Page 6 of The County Line (Whitewood Creek Farm #2)

Molly Patrick…

When I’d last seen her, she’d had black, raven colored hair that reached straight down to her hips and blue eyes so bright that the contrast was jarring. They were the kind of eyes that’d shock the truth into you, cerulean, blue that you could get lost in. Though I’d never done it, of course.?

She was always my best friend Maverick's little sister growing up.

Full of life, a bit fragile, and soft spoken.

We used to call her Megan Fox which pissed her off plenty, but she looked just like her back in those early days of acting in The Transformers with her beautiful smile .

I never told her brother that Megan was also my first actress crush.

I’d always looked out for Molly when we were growing up.

I was protective of her in a way that felt like she was another one of my siblings.

But after high school graduation, she’d vanished—disappeared like smoke into the wind.

Maverick and I had kept in touch for a while, especially when we were both working at my family's distillery together and dreaming up plans for the brewery. But life happened, and the close bond that we’d shared as kids slowly unraveled.

By the time I was sent away, that connection felt like a distant memory.

Now, I wasn’t even sure if he and Molly were in touch anymore.

Hell, I haven’t seen Mav since before I got locked up.

The woman standing before me now is very different from the girl I used to know.

The sunlight catches on a small silver nose ring, a glint of something new, something unexpected.

Her long, dark hair is braided over one shoulder, but loose strands frame her face, softening the sharpness in her expression.

She’s different. Her curves aren’t the same as I remember—fuller, stronger, confident .

The way she holds herself, shoulders back, chin lifted, tells me she’s grown into someone who knows her worth.

And yet…There’s something in her eyes. She’s smiling at Roxy, but it doesn’t quite reach them.

She’s changed.Matured. Hardened in ways I recognize in myself. And it’s a dangerous combination for a man like me—someone who hasn’t seen anything this pretty in years.

Then, finally, she lifts her gaze to mine. Her lip’s part, her breath catches. “Colt…” It’s barely a whisper, but that sweet voice I used to listen to tell me stories practically undoes me. “Oh my God. You’re here.” She shifts to her feet. Blinks hard. “I… uh… thought Roxy was here with Regan.”

I step closer, the gravel crunching under my boots, each sound sharp in the silence that’s stretching between us.

I know I could call Roxy back to my side if I wanted to, but watching her jump happily against Molly’s legs stirs something in me.

I’m too close now—towering over her and breaking every unspoken rule about personal space—but seeing her after all these years is like taking a deep breath for the first time in years.

Before I can say anything, she steps forward and flings her arms around my neck in a tight hug. Her hold is warm, familiar, and for a second, I let myself get lost in how it feels to be touched by her.

“Regan didn’t tell me you were out,” she whispers against my neck.

“Thought you were in Louisiana,” I respond.

She pulls away from the hug far too soon, leaving an emptiness where her warmth had just soothed my hard chest. Rolling her lips under her teeth, she bites down lightly. Her pink tongue darts out to wet them before she shakes her head no.

“I moved back.”

“When?”

“Three weeks ago.”

“Why?” I press.

She twists her lips to the side then stands on her tiptoes as if she’s looking beyond me before releasing a gentle sigh. “It’s a long story, Colt.”

I chuckle and respond with a simple, “Alright,” because it sounds like she’s interested in keeping secrets from me. Something we used to never do before she skipped town without saying goodbye.

I whistle to call Roxy back to my side. She whimpers, but comes, reluctantly.

Molly's probably the only person in this world that she’d reluctantly leave.

She’s slept between my legs since I was fifteen years old and missed me for four years while I was sent away.

The least I’d expect is for her to choose me with a little more enthusiasm.

Betrayed by my own damn dog.

Molly shakes her head and gives me a teasing smile as she watches our interaction. “You don’t have to punish Roxy just because you’re jealous she was excited to see me.”

“Nobody here is jealous. I’d hardly say the life she’s been living at Whitewood Creek Farm is punishment.”

Molly’s lips thin as a scowl paints her pretty, heart shaped mouth before she shakes her head. “Regan didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

I can’t stand being left out, especially when it comes to my twin sister.

She used to confide in me about everything—her secrets, her dreams, even her fears.

But ever since I went away, something’s shifted between us.

A wedge I don’t fully understand has settled in, and now I’m stuck trying to figure out how to bridge the gap between who we used to me and who we are now.

How to bring us back to the way we were as kids: inseparable, like two halves of the same whole.

She sighs again. “I’ve seen Roxy quite a bit since I moved back… been walking her and she’s been spending a lot of nights at my house.” She shrugs as if that’s a perfectly normal thing to do. I stop my petting of Roxy’s head.

“Why would you do that?”

She shoots me a smile, and a soft laugh. “Because she needed help with all the traveling she’s been doing to Charlotte. Plus, you know I’ve always loved Roxy girl. We’ve gotten even closer the nights she’s spent in my bed.”

Roxy has always loved Molly. I can still picture those nights when I’d roll over in my childhood bed, expecting to find her at my feet, only to see her curled up on the floor between Maverick and Molly in a tangled heap.

She’d rarely leave my side, but when the Patrick siblings were around, she’d trade me for their company without hesitation.

“I didn’t realize Regan was the one looking after her while I was gone.

” I straighten up, rubbing a hand over my freshly buzzed head as I let that thought settle.

Cash had always reassured me during his visits that Roxy was being taken care of, but he never mentioned it was Regan—or Molly, for that matter.

Regan had never been close to Roxy, so it hits differently knowing that she stepped up.

It means a lot knowing that my sister kept her safe.

“Yeah… I think Regan and her have bonded too,” Molly murmurs.

I nod my head, and then throw her another forced smile to change the subject.

No use in thinking about the broken relationship with my twin that I still need to mend, or the things that she did for my dog while I was gone.

“Well, damn, it’s good to see you again.

” Because despite my inability to feel normal, human emotions, it's always good seeing Molly.

She smiles back. “It really is.”

“Have you seen Maverick since you moved back?”

“Unfortunately, no… was hoping to see him tonight for dinner but Dad’s got him doing errands I think.”

Damn, I hate hearing that. Molly and Maverick’s dad had always been knee-deep in illegal gambling—a destructive habit he never bothered to hide from the town or change.

It kept a revolving door of shady characters at their house when we were kids which is why the Patrick’s often spent their time with me at Whitewood Creek Farm instead.

When I left for prison, Maverick was just starting to get sucked into his dad’s so-called ‘work’—strong-arming people who couldn’t pay their bets.

I’d warned him against getting involved, tried to pull him back and keep him focused on working at our distillery, but it seemed like my absence had sealed his fate.

Knowing he’s fully entrenched in it now? That eats at me, adding another layer of bitterness to the years I lost, the years I couldn’t be there for him.

I glance down at my watch, checking how much time I have before the arbitrary curfew imposed by the state kicks in. I can’t risk some petty violation of my parole—even if all I’m doing is trying to rebuild a life and set-up my new home.

“Maybe we can catch up sometime?” I ask. Her eyes light up before I finish the sentence. "The three of us. Me, you and Maverick," I clarify and then instantly feel bad.

"Oh, yeah, that sounds good. Shoot me a text if you still have my number?” she asks.

When I got out, my big brother Troy bought me a brand new phone to take me into the current decade and I've yet to turn it on. I doubt any of my contacts have transferred from the phone that’s somewhere in my old bedroom.

“I’ll get it from Regan.”

She laughs again, the sound warm and lingering, curling around me like smoke before she waves over her shoulder and starts walking away.

I watch her retreating figure, something pulling tight in my chest, and then—a memory of Maverick from years ago two weeks after graduation.

“She’s gone, man. Just up and left for Louisiana.”

Molly had disappeared south, severing ties with just about everyone in Whitewood Creek. She hadn’t told me. She hadn’t told Maverick. No warning, no goodbyes. Gone like smoke.

The biggest shock, though? She got married.

Barely six months after leaving. I never got the full story—just the scraps Maverick was willing to share.

She’d enrolled in the police academy. Met a cop.

Married him. That was it. Maverick never met the guy.

Neither had her father. But from what little he’d heard, the man was a real piece of work.

Or, as Mav had put it —“a fucking tool.”

“Hey, Molly!” I shout, catching her attention as she turns, walking backward now as she moves towards the store.

“Yeah?” she answers, brushing a hand over her ebony colored braid.

“Where’s your husband?”

Her hand pauses mid-movement before she shakes her head.

“Better get home before someone spots you!” she calls back with a half-smile, her tone light but her words leaving no room for further discussion.

Then she spins on her heel and keeps walking, not sparing me another glance.

All I can do is shake my head and smile.

Molly Patrick... back in my life like a ghost.