Page 24 of The County Line (Whitewood Creek Farm #2)

“You came!” Lydia’s voice rings out across the buzzing community center, cutting through the mix of laughter and shouting kids.

I glance up from my UNO game with Jenni, my twelve-year-old opponent who’s been making up rules on the fly just to mess with me, and follow Lydia’s gaze. My eyes catch on Molly, standing at the entrance, her cerulean stare looking only at me.

She’s in tight cargo pants, a simple white T-shirt, and a camo jacket that looks like she tossed it on without a second thought.

Her dark hair is pulled into a high, messy bun, loose strands brushing against her shoulders and her lips are the softest shade of light pink.

It’s effortless. Casual. And somehow, it still steals my breath.

She doesn’t need anything more to turn heads—especially mine.

I haven’t seen her in days—not since she rescheduled our parole meeting.

I figured she was avoiding me, maybe pissed about what I told her about Jenni and my need to get involved.

But here she is now, looking like she walked straight out of one of my best memories and wrecking any frustration I thought I had.

Is this what I’ve been reduced to? A wreck of a man who only stops thinking about rage and revenge when Molly’s in the room. Whatever this is, I need to figure it out because Molly might think that my interest in her is new, but I think I’ve always noticed her and always knew she was different.

She just wasn’t ready for me.

After giving Lydia a hug, she moves through the space towards me easily, making the chaos in my mind feel a little further away.

For the last forty-five minutes, I’ve been trying to bring up the subject that’s been clawing at my insides, but the words feel stuck.

Which, I’m sure, only makes me seem more awkward than usual to my Little today.

Thankfully, Jenni hasn’t said anything about it.

She catches my stare, follows it to Molly, then back to me.

Her sharp little eyes narrow, lips curling into a knowing smirk.

“You like this girl who’s walking over here,” she teases at me quietly, her tone dripping with preteen smugness.

“She’s my friend,” I mutter, shooting her a side-eye. “Don’t make this weird.”

She snickers, clearly not intimidated by my threat.

Molly reaches our table, and I immediately notice that something isn’t right. There’s a shadow in her expression, a tightness in her jaw, and when she gets closer, I swear I see the faint traces of dried tears on her cheeks. My fists clench the cards in my hands so tightly they start to tear.

“Hey,” she says, her voice soft and careful. “Mind if I join you two?”

Jenni shrugs. “Sure. We’re playing UNO.”

Molly slides into the seat next to me, but she doesn’t look my way.

Instead, she zeroes in on Jenni, who’s already shuffling the cards with her usual chaotic enthusiasm, launching into a full-blown monologue about how much I suck at this game and how she’s hoping Molly will be a more worthy opponent.

But I see it.

The way Molly’s shoulders carry a little more weight than usual. The slight tremor in her fingers when she reaches for a card. The way she’s trying so damn hard to act normal and pretend that everything is fine.

I lean in, dropping my voice so only she can hear as I whisper in her ear, “Who hurt you?”

Her scent—wildflowers, sunshine, something purely her—wraps around me, making the concern in my chest pull even tighter. It takes me back. Back to the little girl I used to look out for. The one I would’ve fought the whole world for.

But Molly isn’t that girl anymore. She’s strong. Unshakable. Or at least, I thought she was. Maybe that was my mistake, not asking her how she was doing when I was caught up in Jenni.

If something has pushed her this far to tears, it’s not small. It’s not something she can just shake off. And whoever or whatever did this?

I’ll make it right – or die trying.

“No thinking I can’t handle,” she whispers back, giving me a pointed stare. If we thought we were being discrete, we failed miserably because when I finally tear my gaze away from Molly, Jenni’s staring at us curiously.

“Okay… weirdos,” she whispers under her breath before laying down a reverse and a Draw Four card back to back.

“What rules are these?” Molly asks.

“My special ones,” Jenni responds, and Molly shakes her head with a smile.

“Okay, then catch me up on what we’re playing,” Molly says with a playful smirk, and the game takes off.

From that moment on, it’s chaos. I’m hopelessly out of my depth, struggling to keep up with whatever warped version of the game that Jenni’s concocted this time, while Molly and Jenni chatter away like old friends.

I can’t focus. Molly’s presence is magnetic, her laugh slipping under my skin and distracting me at every turn from what I want to know. She’s here, but she’s not here .

After a few rounds where I’m consistently the first one out—no surprise—Molly turns to me with that sweet, disarming smile that could melt stone and has me leaning back slightly out of pure shock.

Her hand lands lightly on my thigh, and my heart stumbles instantly.

Fuck, there’s something about a woman’s touch when you haven’t been touched in so long.

Or maybe it’s just Molly.

“Do you mind if Jenni and I chat for a few minutes?” she asks softly, her voice laced with hidden meaning.

I arch a brow curiously but decide not to press. “Sure. I’ll grab us some drinks.”

I step away from the table, heading for the drink station, but I can’t help sneaking a glance back.

They’re already leaning in close, their heads almost touching as they talk about something that doesn’t look like the game.

Moments later, laughter bursts from their corner, light and carefree. I shake my head with a grin.

Girls.

After giving them what feels like is enough time to discuss whatever Molly wanted, I return with three plastic cups of what I think is orange soda. The murky liquid doesn’t exactly scream quality, but it’s what’s available today along with the usual stale pizza that I’m avoiding.

Jenni wrinkles her nose the second I set the cup down in front of her and shoves it away dramatically. Molly, never one to make someone feel uncomfortable, takes hers with a polite smile, though she doesn’t take a sip.

“Thanks,” she says, and I feel absurdly proud for half a second—until I take a swig of my own drink.

It’s flat.

Really flat.

They were right to pass on it.

I set my cup down with a grimace and glance at the two of them, now clearly sharing an inside joke at my expense. Molly’s eyes sparkle with amusement as Jenni struggles to suppress a snort of laughter.

“Two for two, huh?” I mutter, shaking my head at both.

Molly nudges me playfully. “It’s the thought that counts. Thanks for thinking of us.”

Jenni smirks, holding up a card like a trophy. “If a drink has the right amount of carbonation to it, I expect the fizzy bubbles to burn my nostrils from an appropriate distance away. I could tell that was flat the second you set it down.”

I chuckle despite myself, rolling my eyes at the little menace. Molly’s laughter joins mine, and for a moment, it’s like nothing else exists. Just us three and this lightness, laughter and the absurdity of the whole situation.

“So, how do you two know each other?” Jenni asks, her curious brown eyes prying in a way I know will get her in trouble someday.

Molly smiles and takes it in stride. “We went to high school together. Growing up, he was best friends with my older brother, so we spent a lot of our time together as kids on his family’s farmstead.”

I appreciate the fact that she’s left out that part about her being my current parole officer. Jenni doesn’t need those details though I’m sure she’s already figured that out.

“You live on a farm?”

I nod. “An egg farm.”

She wrinkles her nose. “What’s that?”

“We raise chickens and sell their eggs.”

She thinks for a moment, and I can see the wheels turning. “Interesting. And did you guys ever date?”

Molly shakes her head. “No, we’ve just always been great friends.”

“Why not? Don’t they say the best relationships are ones that start out as friends?”

I hear Molly hesitate and know I should help her out here but I’m curious to know what she’s going to say.

She reaches across the table and pats Jenni’s hand gently.

“While I’m sure that’s true, sometimes getting in a relationship with your friend can ruin the friendship if the relationship ends up ending. ”

Well, damn.

“Why would you assume that it’s going to end?” Jenni pries.

Molly glances at me, eyes wide like she’s silently begging for backup, but I just sit back and smirk.

“Um… well…” She flounders, her panic obvious, which only makes me chuckle and shake my head.

Luckily, Jenni doesn’t wait for an answer before barreling right into her next thought.

“So why is Colt volunteering? Usually, it’s either people who love this kind of thing or people who are forced to.”

I choke mid-sip on the god-awful orange soda—partly because it’s disgusting, partly because I didn’t even realize I’d grabbed another sip just to avoid answering Jenni’s question, and mostly because I wasn’t expecting her to call me out like that.

“I’ll let Colt answer that one,” Molly volleys the question to me.

I hum for a second, gathering my thoughts. “I did something and got in trouble for it.”

Jenni’s eyes narrow.

Molly turns back to Jenni. “Colt was defending someone who was in a lot of trouble and couldn’t defend themselves.

And sadly, sometimes the law doesn’t do the right thing.

They put the blame on him for doing a good thing.

Remember what we talked about?” she asks and now I’m infinitely more curious at what they were discussing while I was gone.

She nods. “I see… So, people in authority don’t always get things right.”

“Sort of. Sometimes, you just have to keep looking, keep pressing, to find the right person who believes you.”

Before I can prod further, I hear a voice calling Jenni’s name from across the center. All three of us turn to see the same woman that I’d seen at the grocery store, calling Jenni’s name and waving her over.

Her foster mother.

“Okay, so I guess that’s it for me today,” Jenni says pushing to stand up. “Thanks for coming, Molly. I hope I’ll see you again next week?”

Molly nods. “I’d love that.”

Once she’s out of the building I immediately turn to Molly, curious to know what the hell happened while I was gone.

She reads my mind. “I took her statement down and already emailed my contact at Child Protective Services. As a police officer, I have a mandate to report it immediately, but I would have regardless after I’d spoken with her.

CPS will open an investigation, and I’ll push tomorrow for it to be expedited.

I know this might not be the approach you wanted but it’s the right one, Colt.

The legal one that protects you and her.

And given that the son is a minor, we have to do our due diligence here to protect everyone involved, including Jenni. ”

She’s defensive, rattling off the details of how the process will work, what to expect, and her plan to push her contact at Child Protective Services to act quickly despite Jenni saying that nothing has happened with the son.

She explains how they’ll get Jenni removed from her current home and into one where she feels safe.

A weight falls from my chest as I listen to her ramble.

I can tell she thinks I’m still mad—her eyes avoid mine as she speaks, and her words tumble over each other in a rush to justify her decisions and the approach that she’s taking.

But anger is the last thing I feel right now and hell, I wasn’t really angry a week ago either.

She’s thought this through. While I’d been quick to want action, she’s right. This is the correct approach—the legal one that protects Jenni, and, frankly, protects me from making a bad situation worse.

For the first time in a while, I feel something that feels a hell of a lot like hope, and it almost makes me smile.

Almost.

“Thank you,” I say roughly when she finally pauses to take a breath.

Her ocean-blue eyes lift to meet mine, her lips tugging into a small, forced smile. “You’re not upset with me?”

“Of course not. You took what I said and handled it the way it should’ve been handled all along. I shouldn’t have blown up the way I had. I’m sorry.”

She exhales a breath. “I’m sorry for what I said before about your intentions.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Her smile softens and this time it’s genuine. She looks so beautiful when she smiles like that, it makes me want to hold her. This must have been why she’d been upset when she arrived earlier. Perhaps she’d known she was going to have to have a difficult conversation with Jenni and I today.

“Do you want to get out of here?” I ask. “I know Lydia wants us to go to the happy hour with the other volunteers, but I was thinking grilling hot dogs by my new fire pit would be a better way to end the day. We can watch the sunset and drink something other than this nasty soda”

She nods, her smile widening. “Sure. I’d like that.”