"No, I don't," I said. I ran my hands into my hair, a helpless gesture when what I wanted to do was tug her into my arms and feel my soul settle again. "Help me understand why it's so hard to see you, why we can't talk like normal."
"What's our normal?" she asked quietly, shaking her head as she did. "We hated each other until we didn't. We slept together, then stopped talking. And here we are."
I raised an eyebrow. "That's a massive simplification of what happened between us."
"I know it is."
"Nor was it my idea to stop talking," I reminded her gently.
That made her eyes flash dangerously. "Can you blame me for backing away? Would it have been easier to try to pretend that weekend didn't happen? Film, work, be around each other every single day and just ... pretend." Her voice sounded thick. "That sounded like hell to me."
"No, it wouldn't have been easier. I hate pretending. I don't ... I don't think I could have." I took a step closer. "But this hasn't been easy either, has it?"
She dropped her head into her hands and exhaled shakily. I got the distinct impression that the only thing allowing her to keep hold on her emotions was if she physically blocked out my presence like that. I took a step back.
"What do you want me to say, Noah?" she asked, voice muffled behind her hands. "I had a shitty day, and I'm tired, and I don't know what you want me to say right now."
"I want you to be honest with me." Curling my hands around her wrists, I gently pulled her hands away from her face. "I know you said that we never had a normal ... but ... I don't know what to make of that. You were my friend, Molly. I talked to you more than I talked to anyone. I miss you," I told her fiercely. "It was easy to ignore how much when you weren't around, but I do. And I hate how weird things are right now. Don't you?"
I couldn't believe what had just tumbled out of my mouth.
Unpracticed.
Unrehearsed.
Hell, I'd barely registered how I felt, but standing in front of her, it was like someone took a wood-chipper to whatever I'd been using to block out everything I'd suppressed for the past eight weeks.
It was impossible to believe that only a day earlier, I was able to stand back and monitor just how little I felt about my life. Like someone who'd lost the ability to feel pain. You could set your hand on a stove and not register the sensation of blistering skin. And now, watching her expressive face work through what I'd blurted out, I felt everything.
Every pinch of her lips and every shift of her eyes. When they filled with bright tears, I wanted to do anything, anything humanly possible to make it stop. Just the threat of tears on her part, and I felt them like a blowtorch to my gut. But if withstanding the heat, if pressing into it further was what she needed from me, I'd step closer and hold the flames against me for as long as she needed.
Oh, hell.
Rick was right, that asshole.
I'd ... I'd fallen in love with her, and it happened without me realizing it.
"Noah," she started, completely oblivious that my heart had just splattered to the ground at her feet. "Of course I do. But …" She trailed off, eyes snapping beyond my shoulder. "Shit. I need to go. I cannot be on camera right now. Not after my day today."
I glanced back and saw Marty sprinting toward us like he was about to catch me mounting Molly on the hood of her car. I pinned him with a look and held up my hand, but he just kept barreling toward us. Thank goodness he was so out of shape. He stopped about forty yards away and braced a hand on his knee to breathe for a second.
"Molly," I begged. "Don't go."
"Please don't make me do this right now. Not on camera." Her eyes were huge and pleading. I nodded and stepped back.
I knew at that instant that I'd do anything she asked of me. Anything, even if it meant letting her drive away.
"Have a good rest of the season, Noah," she said, just before she slammed her door shut.
"What?" I went to grab the door handle and ask her why the hell that sounded like a goodbye, but I stepped back when I heard Marty's pounding footsteps and obnoxiously loud breathing behind me. "You rotten asshole," I told him.
"You let her leave?"
I whirled. "Yeah. She didn't want to be on camera, you dick. You think I'd force her?"
Marty sighed, watching Molly's car leave the parking lot once the security guard lifted the gate. "No."
I gave him a dry look. "Your timing leaves a lot to be desired."
"Molly got fired," he blurted out.
"What?" I yelled.
"That's why I was running out here. I overheard her brother say something about it when I was packing up my gear after practice. You looked like shit today, by the way."
"Why did she get fired?"
"Why do you think?" He shook his head. "She lied to her boss about what happened in South Dakota. I guess Beatrice had added a no-fraternization stipulation in Molly’s contract for this project that covered the cast and crew." He pointed at his chest. "And she ain't sleeping with the crew."
I ran my hands over my face. "Shit, shit, shit. She said she’d had a rough day." My hands curled into fists. "Shit," I yelled. "I really want to punch something."
Marty gave me a warning look. "Don't even think about it."
With fumbling hands, I pulled out my cell phone and tried to call her. It went right to voicemail.
"Her phone is off," I muttered.
"Probably a work cell. I bet she had to leave it."
"Do you know how pissed I am at you and Rick?"
"Us?"
"Yeah." I glared at him. "My life was perfectly fine before you two showed up. And now I have an old man informing me that I fell in love without knowing it, and another old man who can't run for shit interrupting the first chance I've had to talk to her. I hate you guys."
Marty grinned. "We love you too."
"I can't believe she got fired." My chest pinched tight. And then tighter again. Love was awful. Even imagining what she must be feeling made me want to hurl an unsuspecting vehicle across the parking lot.
I knew how she felt because I went through it. I loved playing at Miami. One stupid choice on one stupid night, and a career I'd been building for years was upended.
Upended, but not ruined.
I liked Washington.
The team was strong.
The coaching was top-notch, even if one of those coaches was probably currently plotting my demise knowing that I slept with his sister.
The culture was accepting and warm. Stable. That was harder to find than you'd expect.
But there was no way I could have known that when I was shipped here just before the season started. And no way for Molly to know right now, caught in the muck and mire of feeling dumped by a place that was so important to her.
"She's a smart girl," Marty said, interrupting my thoughts. "This is a tough knock, but I'd put my money on her any day." He nudged my shoulder. "I mean, if she can go head to head with you without backing down ..."
I smiled. She had, too. Thinking about all those moments now, I was such a fool that I hadn't seen how quickly she got under my skin. But she was there now, and I didn't want her gone.
"I need your help, Marty," I said, still staring at the road where her car had disappeared.
"Anything."
"Before you promise that, it may require you to be chained to that computer for a day or two."
He eyed me. "What do you need?"
I slung my arm around his shoulder, and we walked back toward the building "The way I see it, you and Rick owe me, right? For ambushing me in front of Beatrice. But I guess I owe you too, for bringing it up in the first place. I can be a little ..."
"Blind?" he helpfully supplied. "Clueless?"
"Hyper focused," I amended, "when I'm in football mode. So that little trailer he sent me? I'm going to need more from you."
"I was afraid you'd say that." He sighed. "If she doesn't have a phone, how are you going to get in touch with her?"
I glanced back at the Wolves facility. "I know a guy."
"Just ... let me film it when you ask him, okay?"
I laughed. “Shall we get it over with now?”
Marty's face blanched as he looked at the building with me. “Now?”
“Why do you look so nervous?”
His eyes never wavered. “Because I’m worried I’m about to catch your death on film. And Rick will never forgive me.”