All That Really Matters, Nicole Deese [best detective novels of all time .TXT] 📗

It took me a minute to sort out what she was referring to. So many conversations had taken place since the argument with Sasha in the living room last night. “Okay, but you realize that doesn’t make what happened to you okay, right?”

She nodded. “Yes, I know that. But still . . . I’m not innocent. I should have told you. I should have trusted you with what was really going on here, with how bad it had become between the three of us.”

If she only knew just how much I could relate! “I guess we’re all afraid to tell the truth at times. Even when it’s about what’s really going on inside us.”

She was quiet for a beat before she said, “Can I tell you something I haven’t told anybody yet?”

I braced myself. “Of course.”

“My brother’s getting adopted. By the Coles. They told me three days ago, and I’ve been trying to sort through my feelings.”

The bittersweet pang in my heart was as much for Wren as it was for little Nate. “Oh, Wren . . . I can only imagine how many feelings you must be wading through.”

“Yes, but the Coles have been so kind to me. They even asked for my blessing to adopt Nate, and they want me to be a part of their lives.”

I swallowed down the emotion climbing my throat. “And how do you feel about that?”

She took a second to think, and then finally ran a hand through her cropped hair. “It’s not what I wanted at first, but I think it’s the right thing for Nate. They love him, and he really loves them, too. But it’s still hard.”

“Of course it is. It’s complicated, and you’re allowed to process your feelings as you feel them.” I squeezed her hand and took an extra second to compose my thoughts. “Now, can I tell you something?”

She nodded.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t ask more questions about what was happening here at the house. And I’m sorry I didn’t protect you last night like I wish I could have.” I reached up and touched a tuft of hair near her earlobe.

“It’s not your fault, Molly. My hair will grow back. And the cut on my face will heal.” She said this as if regurgitating words she wanted to believe, but couldn’t quite bank her life on yet.

Because redefining ourselves wasn’t ever simple or easy. Nor was allowing our identity within to take precedence over the identity we saw each day in our reflection.

“You’re right. It will. But that doesn’t mean you won’t struggle with the loss of it. Losing a part of who you’ve been will take time to work through. And that doesn’t make you selfish or shallow or wrong. It makes you human. It makes you real.”

Something tugged inside my spirit, beating hard against my ribcage. “I’m working some things out, too.”

Curiosity crimped her brow. “You are?”

“Yes, and I think I’ll continue working them out for a while. Maybe we can do it together?”

She smiled. “So you’re going to stick around for a while?”

“Absolutely I am. I need this place, and I need you and the other girls. I hope you know that. You’ve all taught me so much over these last couple months.” I chuckled softly. “Probably far more than anything I could ever teach you.”

Wren blinked up at me. “My mom . . . she wasn’t like you. She wasn’t strong or brave or confident.” Again, she played with the blankets on her lap. “I love her, and I miss her every day, but there were a lot of things she couldn’t teach me and my brother because she simply didn’t know how. But I want to be stronger. For Nate, but also for me. I know I’m book smart, but what good is that if I never take a risk? If I never speak up about the things that really matter? The way you do all the time.”

Oh, how wrong she was. Because I wasn’t actually brave or confident at all. And the only risks I’d taken had been calculated endeavors for my gain. I’d lived in a fantasy world of six-to-eight-minute video segments, absent of authenticity and reality even though I’d often claimed those nouns as subtitles to my brand. But Makeup Matters with Molly certainly hadn’t trended on the depth of my vulnerability.

“I haven’t always taken chances where they mattered, Wren. But I’m ready to change that.”

She looked at me funny, as if she’d missed the connection I’d made in my head but hadn’t voiced aloud. I slipped the hood still hiding my hair off my head. Wren gasped and covered her mouth, her eyes bright and unblinking. “Molly . . . what . . . did you do?”

“Let’s learn how to be brave together, shall we?”

32

Molly

The amber light from Silas’s office spilled into the quiet hallway like a beacon showing me the way. His office was a sanctuary for all those seeking answers to unspoken questions. Which fit my needs tonight like a pair of high-quality Italian heels.

Since saying good night to Wren, my head had become a jumble of half-chewed thoughts. And I was desperate to process them in a space that felt even safer than home.

Before I crossed into his open study, I stopped short, pausing in the doorway to observe him without notice. Though I’d seen Silas reading in the corner chair of his office before, I’d never observed him quite like this, with his head bent and resting on his hand, as if the only thing that mattered was the piece of paper he held. My gaze drifted from his hand to the open, overstuffed shoebox beside him. Were those . . . letters?

I debated my next course of action, wondering if I should allow him privacy, but the floorboard creaked beneath the shift in my weight and Silas looked up at me. Though he didn’t say a word, his eyes shimmered with a story so heartbreaking I couldn’t help but go to him.

“What is it, Silas?