That Thing You Do (A Crystal Lake Novel Book 2) Page 7

  The only time Molly had given any kind of a crap about the way she looked was in senior year when she realized her feelings for Nathan Jacobs went way beyond the boundary of their friendship. And when he swooped in and asked her to prom? When he told off Brett for asking her because of a bet? It had made her whole year. She thought he’d done it because he had feelings for her, and for two whole weeks, she’d fantasized about the upcoming night. About being with him. Maybe even having sex for the first time. Didn’t everyone do that on prom night?

  Instead, the night of, he’d acted no different than any other time they’d hung out, and at the dance, he’d spent more time chatting up girls than hanging out with Molly. At the after-party, she’d walked in on him with some girl she’d never met before. The sight of his naked butt as he moved inside her was an image that had burned into her brain with the force of a rocket. She froze, probably whimpered or something equally embarrassing, because he knew he wasn’t alone anymore.

  Nathan had actually turned around and winked when he saw her. It was a hey, I’m getting some kind of thing. He told her to close the door and then he’d gotten back to business. That was when she knew she’d never be like those other girls. Interesting in ways that Nathan would be attracted to.

  She was Molly. A pal. The girl who spent hours in net as goalie while he practiced his wrist shot. Or behind the plate while he worked on his slider. The girl he felt comfortable winking at while he was inside another girl.

  As for the blossoming, the growing into her face and body as her Nana said, well, it didn’t seem to matter to Nathan, not even when other boys started noticing her. And it never would.

  “So, get over it already,” she muttered, stepping away from the mirror.

  The only seat available to Molly had her sandwiched between Link and Nate. Which was fine. Link was a welcome distraction. His stories were both hilarious and unbelievable. But the entire meal, from appies of deep-fried pickles, stuffed mushrooms, and calamari to entrees of burgers, fries, and homemade pizzas, she felt Nate’s quiet looks, almost like a physical touch. And by the time everyone was done and they were getting ready to board their transportation back to Crystal Lake, Molly felt like she wanted to crawl out of her skin. She thrummed with nervous energy, and her shoulders were tight with nerves.

  She walked around the corner to where it was quiet and leaned against the railing. The large deck wrapped around this particular restaurant and jutted out over the river. She looked down at the swirling water so long that her vision blurred, and blinked it away when Zach sidled up alongside her.

  Her brother’s cheeks were flushed, and there was a glassy tinge to his eyes—the guy had had his fair share of beer. He rested his elbows on the railing.

  “Great day, Moll.”

  “It was.”

  “Almost like back in the day. For a minute there, it felt like Stu wasn’t an old married man, and Brad didn’t mention his damn job once. And Nathan? It’s like he never left.”

  “Yeah,” she replied, smiling tightly. “I know what you mean. It was nice to have the old gang back together.”

  Zach wavered a bit, and she realized he’d had more beer than she first thought.

  “Steady, big guy.”

  “I’m good.”

  “If you say so.”

  “I’m getting married next week,” he said, looking at her with something close to surprise on his face. Shit. Was this his moment of regret? Cold feet? Was there going to be a problem?

  “You are,” she answered lightly, her mind turning over. What should she say to him? What kind of advice could Molly give her brother when everything was about to change and there was a part of her that didn’t want that change?

  “And Jess is great, Zach. I mean it. I wasn’t sold on her in the beginning, but that had more to do with me than anything else. I’ve gotten to know her, and you did good. I think you two are going to have a wonderful life.”

  He nodded. “She’s everything, ya know? She doesn’t even care when I leave my dirty socks on the floor or the toilet seat up.”

  He did something then that he hadn’t done in a long time. Without saying a word, he pulled her close and hugged her. Hard. It was a hug that said a million things he couldn’t, and Molly realized how much she missed her brother.

  Which was insane considering they worked together running the vet clinic. But work was work, and this right here? This was family. This was needing someone and having them need you right back.

  Someone told Molly once that you couldn’t pick your family. And while the notion was true, the idea of it, she wouldn’t change hers for the world. Not even Nana Malone. Of course, she could do without the mimosa-fueled advice Nana liked to dole out, but still, there was no doubt the old woman loved her family. She just had a brain fart from time to time and said the things she thought, but should keep inside.

  “I love ya, Moll,” Zach said, taking a step back. His looked at her in a way that made Molly uncomfortable.

  “Back atcha brother.” Molly tried to make the moment light, but Zach wasn’t having any of it.

  “What about you?” he asked.

  “What about me?”

  “You’re going to be thirty in a month, and, well, not that it’s old or anything, I mean, I’m going to be thirty in a month too.” He grimaced. “I’m not expressing myself very well.”

  “No. I’m going to assume your problem speaking is based on beer consumption.”

  “That would be a correct analysis of the situation.”

  His smile was lopsided. “But you know what I’m trying to say, right?”

  “I think so?” In drunk-brother hell, she pointed behind him. “We should head back to the bus. Don’t want to miss our ride.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Jess wouldn’t let that happen. She looks after me.” He frowned. “Who’s going to look after you, Molly?”

  “I can look after myself, thank you very much.”

  “I know that. You just, you don’t really date and—” At the look on her face, he held his hands up. “I’m your brother. Your twin. I know things.”

  Not only was Molly done with this conversation, they were headed into dangerous territory.

  “We need to go,” she said forcefully.

  But Zach wasn’t listening. He was just as stubborn as every other Malone on the planet—maybe more so.

  “I just want to see you happy, Moll. You’ve got the biggest heart and so much to give.” He sighed and ran his hands through his hair. “I know how you feel about Nathan.”

  “What?” She yanked her head up. “I don’t…” Her voice trailed off because, really, what could she say to that? She was a bad liar, and he’d know.

  “How are you going to move forward with someone else when you haven’t dealt with the past?”

  “I don’t need to move forward. Jesus, Zach what is this? Dump on Molly day?”

  “I’m just saying, you’ve been pining over him for years. Fucking years, Molly, and you’ve never done anything about it. That’s not who you are. What are you afraid of?”

  “Pining?” she all but spat. “I haven’t been pining. What does that even mean?”

  Her brother didn’t bite, and after a few seconds, she shrugged.

  “Rejection,” she finally said, admitting defeat. “Humiliation. What else is there?”

  Zach cracked a smile. “I don’t see that happening. Look, all I’m saying is that you’ll never give someone else a chance with his ghost sitting on your shoulder. And it won’t matter whether he’s here in Crystal Lake or back in New York.” He paused. “I saw you guys in Vegas. Saw you come out of his room.”

  Shocked, her mouth dropped open.

  “I don’t know what went down, and honestly, it’s none of my business. But there was a weird vibe that weekend, and there’s been a weird vibe this week. Molly, you need to put this shit to bed. Deal with it.”

  “Do you think…does he have any idea?” Molly asked Zach quietly, because she
would just about die if he did. It was one thing for her to throw herself at him after a drunken night in Vegas. That could be written off as a booze-fueled mistake. But had he, rightly so, read more into it?

  Her brother didn’t answer for a bit and then slowly shook his head. “Nah. Guys never know that kind of stuff unless someone hits them over the head with it.” He paused and then looked at her, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Maybe it’s time, Moll.”

  “Time for what?” she asked, afraid to hear the answer.

  “Maybe it’s time for you to hit him over the head.”

  Chapter Eight

  Saturday morning rolled around much too quickly for Nate. It felt like he’d barely closed his eyes when his dad poked him in the shoulder and told him to get his ass in gear if wanted to catch any fish.

  It was still dark out when he stumbled into the kitchen to find Beck already there, scrambling up eggs and sausages and bacon. He nodded his hello and aimed his body straight for the coffee. The men ate in silence, the way guys do at this time of the morning, a grunt here, a pass the maple syrup there, but by the time the three of them reached the lake, the sun was just starting to spill across the horizon, and Nate was not only awake but feeling that thing he always did when he was in a boat, on the water, with his dad and brother.

  He didn’t have a word for it. Contentment was close, but not quite there.

  Whatever it was, if he could bottle this feeling up, he’d keep it stockpiled for those days in the city when he barely had time to grab a coffee and ate a pack of Rolaids for dinner. Things moved slow out here on the lake, and as the three of them settled into the familiar quiet, he realized he’d missed this more than he thought possible.

  He’d been away from Crystal Lake too long.

  By early afternoon, they’d caught a good haul of small mouth bass, a few trout, and a lot of perch. The lake was busier by this time, and even in the relatively quiet space they’d claimed hours earlier, the fish had taken note and were no longer biting. They headed back to shore, stopped long enough to have a conversation with Cam Booker, who was out on a Jet Ski with his daughter, Tawny, and then packed up their fish into large coolers stuffed with ice.

  They headed back to town. The plan was to gut their haul and get the fish ready for the Malones, who were hosting their annual Labor Day weekend fish fry. Nate’s mother was waiting for them with tomato sandwiches, which they ate quickly, and got to work.

  It was close to four o’clock when they finished, and the three of them relaxed with a cold beer. Nate listened to his father and brother discuss Beck’s upcoming project, a complete kitchen renovation for Colleen McBride, Cate’s mom. Cate, the love of Beck’s life. The woman who’d been taken from them by a drunk driver all those years ago.

  It wasn’t something anyone talked about, really, and it got Nate to thinking. When their father got up to help their mother with something inside, he looked at his brother.

  “You still miss her,” he said quietly.

  Beck was silent for a few moments and then slowly nodded. “Yes. She was…” Beck tossed his empty beer into the bin beside them and shrugged. “Cate was one of a kind.”

  “Have you met anyone else?”

  “No.” The answer was crisp and came as soon as the question fell from Nathan’s lips.

  “Don’t you want to?”

  Beck looked at Nate. There was an absence of expression in Beck’s eyes that wasn’t right and Nate regretted asking the question. He should have kept his mouth shut.

  “What’s the point? Any sane woman would be crazy to get involved with me. I’d make her miserable as hell because no one will ever come close to Cate, not for me. No one.” His brother was quiet for a bit and then shrugged. “I was seeing a girl from town a few years back, and for a time, she made me forget. But, every once in a while, I’d say Cate wouldn’t do that, or Cate hated that reality TV shit, or Cate like her eggs runny so she could dip her toast in the yolk. She got sick and tired of being compared to Cate, and she stopped coming around.”

  “What about you?” Beck asked, turning the tables, something his older brother had always been good at. “Someone needs to give Mom some grandkids, and it sure as hell isn’t going to be me.”

  “What’s this about grandkids?” Their mother walked onto the deck and stared them both down. Nate got to his feet and kissed her on the cheek.

  “It’s nothing, Mom. Don’t get excited.”

  “If you boys have taught me anything, it’s not to get excited.” Her tone was light and teasing, but Nathan saw the concern when she looked at Beck. “If you’re finished bonding, the Malones are expecting us in less than an hour and”—she scrunched up her nose—“both of you stink to high heaven of fish. I’d suggest a shower.” She looked pointedly at Nathan. “And a shave. Maybe then there’ll be a chance for grandchildren in my future.”

  Nathan laughed. “I live in New York City, in case you’ve forgotten.”

  His mom stepped back. “Yeah, you do.” Then she winked before heading back inside the house. “But Molly doesn’t.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” But the patio door slid shut behind her, and there was no answer.

  Her parting shot earned Nate a slap on the shoulder from Beck. “What it means, brother, is that maybe you need to worry about your own situation before digging into mine.”

  “I don’t have a situation.”

  Beck got to his feet. “Don’t you?” He shook his head at Nate and made a sound of disgust. “I’m headed home to shower up. I’ll see you at the Malones.”

  Nathan was still thinking about his mother’s cryptic comment when he pulled up to the Malones. His parents had left about twenty minutes before him, deciding to walk over, and he pulled his truck alongside Stu’s and parked. He grabbed the cooler from the back of the truck and walked around the house to the backyard, where the party was in full swing. He spied Stan Malone over by the large fryer and hauled the cooler over to his side.

  The man was a veritable sous chef when it came to frying up perch. His beat-up old cap was the same one he’d worn since Nathan was a kid, covered in lures of all shapes and sizes, dancing around his head when he moved—or talking. It meant there were a lot of dancing lures, because Stan Malone talked with his hands.

  “There you are, Nate. Whatcha got for me?” Stan peeked inside the cooler and grinned. “Your haul is stellar this year.” He nodded behind him. “Grab yourself a beer. The boys are playing cornhole on the other side of the yard.”

  Nate had already scoped out the entire yard, and he’d spotted the gang the minute he arrived. Molly and the boys were at it. And so was Link.

  Huh.

  He’d sent the footballer a text message a few hours earlier, nothing to do with the fish fry and everything to do with the fact that the guy was lying through his teeth. No way did he have a groin pull, and that made Nate wonder why he’d give up most of the season playing for a team that paid him millions. It was a conversation they needed to have sooner rather than later, because if Nate was going to represent him, he needed one hundred percent transparency.

  He walked over and watched as Molly tossed a beanbag twenty feet and perfectly hit the hole in the center of the board. Her teammate, Link, gave her a thumbs-up, while the competition, Zach and Jess, groaned.

  “That’s it. We won!” Molly jumped up and down.

  “You’re late to the party, mate,” Link said with a grin.

  “I see that.” Nate kept his tone light, but he was more than a little annoyed. This right here was his and Molly’s thing. They were always partners. It was another example of how things had changed. Another example of something he didn’t particularly care for.

  Stu and his wife Amanda had just stepped up to play the winners when Link asked Nate if he’d take his place and partner up with Molly. He grimaced and pointed to his groin area.

  “I’ll take your spot,” Nate quipped as he grabbed their beanbags and headed to the board opposite fro
m Molly. “But I’m not buying the groin thing. We’re going to have that talk tomorrow.” Truthfully, at the moment, he didn’t give a rat’s ass about Link’s groin. He had a game to win.

  Cornhole was simple. There was a board with a hole in it. You got points for hitting the board and not sliding off, but you got big points for sinking your beanbag into the hole. You played in teams with each partner taking a turn, so you played with two boards, twenty feet apart, with your teammate opposite.

  What it meant was that Amanda stood beside Nate at one end, and they tossed their beanbags to the board where their respective teammate stood. It also meant that Nate could look at Molly all day long and no one would know that he was low-key checking her out in a way that was becoming the norm for him.

  And it wasn’t a guy checking out his pal and thinking to himself, She looks good. It was a man checking out a woman and realizing he was attracted to her. When she bent over to pick up the beanbags at her feet, he couldn’t help himself, even though he was treading into perv territory. He cocked his head to the side and took a good long look. The shape of her butt and those long, tanned legs was almost too much. He caught Link looking too and then missed the hole by at least six inches when he tossed his bag, earning him a glower from Molly as she picked it up.

  “Concentrate, Jacobs,” she said, shaking her head. When it was her turn, she sank all four of her beanbags, and just like that, the game was over.

  Amanda threw her hands into the air and said she was done with games, and since the fish was just about ready to serve, they packed it in for the time being.

  “Good job,” Nate said as Molly approached. She tossed all the bags aside and smiled.

  “Thank God I was on my game. What happened to you?”

  He didn’t exactly have an answer he was willing to share. Sorry I sucked, but your legs and butt distracted me?