involve Ian pacing the front hall. We offered to chaperone, but that was a hard pass from her.”

“How do you think he’d feel about Luke and Laurel pacing alongside him?” Avah asks. “Molly needs a babysitter.”

“I don’t,” I say quickly. “It’s fine.”

“We’d love a twin sleepover,” Sadie answers Avah, ignoring me. I get that a lot.

“Seriously,” I protest. “You don’t need?—”

“You need a night out,” Avah insists.

“Ian has been looking for an excuse to make his famous—according to him—bananas foster waffles,” Sadie offers, and I hear the smile in her voice. “You’re doing me a favor.”

“I need to deci?—”

“We’re going axe throwing,” Avah says into the phone.

Sadie laughs. “That’s a brilliant idea. Text me when the kids are home from school, Mol, and I’ll swing by to pick them up.”

Okay, I have to admit that in my current mood, a night off while hurling weapons through the air might be just the ticket.

“If you’re sure?—”

“One hundred percent,” Sadie says before her voice is drowned out by the sound of barking in the background. “I need to run. Text me later.”

“That was bossy, even for you,” I say with an eye roll as Avah disconnects the call. “Axe throwing?”

“You have some aggression to work off. I can’t think of a better way to do it than with beer and axes. I’ll even print a picture of Chase to hang on the target.”

“I think I’ll be able to imagine him in my brain just fine,” I assure her.

“This isn’t over, Molly. Not if you don’t want it to be,” she says.

I want to believe her. Almost as much as I want to believe in myself.

14

MOLLY

Soft light spillsout from the windows of Chase’s trailer as Avah pulls down the driveway later that night. “Looks like somebody’s having a low-key Friday.”

“That’s weird. I texted that I wouldn’t need his help again until Sunday night.” Awareness flutters across my middle, but I blame it on the drinks I had between rounds of axe throwing. Still not sure axes and liquor go together, but I’m feeling way less stabby than I was earlier.

She gives me a funny look. “I thought the sardine can on wheels was his house.”

My snort can by no means be described as delicate. “I’m sure Chase can find a warm bed to spend a weekend in. One that would give him easy access to indoor plumbing.”

Her laugh is husky. “As well as easy access to a warm body.”