Molly-Dolly.

"Fuck," I croaked out, feeling my stomach bottom out, body tensing at the sight of her. She didn’t look back at me, and I was glad. I didn’t want anyone seeing the level of guilt I was currently drowning in.

"She fucking hates me." My best friend's laugh infiltrated my thoughts – hell, never mind infiltrating, he goddamn spoke my thoughts aloud – and I flinched.

Four words.

She fucking hates me.

Yeah, that sounded about right.

Looking up, I spotted Mercy James edging her sweet ride towards the jammed exit. She was steering the car with one hand, while flipping Rourke off with the other.

"That's right, Six," Rourke purred, using the pet name he'd given her. "Flip me off, baby. I'll put those hands to good use later." He returned her middle-fingered gesture and continued to revel in his victory, completely unaware of the inner turmoil I was drowning in.

Of course, I knew why the douche was currently sporting a shit-eating grin. After months of verbal warfare, not to mention unbearable sexual tension, he'd finally persuaded his stepsister to get under him.

Both literally and figuratively.

That's right.

My best friend was banging his own damn sister now.

"Is it bad that I want to choke her out almost as much as I want to get inside her?" Rourke asked, watching her car as she finally pulled out of sight "Fuck, she's beyond temptation, man."

"Y'all are toxic as fuck," I offered, unable to garner any enthusiasm for the sudden development in his sex life. "Sissy's as likely to cut your balls off as she is to open her legs for you."

My words of warning didn’t seem to deter Rourke. In fact, he looked downright delighted with himself. "I know." He grinned devilishly. "That's what makes her so damn interesting."

Dysfunctional asshole.

"You've got mommy issues, dude." Running a hand through my hair, I flicked on my blinker and pulled into line. "Seriously," I added. "You need Jesus."

"Nah. It's too late for me to repent, dude. Besides, I'm not sorry and I've already booked my ticket to hell," Rourke said breezily. "On another note, I can't believe you didn’t realize Molly was back in town." He shook his head. "Y'all were tight as fuck when we were kids."

I couldn’t believe it either.

And I hadn't just been tight with Molly Peterson; I'd spent my every waking hour with the girl until I was ten.

We'd grown up together until the night she left.

And you forgot her.

I shook my head, recoiling in both shame and horror.

How the fuck did a person do that?

How had she managed to walk around my school for two years without me noticing?

Was I that fucking obtuse?

Jesus, this was screwing with my head.

Messing me up real bad.

Memories of another lifetime flooded me and the pain was severe, like being winded to the point of passing out…

I hated going to church. Sitting in the pew beside my mama and sissy, I folded my arms across my chest and glared straight ahead. Dressed in my Sunday finest, I felt like a tool. I hated the navy sportscoat I'd been forced to wear, but not nearly as much as I hated the man whose hand my mother was holding.