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Authors: Karen Kingsbury
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you.”
“What?” Her response was more of a quiet gasp.
“You’ve got your life back home.” He smiled at her as if the words weren’t killing him. “I have mine.”
She shook her head. “Ryan, that’s crazy.” She raised her voice and then caught herself. “You told me to give you time. That you would show me why I shouldn’t leave.”
“I was wrong.” He took a step back. With everything in him he forced himself not to think about how she had felt in his arms the night before. “We made a mistake, Molly. We’re friends. Let’s not let last night change that.”
She looked like she might argue with him, but then she must’ve remembered Preston. A resignation came over her, and when she spoke again, he could see in her eyes walls around her heart that hadn’t been there before. “You’re right.” Her smile looked forced. “I’m sorry, too.” She shrugged. “Just one of those things, I guess.”
Their study time went late, as usual. But nothing between them was ever the same again. Every time he saw her after that, he could only think of her conversation with Preston and the fact that when the semester ended, she was headed back. He felt like a blindfool. He must’ve been crazy to think he could win her heart or that she would walk away from her family for him. No matter what he wanted to believe, she was going home.
As the final days of the semester flew by, he and Molly found a way back to their friendship. He never told her about her father’s phone call, never asked why she would promise her love to Preston that afternoon and then hours later lead Ryan to believe they were sharing the most wonderful night together. And he never asked her about their kiss, even though the questions plagued him every day. Hadn’t they both felt the connection? Felt it to the core of their beings? How could she be so heartless, so conflicted? Every time he asked himself, the answers were the same. Which was why he never brought the matter up to Molly, even when he was tempted to ask. Clearly, she wasn’t conflicted at all. She had pulled away from him after that night for one reason.
She was in love with Preston.
The memories lifted and Ryan stepped away from the window, from the snow falling outside. He needed to make calls, needed to check on the studio position. He wasn’t ready to give up his dream. Not yet. Not theway Molly had given up when she left Belmont early that summer. Ryan hesitated and touched the copy of Jane Eyre as he passed by. He grabbed the keys to his truck and a heavy coat from the closet. Along the way, a thought occurred to him.
Of course he never said anything to Molly about her dad’s phone call—not only because of Molly’s taped conversation. But because she’d given up on the two of them so easily.
Three weeks later, when she announced she was headed back to San Francisco, there was no surprise, nothing he could say, no real argument or debate. They finished the semester and took their finals, and she bought them matching copies of Jane Eyre . Then she was gone. Leaving him with the one thought he couldn’t get out of his mind. Her father might’ve been right about Molly’s feelings for Preston. But if Molly truly believed Ryan wasn’t good enough, the sad truth was this: He had never known Molly Allen at all.
A s on most Saturdays, Molly woke up just after six and climbed into her Nike running sweats, pale pinkand tight enough to keep out the cold on chilly November mornings like this. She had a routine that took her down Twenty-third to Everett, up the hill to the right, and through several smaller residential streets back to her apartment. The route was four miles, long enough to stir her heart and clear her head.
At least on most Saturdays.
Today, as she set out, last night’s video played in her soul, the unanswered questions hanging from the rafters of long ago. There had never been anyone like Ryan, and Molly fully expected there never would be. How
“What?” Her response was more of a quiet gasp.
“You’ve got your life back home.” He smiled at her as if the words weren’t killing him. “I have mine.”
She shook her head. “Ryan, that’s crazy.” She raised her voice and then caught herself. “You told me to give you time. That you would show me why I shouldn’t leave.”
“I was wrong.” He took a step back. With everything in him he forced himself not to think about how she had felt in his arms the night before. “We made a mistake, Molly. We’re friends. Let’s not let last night change that.”
She looked like she might argue with him, but then she must’ve remembered Preston. A resignation came over her, and when she spoke again, he could see in her eyes walls around her heart that hadn’t been there before. “You’re right.” Her smile looked forced. “I’m sorry, too.” She shrugged. “Just one of those things, I guess.”
Their study time went late, as usual. But nothing between them was ever the same again. Every time he saw her after that, he could only think of her conversation with Preston and the fact that when the semester ended, she was headed back. He felt like a blindfool. He must’ve been crazy to think he could win her heart or that she would walk away from her family for him. No matter what he wanted to believe, she was going home.
As the final days of the semester flew by, he and Molly found a way back to their friendship. He never told her about her father’s phone call, never asked why she would promise her love to Preston that afternoon and then hours later lead Ryan to believe they were sharing the most wonderful night together. And he never asked her about their kiss, even though the questions plagued him every day. Hadn’t they both felt the connection? Felt it to the core of their beings? How could she be so heartless, so conflicted? Every time he asked himself, the answers were the same. Which was why he never brought the matter up to Molly, even when he was tempted to ask. Clearly, she wasn’t conflicted at all. She had pulled away from him after that night for one reason.
She was in love with Preston.
The memories lifted and Ryan stepped away from the window, from the snow falling outside. He needed to make calls, needed to check on the studio position. He wasn’t ready to give up his dream. Not yet. Not theway Molly had given up when she left Belmont early that summer. Ryan hesitated and touched the copy of Jane Eyre as he passed by. He grabbed the keys to his truck and a heavy coat from the closet. Along the way, a thought occurred to him.
Of course he never said anything to Molly about her dad’s phone call—not only because of Molly’s taped conversation. But because she’d given up on the two of them so easily.
Three weeks later, when she announced she was headed back to San Francisco, there was no surprise, nothing he could say, no real argument or debate. They finished the semester and took their finals, and she bought them matching copies of Jane Eyre . Then she was gone. Leaving him with the one thought he couldn’t get out of his mind. Her father might’ve been right about Molly’s feelings for Preston. But if Molly truly believed Ryan wasn’t good enough, the sad truth was this: He had never known Molly Allen at all.
A s on most Saturdays, Molly woke up just after six and climbed into her Nike running sweats, pale pinkand tight enough to keep out the cold on chilly November mornings like this. She had a routine that took her down Twenty-third to Everett, up the hill to the right, and through several smaller residential streets back to her apartment. The route was four miles, long enough to stir her heart and clear her head.
At least on most Saturdays.
Today, as she set out, last night’s video played in her soul, the unanswered questions hanging from the rafters of long ago. There had never been anyone like Ryan, and Molly fully expected there never would be. How
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