It had surprised her that she’d never heard Jake’s name pop up over the years, the way she’d begun to hear of the Lane Brothers. Still, she’d assumed he was out there, doing something amazing, something behind the scenes but high powered, perhaps, and that his name would resurface in time.
“But you must’ve been approached by other managers, Jake?”
“A few.” He sighs. “But I was in a terrible place. I didn’t want to do it without Sam and Hale, but I literally couldn’t do it without you.” He studies her, wistful. “You were my muse. I always told you that.”
Guilt wrenches Molly’s insides, so intensely she can’t speak.
“Then, finally, I got help.” Jake blinks. “Well, what really happened is I bumped into Sisi.” Light comes back into his eyes when he says this, and Molly feels a strange mix of relief and unwelcome spite.
She listens to him describe their reunion—how Sabrina got him to start seeing a therapist, how she convinced her father to give him the job at Randolph Group, insisting that a change of career—a fresh start—would do Jake good.
“I knew she wanted to get married,” he continues. “Early on, she made that clear. It took me longer to get there, but eventually, of course, I did. And now, here we are.”
The sheer irony of it hits Molly all over again. A fresh wave. “It’s wild, Jake.” She shakes her head. “I finally meet a woman in Flynn Cove who I actually connect with—who I actually like—and she turns out to be your wife.” She pauses, tempted to mention the fertility issues they’re both experiencing, but she doesn’t want to betray Sabrina.
“If it’s any consolation, she really likes you, too.” Jake’s gaze lands on Molly’s, and she feels something sizzle inside her. Butter landing on a hot pan. “How could she not? Everyone likes you. You’re kind and humble and good; you put people at ease. You’re a treasure, Moll.” His eyes are so blue they’re piercing, hard to look at, and Molly can’t stand the helpless surge of attraction she feels for him—still there, as powerful as ever after all these years. But it’s more than just chemistry. It’s unbearable, heartbreaking nostalgia.
“I’m sorry, Jake.” She closes her eyes, feels the tears slip through. “I was a shit to you. I shouldn’t have left the way I did—”
“No, Molly.” He stops her. “I was the shit. I get that now. I had so many chances to be better to you, to quit prioritizing that stupid band—”
“But it wasn’t a stupid band, Jake. It was your dream.” Molly feels a sort of turbulence churning through her veins, fogging her head. She is spitting out the words she needs to be true, a truth she’s clung to for years now: Jake was always going to put the band before me.
“You were my dream, Moll.” His voice is clear and impossibly sad. “Why did you really leave? It was for Hunter, wasn’t it?”
A tear trickles down Molly’s cheek. She draws in a shaky breath, unable to answer the question. So close to him, her body is a furnace.
“It’s okay.” He squints, and there are tears in his eyes, too. “Hunter is a good man—I knew it the first time I met him, all those years ago. You guys have built a beautiful life together, you have a beautiful daughter. You deserve all of your happiness.”
Molly looks at Jake, and she sees the face she saw almost a decade earlier, in the back room of the Broken Mule; she feels the way his eyes latched onto hers while he sang that unforgettable rendition of “Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters” that lit up the stage. For a moment, she feels she’s been flung nine and a half years back in time then pitched ahead again, her life playing out on a different track, the one that could’ve been if she’d never left, if she’d tried a little harder to hope for the best instead of preparing for the worst.
“You know what I think about sometimes?” She begins the question before she can stop herself, the desire to be honest a blazing force behind her collarbone. “I think about that picture I got emailed—you know, the one of you and that girl in Florida. Kissing in that club or whatever.”
“Molly.” Jake’s face falls. “I know that was forever ago now, but I truly didn’t even know that girl, I swear—”
“I know. That’s not why I’m bringing it up. I’m not saying it’s your fault, and it doesn’t matter anymore, anyway.” Molly pauses, presses her lips together. “I just think about that sometimes because I wonder, if that hadn’t happened, if things might’ve been different. For us, I mean.” She lets her shoulders drop.