Molly's Mr. Wrong

“Molly? Hey.” She froze at the rich deep tones of her ex’s voice. “Molly?” he repeated.

“Yes.”

“How’re you doing in Big Sky Country?”

“I’m doing well, thank you.” If she didn’t make small talk, he’d get to his point and they could end this conversation all the sooner.

“I’m doing pretty good down here in Arizona, too, thanks for asking.”

She drew in a breath, but kept her mouth shut. “The season is winding down, but it’s been a good one.”

“What do you need, Blake?”

“I need the sale of the house to hurry along so I have some money to live on during the winter.” Twice the small house they’d shared had been in escrow and twice it had fallen through as the market fluctuated.

“And I’m supposed to do that how?”

“Would you let me borrow some money against the sale?”

“Are you kidding?” She used to be nicer about this. So much nicer.

“I need it.” His voice went flat.

“No.” Blake was still having trouble getting it through his head that she wasn’t in the make-Blake’s-life-easier club anymore. When he hit a wall, the first person he’d turn to, if he didn’t have a current girlfriend, was her. For old time’s sake. Because he’d made mistakes. Because he’d always loved her best.

Because he was a narcissist and she’d been stupid.

“Molly, I don’t have the resources to get through the winter.”

“Get a job.” She ended the call, then scrolled through her menus and blocked his number. There. Problem solved.

She should have done that the second time he’d called for a date. But no. She’d been blinded by his beauty, in awe of the fact that the gorgeous guy who sat next to her in English 405—an athlete, for Pete’s sake—wanted to go out with her. And he’d continued to go out with her. At first she thought he’d wanted help with his studies, but he did all right in his classes without her. That was when she’d given herself a good hard look in the mirror and realized that she really wasn’t that different from other women her age—she only perceived herself as different. As lacking in areas that other woman took for granted. Blake had even seemed charmed by her awkwardness and because of that, it had started to fade.

Her gift from Blake—a jump start to her self-confidence.

If she owed him for anything it was that, but not enough to lend him money. Especially when his behavior at the end of their short marriage had knocked her newfound self-confidence sideways.

She was still getting over a few of the knocks.

Molly pushed the thought aside. She’d moved back to the Eagle Valley because she’d been happy here. There’d been the usual high school traumas—cough, homecoming with Finn, cough—but in general she’d been a happily invisible nerd, with happily invisible nerdy friends. In Eagle Valley she’d found a sense of peace she’d never gotten anywhere else.

And it was a thousand miles away from Blake.

Yet still he called her to make things better.

She walked down the hall to her bedroom, glancing into Georgina’s room as she went by. One wall was stacked high with clear plastic bins that had become the temporary wardrobe solution. One bin sat on the floor next to her bed, which was scattered with the clothes she’d tried on before deciding on the perfect thing to wear for a Friday night out. Being as outgoing as Molly had been shy at the same age, she already had a circle of friends she’d met the first week of classes and had connected with two people she’d known when she’d attended third grade at Eagle Valley Elementary. Molly was in awe. To be born with confidence...what a gift.

But maybe if one had to fight to develop confidence, one appreciated it more.

And maybe they always had that tiny niggling fear that if they didn’t hold on to it with an iron grasp, it might just slip away.

* * *

FINN FOUND WALKING into English class the second time a lot easier than it had been the first. He held the door open for Debra and her friend Sharla, smiled back at them when they thanked him, and took the same seat he’d sat in the week before. Molly was busy talking to a student, but she glanced over at him as he sat and he nodded at her. Last week had been stressful. This week he was ready to light this candle.

Debra sat up a little straighter when Molly announced she was going to hand back last week’s papers.

“If your grade isn’t what you expected, don’t worry. The purpose of this class is to identify trouble areas and learn what to do about them. If you got over a 90 percent, you really don’t belong here.”

Debra leaned forward as Molly set her paper facedown on her desk, then eagerly flipped it over. Finn shot a quick look at the grade—85 percent. Debra beamed and started reading comments.

A 70 percent. That was all he wanted. Average. Nothing wrong with average.

Molly glided by his desk, set the paper facedown. Finn flipped it over. Then he almost flipped it back.

His gaze shot up to Molly, who happened to shift her gaze toward him just then. She gave him an unreadable look and walked toward the front of the class.

“As you can see we have some work ahead of us, but again, let me emphasize that this is a starting point.”

Finn’s starting point was almost at ground zero.

Okay, he had some problems putting words down, but...this grade smacked more of payback than it did of assessment.

“What did you get?” Debra whispered. Finn automatically shifted his paper, planning to say something along the lines of “not as good as I’d hoped,” but she caught a glimpse of the percentage before he’d managed to hide it. “Oh.”

Yes. Oh. He smiled gamely at the older woman. “It’s been a while since I’ve written anything.”

“That’s what this course is about. Getting comfortable with writing again.” She gave him an encouraging nod, then fixed her attention back on Molly, who explained that they’d start with sentence structure.

The sentence structure made sense as Finn listened. And he knew he was doing exactly what she was talking about, although according to Molly’s comments, he wasn’t. The remainder of the class was spent on simple exercises. Molly circled the room while Finn stared at his paper, a slow burn building into a flame. He didn’t get much done by the time class had ended, and Molly had avoided coming his way. He left the class with everyone else, but lingered in the hall until he was certain the last person, who seemed bent on telling her life story to Molly, had finally left. The hall, and probably the entire building, was empty when he walked back into the room. Molly did not look surprised to see him.

“Finn.” She held her folders to her chest as if they were a shield. “I assume you want to talk about your grade?”

“You assume correctly. What gives?” He set the paper down on the table. “If this had any more red, the white wouldn’t show.” He leveled a long, hard look at her. “Is this because of what happened back when we were kids?” Like an eon ago.

“This is because it’s that bad.”

He stilled for a moment. “That’s hard to believe because this is basic English, pretty much the equivalent of high school English, and I got straight Cs in high school English. I couldn’t have forgotten that much.”

“And I don’t think your grades in high school reflected your abilities.”

His gaze snapped up to hers. “What the hell does that mean?”

Molly let out a sigh. “You were an athlete...? A good one...?”

“You’re saying my grades were fixed?”

“I admit I have no way of knowing that, but this paper—” she pointed at the bloodbath sitting on the empty desk next to her “—is not C work in high school. Or here at EVCC.”