The Choices I've Made (By the Bay #1)

"Jake, what are you doing here?" Molly asked, her hands full of leafy greens and bright-colored fruit.

She was still on the porch, her long legs in perfect view, as I stood below her in the clothes I'd worn to the clinic—a collared shirt and a pair of jeans. I'd given up on business wear around the second day when the old ladies from my parents' church kept pinching my cheeks, telling me how cute I looked.

"Came to see Terri," I said before taking a deep breath. "That's a lie. I was driving by my dad's house. I've been doing it every day since I got here. But I never stop. I just drive past like a creepy stalker. Or a coward. Take your pick."

"You're not a coward," she said, stepping down to my level. She looked different today. It was a good different once again. Her hair was down, something I hadn't seen in a while. The sun-bleached sections brought out the blue in her eyes, even in the dim light of the fading sunset.

"I feel like it. It's just a house, Mols. Just two-by-fours, nails, and a bunch of old paint. Why is this so hard?"

"You and I know it's more than that, Jake. Maybe you're not ready."

I snorted, taking several of the canvas bags off her hands. She didn't object.

"You should tell that to my back. After sleeping in my dad's office for the last few nights, I'm ready to check in to a hotel like a tourist."

She laughed. "You'd never live that one down."

I nodded. "I know. That is why I'm here. Or at least, it's why I was driving by, doing my creepy-stalker thing again. And then I saw your car, and I found myself stopping."

"You two had better get off my porch if you're gonna keep staring at each other like that! Otherwise, I'll get out the hose!" Terri hollered from her front door.

We both turned to see her giving us an appraising gaze, which we knew meant she wasn't kidding. At least about the hose part. We scooted across the driveway and toward our cars.

Suddenly, Molly turned around, holding the two bags she had left. "Let me make you dinner."

"What?" I said.

"You need to get in that house, Jake. You can't keep avoiding it, and you can't sleep in your dad's office forever. We'll address the fact that you still refer to it as your dad's place later, but for now, I'm going to go into that house and make dinner. You can either follow me or drive around a couple more times."

She walked a few paces, leaving me shocked and stunned, before turning around again. Holding out her free hand in front of me, she sheepishly said, "Key, please."

I swallowed deeply, unsure if I was ready for this. Digging down into my pocket, my fingers gripped the cold steel of the house key and presented it to her.

"Thank you. Oh, and when you finally decide to come inside, bring those bags with you, will you? I'd like to make a tart."

I looked down at the bags I had with several different fruits inside, and suddenly, the dread of what I was about to attempt lightened a little.

Nothing could be that bad when a tart was involved, right?

It took me a good fifteen minutes to reach the threshold of the old place. Sweat dripped down my forehead, and my hands shook. I was a fucking disaster. I seriously contemplated whether I was having a mental breakdown as I thought back to my psych rotation all those years ago in my residency.

Nope, probably not. Just stress.

Serious stress brought on by a crazy, hot blonde who was currently humming to herself in my parents' kitchen as she casually caramelized onions and sautéed garlic.