The Reckless Collision

Chapter Fifty-Nine

"I can agree with that," Ray said, his laugh a little more genuine this time.

Later, as the shadows deepened and the city lights flickered through the windows, Ray and I found ourselves in the kitchen. The scent of freshly cut tomatoes mingled with the quiet hum of the refrigerator, filling the space with a comforting familiarity.

Ray leaned against the counter, his eyes following my movements as I chopped vegetables. The rhythmic sound of the knife on the cutting board was soothing, bringing normalcy to a hectic day.

"What's on your mind?" he asked, his voice soft but probing.

I sighed, the weight of the day pressing heavily on my shoulders. "I've been thinking about the move. It's such a big change, Ray. What if we're not ready?"

He crossed his arms, his expression thoughtful. "In what way?" he asked.

The knot in my chest didn't loosen. "I'm not sure, I hear your mom saying that you need to think about this move and maybe you do need to think so more," I explained meeting his gaze.

"I did," he said, stepping closer. "It's a lot to process. But we need this. A new beginning, away from the memories that haunt us here."

His words struck a chord, and I looked up at him, my heart aching with both fear and hope. "You're right, I just want to make sure this move is right for—you."

Ray placed a hand on my arm, his touch steady and reassuring. "It is, love."

I smiled weakly, feeling a flicker of warmth in his unwavering support. "You're my rock, Ray. I don't know what I'd do without you."

He smiled back, his eyes filled with quiet determination. "You'll never have to find out. "Let's make a list," he said. "We can tackle it one thing at a time."

"Okay," I began, trying to organize my thoughts. "First, my apartment. We need to pack my stuff and find a real estate agent. They can handle the sale—we won't even have to stay for it."

Ray scribbled notes, his handwriting neat and deliberate. "Got it. We should start sorting through our things here, too. Decide what to take and what to leave behind. Maybe Logan could stay here?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Since we don't really need the money, that could work. He could live here, and you could charge him rent—or not."

Ray nodded in agreement, his easy acceptance a balm to my frayed nerves.

As the smell of grilled chicken and tangy Greek salad filled the kitchen, the sound of the front door thudding shut caught our attention. Moments later, Spot bounded into the room, his tongue lolling, clearly exhausted from his walk.

"Molly!" I exclaimed as my best friend followed close behind, her blond hair tousled, cheeks flushed from the heat, and her posture drooping with fatigue.

She collapsed onto a stool beside Ray, her tone light despite her untidy appearance. "Something smells amazing," she said in a singsong voice. "The weather's too hot, and Spot's way too fast."

Ray stood, grabbing his phone from the counter. "I'll eat later. Need to make a few calls."

I gave him a knowing smile. Whether he genuinely had calls to make or just wanted to give Molly and me space to talk, I appreciated the gesture.

"Grilled chicken and Greek salad," I said, sliding a plate in front of Molly.

"Greek salad? My favorite," she said, grinning as she eyed the plate. "Let me wash up first." She moved to the sink, rinsing her hands briskly before sitting back down.

"What did the cops say?" she asked, her tone turning serious.

I exhaled, the memory of the conversation still raw. "Plenty," I admitted, resting my arms on the counter. "Nothing I want to get into right now. Bottom line: we're cleared to move to New York. What about you? When are you heading back to Vancouver?"

Molly sighed, her shoulders slumping. "I'm not going back to Vancouver."

I paused, knife poised over the chicken. "Why not?"

"Mason and I broke up," she said, her voice tinged with resignation as she joined me on a stool.

"What?" I turned to face her fully, my knife forgotten. "Why didn't you tell me sooner? What happened?"

She took a deep breath, her gaze fixed on the counter. "We just couldn't make it work. His schedule was insane, and it felt like we were always fighting. Neither of us was happy. He wanted to get married and have kids so just I would have something to do and it didn't sit right with me. So, I called it. I'm staying with my parents for now, but when Ray told me about the shooting, I booked a flight here instead of heading straight back to New York."

I reached for her hand, squeezing it tightly. "You did the right thing, Molly. Sometimes, walking away is the best choice. But moving back in with your parents? That doesn't sound ideal."

She gave me a small smile, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I know. But it's a temporary fix. It just feels like I've failed, you know? Mason was the one good thing I had going."

"You didn't fail," I said firmly. "Relationships are messy and complicated. Sometimes, they just don't work out, no matter how hard we try. You'll find new opportunities—new happiness."

Her gratitude shone through as she smiled at me. "Thanks, Sam. For now, I'll help my mom with her wedding business. And hey, we'll both be in the city. Maybe some good will come out of this mess."

I laughed softly, grateful for her resilience. "What happened with Andrew?" I asked, curiosity getting the better of me.

Molly groaned, dropping her head to the counter. "Courtney was all over him after you went to bed. He looked so uncomfortable. I mean, he's gorgeous, and, well... one thing led to another. Nothing major happened, though—he left before it could."

"He's a great guy," I said, twirling my fork in the salad.

"I noticed," she replied with a sheepish grin. "Don't worry, I'm not diving into anything new. I was just... drunk. It's a lousy excuse, but it's the truth."

We shared a laugh, the tension easing as we reminisced over dinner. The familiar rhythm of our friendship enveloped us like a comforting veil, and for a while, the weight of our respective challenges lifted.

By the time Ray rejoined us in the living room, the mood had lightened. Molly offered to help us pack, and as we discussed the logistics of the move, a renewed sense of purpose filled the space. For the first time in days, hope didn't feel quite so distant.