He inhaled a deep breath. “Hopefully we’ll have all the time in the world to do that. And hopefully Hunter can work miracles, because from where I sit, things look pretty bleak.”
Frank hadn’t said it out loud before now, but he lay awake at night panicked that Hunter wouldn’t be able to prove his innocence and he’d spend the rest of his life locked up in a tiny cell.
He broke into a sweat just thinking about it.
“It’ll be okay,” Sonya said, leaning her head against his. “You aren’t going to pay for a crime you didn’t commit.”
When Sonya said the words, he almost believed it.
***
MOLLY CURLED UP in a ball on her bed in her father’s house. It wasn’t her house but she thought it had come to be her home. If she defined home as a place inside someone’s heart. She’d believed her father’s acceptance had taken care of her old wounds, but leave it to her mother to show up now and point out exactly how wrong Molly was. Francie’s presence reminded Molly of all she’d missed out on and failed to accomplish in her life. Winning her mother’s elusive affection and approval had been a driving goal. And a glaring failure.
And really, wasn’t that what Hunter had tried to tell her the other day? That she still had unresolved issues when it came to love and acceptance? She’d fought his arguments, but apparently he had a point.
A knock sounded on her door and Molly scrambled upright. She pulled a tissue from the box on the nightstand, blew her nose and wiped her eyes.
“Come in,” she called.
Hunter slipped inside, leaving the door ajar behind him. “Don’t want to give Jessie the wrong idea. If she has to leave her door open, so should we.” His gaze zeroed in on Molly. “Are you okay?” he asked, warm concern filling his voice.
She nodded.
“But you’ve been crying.” He settled himself beside her on the bed and reached out to brush a tear that had escaped and dripped slowly down her face.
She shrugged. “I’m female. And women cry sometimes.”
He let out a laugh. “What a crock of bull. And so not like my Molly.”
“Don’t you mean the Molly you know?” she asked bitterly.
He shook his head. “That was your mother’s mistake, not mine. I don’t pretend to know everything about you, but I do know you don’t believe in stereotypes about weak women.”
“Okay, I’ve been crying because I was feeling sorry for myself. How unlike me is that?”
He shook his head. “Sweetheart, everybody has poor-me moments and having met your mother, I’m surprised you haven’t had more of them.”
Molly glanced up. “You talked to her?”
“I drove her to her hotel.” He paused to let his words sink in. “On my bike.”
She let out a laugh. “I wish I’d seen that.”
“She bitched and moaned about ruining her cream-colored suit, wrinkling the linen fabric, nonexistent grease stains and the wind destroying her expensive blowout. But I have to say, she hated helmet head even more.”
Molly began to laugh harder, and soon she was hiccuping, chuckling and crying all at the same time. Hunter held her while she had her meltdown. Apparently she hadn’t been finished after all.
When it was over, she glanced up, met Hunter’s gaze and smiled. “Thank you. I actually feel better.”
“I’m glad.”
“Since she’s gone, don’t you think we should update my father on our Atlantic City trip?” Molly asked.
“I already did. He understands that it’s going to be tough to exonerate him by casting blame on someone else.”
Molly swallowed hard, the lump in her throat returning. “Hard but not impossible, right?”
He inclined his head. “I need you to hear this and understand. Your father’s case is not a slam dunk by any means.”
A noise came from the hall and he turned toward the sound.
“It’s Jessie,” Molly said. “Probably with Seth.”
Hunter nodded.
“So what were you saying about the case?”
He turned from the bedroom door. “I said that the case isn’t a slam dunk but I won’t give up. I’m going to do all I can for him. I just don’t want to give you false hope.” A muscle worked in his jaw, a sure sign he wasn’t confident he could free her father, Molly thought.
But she couldn’t focus on the negative. That wouldn’t help anyone. “I trust you, Hunter. I admit I’m concerned, but you’ll work your magic. I’m sure of it.” She plucked at imaginary threads on the bedding.
“One more thing.” He met her gaze.
“What’s that?”
“Your mother’s staying at the Hilton and she’d like to spend time with you while she’s here.”
“You mean she wants me to fawn over her and tell her not to worry, she’ll find another rich sucker to foot her bills. I can’t do it anymore.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I’ve done it my whole life and now I see more clearly what’s important in life. Her quest for the wealthy husband isn’t it.”
“She’s your mother,” Hunter felt compelled to remind her.
“Biology,” Molly said.
“Fact,” Hunter countered. “And here’s another fact. You may not like her, but you love her. And she’s going to keep turning up in your life whenever it’s convenient for her, not you. You can’t write her off no matter how much you think you want to. It’ll leave a gaping hole in that big old heart of yours. You won’t be as happy as you think,” he added somberly.
“Is that what you feel? A big gaping hole?”
Oh shit, he thought, panic overwhelming him at the thought of talking about his past. Still, he supposed it wasn’t fair to offer advice on what she should do about her mother while refusing to discuss his own parents.
“Yeah. That’s what it feels like,” he admitted. “A big gaping hole in my chest that can never and will never be filled. I have Ty and Lacey and Ty’s mom, Flo, and a place to go for the holidays now, unlike when I was a kid. But I don’t have resolution with my parents and it’s not something I’d wish on anyone. Especially you.” Reaching out, he snagged a piece of her hair and twirled it around his fingers. “Talk to her,” Hunter urged.
Molly cocked her head to one side. “Isn’t that what I just did? And it was like talking to a wall. She doesn’t take in what I say, she only thinks about what she wants and how to get it.”