love with someone else. I think God doesn’t always put two people that are perfect for each other together so early in their lives, but I one hundred percent believe He does sometimes.” He leaned toward her. “That’s us, sweetheart. Me and you. He gave me you when I needed you as a teenager, and he put you right back in my life this summer, because He knew I was too bone-headed to get the hint the first time.”
“I’ve broken up with you both times,” Molly said, a quick sob leaking out of her mouth. “If you’re a bonehead, what does that make me?”
“Cautious,” Hunter said without missing a beat. “Which you have every right to be.” He stepped closer and slowly gathered her into his arms, beyond pleased when she let him. “I will not hurt you. I will be the husband and father you want me to be. I’m not going to be perfect, but I swear to you, Molly, all you’ll need to do is sit me down and tell me what you want, and I will do it.”
She shook her head. “That’s not how marriage is, Hunt. We should talk about things and compromise. It’s not all about me.”
Hunter swallowed, because she was just so good. “Okay,” he said. “Let’s do that. I’d like to have a few months to prove to you that I can do this and pay attention to you. To find the balance. I’m guessing you’d like that too, but you’ll want things to happen quickly. Where’s the compromise in that?”
Molly laughed, and Hunter chuckled with her. When they sobered and their eyes met, Hunter leaned down and kissed her. The feelings moving through him reminded him of pure peace, because this woman loved him, flaws and all. This woman would forgive him when he messed up. He could be himself with her, and he didn’t have to hide anything.
“I can’t keep trying to live without you,” he whispered, sliding his lips down her neck. “I can work and work and work, but that’s not living.”
Molly took his face in her hands and looked straight into his eyes. “You’re my first love too, Hunter. When our paths diverge or start to stray from that parallel alignment, promise me we’ll work on getting them back where they belong—together.”
“I promise,” he said.
She nodded and turned toward the breakfast setup. “Okay,” she said. “I’m starving, and this is getting cold. Should we eat?”
“Sure,” he said, waiting for her to take a seat at the bar. He sat next to her. “I have so much stuff to tell you.”
“Yeah?” she asked, picking up a fork. “What kind of stuff?”
He thought of his therapy sessions over the past couple of weeks, his trip to Cambridge for Thanksgiving, and the talks with his father and grandfather. “So much.” He poured syrup over his French toast. “But first, you never did say how long you’re willing to give me to achieve the balance between home and work….”
Eight Months Later:
Molly swung down out of the saddle, still a bit shocked she could do so without stumbling. She’d actually fallen trying to get off a horse in the past, but she rode so often now, it was almost like breathing.
“How’s it going, Amy?” she called to a girl in the walking ring with one of Molly’s favorite horses, Cinnamon Sugar. She had a creamy white coat with sprinkles of brown and black, as if someone had dusted her with cinnamon sugar. The horse possessed a gentle spirit, which was perfect for someone like Amy.
“Good,” the twelve-year-old called to Molly.
She went over to the fence and put one foot on the bottom rung as she watched Amy walk with Cinnamon Sugar.
“Can you get her to stop?” Molly asked as they came around the ring toward her.
Amy made a clucking noise with her mouth, and the horse stopped. She beamed at Molly, who smiled back. “You’re getting so good with her.”
“Thanks,” Amy said. “You’re here because I have to go in for my session, right?”
Molly nodded, waiting for Amy’s outburst. She’d come to Pony Power for help with her anger. She’d been in two behavioral units last year, because she threatened other children and had no way to deal with her explosive anger.
Amy’s face fell, and she stepped over to Cinnamon Sugar. “I have to go now,” she said to the horse. “Thank you for walking so good for me.”
Cinnamon just hung her head there, and Amy stroked her hand down her nose.