Where’s Molly

Present
2022

The sudden knock on the door causes me to jump out of my skin, nearly sending the wine in my glass splashing in my face and on the fantasy novel from Adeline Reilly that I’d been reading.

Heart thundering, I stare at my front door with widened eyes, my brain running over possible scenarios on who the fuck could be at my door.

Of course, it jumps to the worst conclusions first.

What if it’s a cop telling me that they’ve somehow pinned my father’s murder on me and I’m under arrest. Or that they have evidence of me kidnapping Layla. Shit, maybe it’s a friend of Francesca’s, and they’ve come to collect what they feel they’re owed.

The second knock has me snapping out of my spiraling thoughts. I hurriedly set my wine down on the coffee table, before scrambling to my room to grab my Glock. I’ve never had to use it, but I don’t mind breaking it in.

Whoever it is, I’ll feed them to my pigs and no one will ever kn—

A third knock.

Quietly, I fish out my phone from my back pocket and click on the feed for my security cameras, finding Cage on the other side of my door.

I release a weighted breath and swing open the door, glaring at him with annoyance.

He raises a brow.

“Can’t say I’ve ever gotten that look before when showing up at a lady’s door. I must be losing my charm.” Then, he clocks the gun in my hand, and the other brow joins the first. “That’s also new. You gonna use that on me, little ghost? I don’t mind joining you in the afterlife.”

“You scared me half to death,” I snap. “What are you doing here?”

It’s been a week since his first drop-off, and I wasn’t prepared to see him again until the next delivery, which hasn’t been scheduled yet.

He raises his hand, and for the first time, I notice he’s holding a bouquet of tiger lilies, already in a beautiful crystal vase.

“I come bearing gifts.” He lifts his other hand and holds up a DVD. “And a movie.”

I sputter, unprepared for both items. He takes advantage and slides past me, forgoing an invitation.

“What the fuck,” I mutter beneath my breath, dumbfounded as he kicks off his shoes at the entrance, then saunters into my living room and sets the tiger lilies on the center of the coffee table.

Though, he does pause to take a peek around.

My house is warm and cozy and newly updated. It has a rustic barn feel, with brown wooden beams across the ceiling, distressed wooden floors and furniture, and deep green cabinetry that complements my sage green couch and cream rugs. It isn’t a large home, but it’s perfect for me.

“You’re having wine?” Cage asks, noticing the open bottle and my glass on the table. “My mom loves that shit—she’d love you. Anyway, I brought The Silence of the Lambs. Have you seen it?”

“Uh, no.”

He shoots me a bewildered look over his shoulder, which quickly morphs into a devilish grin.

“I think you’ll like it. It’s a fucking cult classic. I figured you’d find some enjoyment out of it, considering it’s about eating people.”

I frown. “You think just because I feed my pigs humans, I’m into cannibalism?”

He shrugs, popping the disc into my DVD player to get the film ready. “I’m into whatever you’re into. I get the feeling these types of movies are right up your alley. Come sit. I’ll make popcorn.”

I don’t sit.

In fact, I stare at him as he walks over to my kitchen and starts rifling through the cabinets like he owns the place, finding a large bowl and my popcorn.

“What if I didn’t have popcorn?” I question, crossing my arms.

Again, he peers at me from over his shoulder. His beauty is wicked, and I hate the way it makes my heart flutter.

“Everyone has popcorn, Molly.” He says that like it’s obvious.

And I suppose it is, considering it’s been a staple in my household for the last several years.

He moves through the kitchen with confidence. Like he’s been here all along and is as familiar with my home as he is with my body.

As much as my brain protests, my heart is softening.

I only knew him for a night, but I’ve missed him. More than I ever realized.

Sighing, I relent and trudge over to the couch. Instantly, I grab the wineglass, chugging the rest of it and hoping it calms the butterflies flapping around in my stomach.

“Don’t worry, baby, I’ll get more wine, too,” he drawls, amusement in his tone.

I roll my eyes, but secretly, I like that he’s here. Even though I wasn’t prepared for an impromptu movie night, the idea of it actually sounds really fucking nice.

I don’t think I’ve ever had one before. At least not one where I wasn’t alone.

In no time, the delicious aroma of buttery popcorn fills the house, and he’s sitting next to me on the couch with the snack, an uncracked bottle of wine, and an extra glass for himself.

I pop a piece of popcorn in my mouth and cast a thin-eyed look his way. “You could’ve called, ya know.”

“I don’t have your number, though.”

I raise a brow. “Are you saying you’re not a resourceful man?”

He shoots me a cocky grin. “I didn’t want to give you the chance to say no.”

He grabs the remote and presses play before I can formulate a proper response. We both know he’s right, and in a weird way, I’m glad he took the option out of my hands.

I would’ve agonized over the proposal for far too long, talked myself out of doing it, and then regretted it later.

As the disturbing movie plays, we power through the popcorn like we’re starving and drink the entire bottle of wine. And like a true gentleman, he lets me eat all the half-popped kernels.

Then, he grabs my legs and, resting them over his lap, massages my feet, all the while quoting lines from the film. The act is so thoughtless, so genuine, that tears rush to my eyes.

Never have I had anyone bring me flowers, set up a movie, and rub my feet. It’s not something I even imagined for myself.

“Why did you come?” I ask softly after about an hour into the movie. My head is swimming a little, but I gaze at him with perfect clarity.

He glances at me. “I wanted to spend time with you. I missed you.”

It’s a simple answer, yet my heart is climbing into my throat.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

He leans down and places a soft kiss on the top of my foot, then turns his focus back to the movie.

I haven’t been to Cage’s store, Black Portal, since that day nine years ago, desperate for an escape and hoping to God I’d find one in Cage.

He provided it for me, but it wasn’t the escape I thought I needed.

Now that I’m here again, watching him sell a TV to a typical customer, I realize I’m finding one in him now.

It’s been a few days since our movie night, and I don’t think I’ve ever texted anyone so much in my life.

He asked for my number after our movie night, promising he’d call before showing up. Reluctantly, I gave it to him, but I hadn’t expected him to text me so often. At first, I was hesitant to respond, but his charm was as addicting through the phone as it was in person, and ultimately, I found myself replying to him until it became thoughtless.

It’s been superficial—neither of us daring to tread too deeply. I know he’s overflowing with questions. Since I came in today, he’s been staring at me with a burning curiosity when he thinks I’m not paying attention yet. But I haven’t found the voice to tell him anything.

Admittedly, I’m too scared to.

I’m ashamed of my past. Ashamed of giving Layla up. And ashamed that I came running back when I couldn’t find happiness thousands of miles away from her.

And maybe a little ashamed that I didn’t have the gall to reconnect with him sooner—the only man who made me feel something outside of bone-crushing terror.

I’m sitting behind the counter, watching him work. He invited me to keep him company until the end of his shift. Even though he’s the owner, he tries to stick to a schedule alongside his employees, considering it’s his skills that are required to provide his real services.

“You are just so smart. I’ve no idea how to work these damn things anymore, but my grandson’s been asking me to get one of these flat-screen TVs for his video games. And, well, I’ll do anything for that kid,” the older woman explains, waving her wrinkled hand around as she speaks.

Cage grins, which is a complete cause for concern. Every time he does, I swear that poor woman’s heart stops, and an uncontrollable smile overtakes her wrinkled face.

“Well, then, who am I to get in the way of that? I’ll point you in the direction of the most cost-efficient TV that’ll make his heart happy. Sounds good, yeah?”

The woman titters. “So kind of you. Thank you, young man.”

They walk off, leaving me alone with Silas, Cage’s employee. We both glance at each other and then simultaneously roll our eyes.

“It’s annoying how he’s only gotten more charming with age,” Silas grumbles, flicking his black hair from his equally dark eyes.

He’s a handsome man himself, but his eyes tend to stray toward people who look a lot more like Cage.

“Whatever pays the bills, I guess,” I respond, though Silas is right. He’s only become more enigmatic since I’ve last seen him.

Which is definitely annoying.

“He never got over you, ya know,” Silas says, bringing my attention snapping back to him. When my brows crease in confusion, he explains, “It took about three years and a really drunken night to admit that you both slept together that night.” His arms rise defensively. “Which I’m not judging either of you for. Anyway, he blabbered on about how he hasn’t been able to think of anyone else since. How every day, he would picture you showing back up in the store. I guess, in a way, he’s been looking for you since you left, even if it was him that made you disappear.”

My heart clenches painfully. It’s a feeling that I understand.

Many nights, I questioned if I did the right thing by moving to Alaska. I would fantasize about what would happen if I went back and explored a different life—one with Cage.

If it would be as good as I thought it could be. But I talked myself out of it every time, convinced that changing the course of my life over one night with a man was entirely stupid and presumptuous.

I’d never been in a relationship beforehand, and certainly not after, so what the fuck would I know about what’s normal to feel after a one-night stand?

“He barely knew me,” I finally muster, clinging to the only excuse I have for the two of us always being drawn to each other the way we have. It was just one night. People don’t fall in love that quickly, and it would be insane to think otherwise.

“At one point in our lives, we don’t know our soulmates at all. But that doesn’t make them any less of one. Sometimes… sometimes you just know.”

I frown, contemplating that.

Cage reappears before I can wrap my head around that, and he slaps his hands on the counter to draw our attention.

“I have a few things to finish up for a client, and then I’m set to go,” he announces. Then, he tips his chin toward the back door. “Come back with me?”

Smiling tightly, I wave at Silas before following him through the back door.

My stomach flutters with nerves, and every time I look at Cage, I increasingly realize that maybe he’s more than just a man I slept with once.

And that is utterly terrifying.

For the next hour, I watch him work. He’s designing a new driver’s license for a client who will now reside in Maine. Black Portal is just a front, but his real job is making people disappear and reappear with an entirely new identity. New name, social security card, birth certificate, and state of residence.

Just like he did for me.

It’s fascinating to see what he does to legitimize their new life and make it seem as real as any other person.

“Why is this client disappearing?” I ask finally, when he’s almost finished.

He flicks his eyes toward me. “He killed his daughter’s rapist and murderer. He’s out on bail, but his lawyer is confident he’ll still serve about twenty-five to life for his crime.”

I chew on my lip. “You’re saving his life.”

Cage shrugs. “I’m just ensuring he has one. That’s all.”

He shuts his computer down, then turns to me on the chair.

“Let’s go grab some food, yeah? I know a great pizza place. They brew the best beer I’ve ever had.”

I wrinkle my nose. “I’m allergic to beer.”

His eyes round, and he looks almost devastated, which draws a smile to my lips.

“I’m so fucking sorry for you. They offer a few different cocktails.”

I shrug. “I’m just here for the pizza. You can thank yourself for that fixation.”

He grins, his eyes sparkling. “I’d like to think I’m responsible for a few fixations, but sure, we’ll start with pizza.”

My cheeks burn, his implication obvious. He’s implying his cock would be another, and fuck him for being right.

His wicked grin widens. “Come on, little ghost. Let’s go stuff that pretty little mouth.”

Said mouth drops, and he grabs my hand, pulling me after him as he laughs.

What a dick.

He’s lucky it’s a really fucking nice one.