Molly's Hope (A Second Chance Romance Book 3) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Epilogue

  About the Authors

  Copyright 2017 © Gone Writing Publishing

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  All Rights Reserved

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Epilogue

  About the Authors

  Chapter One

  Lars

  HANGOVER DREAMS ARE either nightmares from hell or heavenly inspired visions.

  My tongue was stuck to the top of my mouth and some kind of animal had defecated in my mouth, or at least that’s what it tasted like.

  “Try to drink something, Lars.” The voice was angelic. The way she said my name was like a symphony, but if she asked me to drink something other than a little more whiskey one more time, my stomach was going to explode, not to mention my head.

  “Shut up.” Or at least that’s what I thought I said. In my ears, it sounded a little more like the teacher from Peanuts who just mumbles.

  I rolled back over and someone threw a warm blanket over me. I hoped it was death. I’d been so cold for so long that even warmth from hell would be welcoming.

  I thought maybe someone was removing my shoes and socks.

  They were making too much noise.

  It was possible I had fallen asleep on the street. Wouldn’t be the first time.

  The blanket covered my toes and whisked me off into another slumber, rather it pulled me down into the depths of what actually felt like hell.

  “What?” I grumbled into the darkness. Someone was calling my name and I didn’t appreciate it one single bit.

  “It’s almost afternoon. Time to get up. Sleeping it off time is over.”

  I knew that voice–either that or I was still drunk.

  “Who cares.”

  The person, a woman, that woman, laughed at me. “I do.”

  “No one does.” I grumbled and tried to roll over.

  “Get up right now, Lars, before I pour ice water all over you. The ice-bucket challenge will have nothing on me before this is over.”

  She was trying to be aggressive and angry but failing miserably. She was a strong woman but sometimes her tough side never came through. Right now, I didn’t care. She wasn’t going to follow through with her empty threat.

  “Bring it.”

  “You asked for it.”

  This time I did roll over and pulled the blanket over my face. I’d just drifted back into darkness when the blanket was taken and she held true to her threat. At first, I was in shock–the coldness stole the breath from my lungs.

  Then I was full-blown angry.

  “Who do you think you are? No one invited you here.”

  My eyes were bulged open, my attempt at forcing some sense of being awake without caffeine or a shower or a little more vodka to dull the throbbing between my temples.

  “Let’s get you in the shower. You smell like a drunken dumpster.”

  “I can get myself into the shower. Why are you here?”

  She got up from kneeling on the floor beside my mattress. Her hair wasn’t as long as it used to be. I remembered it all the way down her back. Now it stopped just below her shoulder. Maybe my eyesight was finally going because it wasn’t shiny either. It was also like silk when I ran my fingers through it.

  “I’ll start the water. Hot or cold? You always liked cold showers for some reason.”

  I didn’t want her to go into my bathroom or in my apartment. She wasn’t welcome here. I didn’t even want to look at her face. She turned her back on me a long time ago. There was no point in having her here. All I was going to do was sleep. Now, she’ll just aggravate me.

  “Hot. I’m freezing now.”

  While she was gone, I took the moment to look down at the state of me. I usually didn’t care what I looked like during the day but especially after drinking. I was wearing a gray shirt and some jeans I didn’t remember owning.

  That couldn’t be good news.

  My mattress and blankets were sopping wet. Half of the blankets were on the floor, and the other half bunched on the other side of the bed. It wasn’t the first time waking up like that either. I looked to see if my wallet was around. I hated losing it. Usually the guys at the bar held onto it for me. It appeared to be on the floor near the mattress. I didn’t have much by way of furniture because I didn’t need much. Most of my clothes stayed in the basket since my landlady usually did it for me. She would also bring me some she found.

  I rolled onto my knees and managed to get up on my feet. I peeked out the bedroom door and saw the apartment looked more like a tornado of fast food and alcohol had passed through while I was out. Did I even care? No. I’ll pick it up later.

  Maybe.

  “There you go. Do you need help?”

  I didn’t answer. Instead I took ten minutes getting on my feet and then stripped myself down to my boxers right in front of her. It wasn’t like she hadn’t seen it before–after all–we had been married once.

  “Why are you here?” I asked again, stalking to the shower. I didn’t even give her a chance to answer. There was no answer that would placate me at this point. There was still too much drink in my system. There was still too much anger in my veins.

  There was still so much hate for her in my heart.

  The steaming hot water soothed my muscles enough for me to lift my arms and wash my hair. I knew this relaxed state wouldn’t last. It would be enough to get me through this shower. I needed to get some coffee–and maybe food– to help dull the headache. Did I have food here? Probably not. I could always call for some from Mom.

  Either way, Molly Williamson had to leave.

&n
bsp; Chapter Two

  Molly

  WHEN I ARRIVED last night, Jameson had to help me get Lars out of the bar and into his apartment. I was thirty-two years old and getting too old to lug a dead drunk up to his bed.

  I stripped the sheets since he had thrown up on them and he doesn’t even remember. As I put fresh sheets on the bed, which wouldn’t be something I’d call a bed, there was a knock on the bedroom door. “You can come in, Jameson.” I didn’t need to turn around to know it was him.

  Jameson Berkley and I first met in grade school. It was there he, Lars and I became best friends. Everyone thought it was strange I hung out with them, but I was a huge tomboy and they didn’t treat me like a girl. I was their equal. It was no surprise that Jameson and Lars went off to the Army together and remained friends this long. They were closer than brothers.

  “How’s he doing?”

  When he picked me up yesterday at the airport, I wasn’t shocked to see he looked exactly the same. He was tall and a little lanky. He was an active runner and had lean muscles. His sandy blond hair was styled as if he rolled out of bed. Then again, knowing him as well as I do, he probably did just roll out of bed. We’ve talked a lot through the years, but I’ve not really seen him since I left Lars.

  “Being a big ol’ jerk.” I sighed tucking in the sheet. “Are you all packed and ready to go?”

  “I am, but I got a text.”

  I stopped and stood up. “From who? Don’t tell me your girlfriend, who you’re moving in with, told you that she doesn’t want your gassy butt anymore.”

  He chuckled. “I’ve missed you, Moles.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I’m old enough not to have that nickname anymore. You even said it in your best man speech at our wedding.”

  He helped me straighten the comforter and I tossed the pillows on the bed.

  “So, who’s the text from?”

  “Pam and Stacy Grekov.”

  I became frozen in place. “Why? Do they know I’m here?”

  “They do. They’re actually the ones who gave me the idea to ask you back.”

  I sighed. “What do they want?”

  “They want to talk to you. They’re on their way. After we all talk, I’m going to load up my boxes and head over to my new place.”

  “Fine.” I shouldn’t have been shocked Lars’ mother and sister was coming over. Like Jameson, I’ve talked to them as well over the years. Mainly for them to tell me about Lars. “When will they be here?”

  He was about to tell me when the bathroom door opens and Lars slightly stumbles out. Thankfully, he was wearing boxers.

  “What do you want?” He sneered at Jameson. “Aren’t you supposed to be moving out?”

  “I am, but I want to check on you and make sure–”

  “Shut up.” He growled as he laid back down on the bed and yanked the comforter over his body.

  “No way, mister.” I pulled on his arm and made him stand back up. “You need to eat and get some water in you.”

  “Why are you here?” He jerked his arm away from me and lost his footing. I grabbed his arm and helped him steady himself. “Why are you here?” He gritted his teeth this time. This was the third time he asked this particular question, but I hadn’t answered.

  I was sure he wasn’t ready for the truth of why I was here cleaning up his vomit.

  “Lars, let’s get you some food.”

  Jameson nodded over toward the door and even though he was still staring at me, he finally headed out of the bedroom. I fixed the bed again and went into the bathroom. It wasn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be. I easily cleaned up the discarded towels before going into the kitchen. However, I will have to do a deep clean on the apartment. It smelled like vomit–and dare I say–death.

  Lars was sitting at the table with a large cup of coffee in front of him. Memories of him came flooding back to me. My heart would always belong to him. There hasn’t been anyone in my life before or after our divorce. He was everything to me. But I had to divorce him because he wanted the one thing I couldn’t give him.

  “Why are you here?” He glared at me over his coffee cup.

  “I’m here for Jameson’s famous breakfast–his bacon and cheese omelet.” I poured a cup of coffee for myself and sat down across from him. “How’s your head? Need more aspirin?”

  “I don’t need a mommy.” He mumbled.

  Before I could give him a slap on the back of his head, the doorbell went off, and he groaned. “Good,” I said louder than needed close to his ears. “I’ll get it.”

  Jameson chuckled as he cracked some more eggs.

  As I opened the door Pam and Stacy both smiled at me. “I’m glad you came.” Pam hugged me.

  Lars’ mother was a woman I strived to be in my life. Good, wholesome, caring, and put the needs of others before her own. She cried at our wedding and even harder when I told her I was divorcing Lars. She begged me to wait for him, but I couldn’t do it. There were things happening in my life and he couldn’t be part of them.

  “We’re both happy you’re here.” Stacy hugged me the second Pam released me.

  “I know this has to be hard for you, Molly, but we didn’t know what else to do.” Pam explained as she shut the door.

  Stacy finally let me go and stepped back. “He’s really far gone now.” Her brown eyes began to water.

  “I told Jameson I would stay through this week and help him as much as I could. Then I’ll need to go back home.”

  When Jameson called me, I had every intention of telling him no, but when he told me what was happening to Lars, I felt as if I needed to be here for him. At least, the best I could be. Over the years he told me how Lars’ drinking had steadily increased, but since his last tour in Iraq, it had become much worse. He had lost a lot of his unit on the last tour and wasn’t dealing well with it.

  “Molly, he needs you. None of us can get him to go to the doctor or get him out of bed. He does nothing but drink and…well…that’s it.” Pam’s voice was straining to hold back the tears. “He needs you to help him. I need you to help him. I don’t want my son to drink himself into a black hole where no one can get him out.” She took my hands in hers. “Please help us. Even if it takes more than a week. I’ll owe you. I’ll give you whatever you want.”

  The pain on her face was clear as the Texas summer sky. I had seen how bad Lars had become last night at the bar. He couldn’t stand, slurred his words bad enough I didn’t understand anything he was trying to say and he passed out in the back of Jameson’s truck.

  “You don’t have to give me anything. I promise I will help you with him.” I gave in. It wasn’t just for her, but my love for Lars. I didn’t want him to drink himself to death either.

  “Thank you.” Pam and Stacy hugged me again.

  “He’s in the kitchen.” I told them. “We’re trying to feed him.”

  We all walked in together and Lars groaned seeing all of us. “Great, it’s Charlie’s Angels.”

  “Lars, enough.” Pam sat down next to him. “You look as if you were run over by a tractor. What is wrong with you? Why won’t you go to the doctor?”

  He stared down at his almost empty coffee cup.

  “Answer me. I’m your mother and I can’t stand to see you like this. Let us help you.” She begged.

  I know how much he loved his mom and sister. In fact, all of his family. His father had passed away when he was a teenager, and he was truly the man of the house since most of his brothers and sisters were older and had already moved out of the house. Only he and Stacy remained. He did everything for his mother and was extremely protective of his sister. When he left for his first overseas station, he made Jameson and me promise to watch over them both. Of course, he wouldn’t have to make us promise. We would have done it regardless.

  “Please.” She touched his shoulder. “We’re all here to help.”

  “I don’t need any help. I’m fine.”

  “No, you’re not.” I scoffed at him.<
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  “Why are you here?” He glared again at me, but I crossed my arms and narrowed my eyes at him.

  “She’s here because I asked her.” Jameson spoke up.

  “We all wanted her here because she’s probably the only person who can help you.” Pam added.

  “I don’t need help,” he yelled jumping up from his chair. He looked at each of us before storming off to his bedroom. Lars would be passionate about certain topics and would have heated debates with me, but never, ever would he yell. Especially at his family.

  “I’ll handle this.” I headed down the hall to his room and didn’t even knock before going in. “What’s your problem, Lars? The man I knew didn’t raise his voice to his mother.”

  He was sitting in the middle of the bed with his head in his hands. “Go away.”

  “Nope.” I stood in front of him at the end of the bed. “You’re going to get clean and sober and your butt to the doctor.”

  “Go away,” he said again.

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Could have fooled me?” He dropped his hands and his once bright brown eyes were dull and empty. Lars had always been full of life, laughing and smiling. Now it was as if I was looking at a stranger and not the love of my life.

  “Do you want to go there right now?” I challenged him. I knew he wanted to discuss our divorce. Neither one of us really had closure from it. It was my fault because of what happened, but it was the only way I could give him what he wanted.

  “I want you to get lost.” He looked down at his hands. It was clear they were slightly shaking.

  “Not going to happen. Now, stop being a baby. Are you ready to man up and go in there and apologize to your mother?”