Page 45 of Mountain Bean Dream
Like a slap across the face, the coldness of his words dug into my skin. My eyes narrowed, my jaw tightened.
His presence felt suffocating now, but I stood my ground. I wasn’t his to claim or dissect.
“Molly,” he pressed, leaning into my space, his breath too close, and I stiffened, every muscle in my body locking into place. An angry pulse pounded in my throat, but I refused to lethim see the cracks. It was simply Acting 101. “You doing this to make me jealous?”
On some level, maybe. But the real reason was harder to pin down. This wasn’t about Derek anymore—it was about me. About finding something real. Someone who didn’t need to make conditions to fit me into their life.
For a second, Jeremy’s face flickered in my mind. The way he’d helped me steady myself earlier that day without saying a word. No demands, no expectations—just support.
Derek’s voice cut through my thoughts. “Because it’s working, and it’s driving me crazy.”
The weight of his words hung between us. He looked at me then, a flash of something softer in his eyes, like he wanted to say more but couldn’t find the words. His fingers brushed the edge of the basket he carried, white-knuckled, before he turned on his heel and strode to the self-checkout. No sad smile, no hand wave, not even a goodbye. Just the fading sound of his footsteps as he left me standing there, breathless and rooted to the ground.
Watching Derek disappear into the checkout line, I exhaled, the tension in my shoulders slowly ebbing away. He’d always been so good at filling the space around him—taking control of the moment. Of me.
Jeremy never did that. When I was with him, the quiet wasn’t oppressive; it was... comforting. Like I didn’t have to fight for air.
I shook my head, forcing myself to focus. This wasn’t about Jeremy. It wasn’t about anyone else. It was about figuring out who I was when no one else was pulling the strings.
Chapter Fifteen
Still feeling like I’d had the rug pulled out from under me, I met Jeremy at the front of the school, unsure and totally confused about my encounter with Derek. The whole thing made my head throb.
Jeremy parked at the edge of the parking lot of the motel and silenced the truck, leaving us in an eerie void.
“Are you okay? You’ve been quiet since we left the school.”
“I think I’m just worn out.”
He smacked his forehead with his palm. “Of course. That was a long walk and you’re still healing. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not you… It’s just…” I faked a yawn.
“You need to rest. C’mon, I’ll help you.” Like previously, he assisted in helping me get out of his truck and insisted on carrying the bag of groceries to my door. “Can I get you anything?” He set the bag on the counter.
I shook my head. I needed to think, and typically the best way was for me to grab my flute and play. It brought a sense of clarity to my brain, but that wasn’t going to happen today.
“I’ll be okay, but thanks.” I brought my right arm over to my left shoulder like I was giving myself a hug.
“I’m worried. You’re sure you’re okay?” Jeremy crossed the short space in two long strides.
I looked everywhere but in his eyes. I didn’t want to see any concern or pity on his face like his voice was projecting. Another yawn pushed out of me, but this one wasn’t fake.
He stepped toward the door. “I’ll be in the office if you need me, okay?”
“Thanks. I appreciate that.” It was beyond comprehension to have someone be genuinely concerned.“When I get up, I’ll come find you.”
“I’d like that.” With another once-over, he gave me a quick nod and exited.
I closed the door, tipping the back of my head against it, the cool wood grounding me for a moment. Derek’s words still buzzed in my ears, sharp and tangled, but I wasn’t going to let them settle. Not anymore. What I needed now was a drink.
Opening the cupboard, my eyes landed on two bottles.
The first was a Pinot Grigio Derek used to pick out on our dates. It was safe, predictable, the kind of wine that wouldn’t overpower or offend. Derek had always liked that about it. My fingers brushed the label, and for a moment, I could almost hear him in my head.“This one’s good. It goes with everything.”
My hand hovered in front of the other—a Malbec. The deep maroon label caught the light, its edges slightly frayed from being shuffled around the shelf. It was bold, a little risky, unapologetic in its presence. The kind of wine that might not fit perfectly with every meal but carried its own weight, demanding to be savored on its own terms.
I hesitated, the choice hanging in the air.