"Nothing."

"Nothing?" With a deep scowl, he gave me the mandatory once over, eyes narrowed as he completed his usual stock-take of bruises. It was a wasted effort when I was fully clothed in my damn uniform. "Yeah. Another fucking nothing, D."

"Stop doing that," I snapped, when I couldn’t take his stare another minute. "I'm fine."

"I'll fuck him up," Rourke vowed, hands balling into fists on his lap "I swear, man, I don’t give a damn if he's the law or not. I'll beat his damn ass –"

"Forget it, Rourke." I shook my head and glared out the windshield. "Wren's not the problem." This time.

"Well, I'm sending Millie over tonight," he shot back. "If you aren't gonna talk then she can be my eyes." Amelia, or Millie for short, was Rourke's younger sister. She also happened to be my little sister's best friend. "And if he starts his crap with you –"

"Nothing is happening at home," I bit out, beyond agitated.

"Then what's the damn problem?" He reached forward and switched off the stereo. "I'm listening, Daryl."

"I fucked up, man. I fucked up real bad."

"Okay…" He hesitated before adding, "I'm all ears."

"I didn’t know," I choked out, my words a torn admission from somewhere deep inside of me. "I didn’t fucking know, man."

"Didn’t know what?"

"She's been here… and I didn’t…" Exhaling heavily, I let my shoulders sag, feeling the weight of my secrets pressing down hard on my conscience. "Fuck."

Rourke was a smart guy so I knew it wouldn’t take him long to figure out what my underlying issue was.

The moment realization flashed in his eyes, I felt a surge of panic flood my body.

"Molly," was all he said.

I exhaled a ragged breath and nodded stiffly. "Molly."

3 Twelve years ago

Daryl

"Daddy says I ain't allowed to have anyone over to play today," were the first words Molly said when I found her sitting on the sidewalk outside of her house.

Tossing the football I'd been playing with into my garden, I crossed the street and sank down beside her. "Is your mama in bed again?"

Sniffling, Molly nodded and wrapped her skinny arms around her knees.

Her long, blonde hair was pulled back in two braids that hung over her shoulders. Her denim overalls were covered in paint, and her eyes were red and puffy.

"I hate it." Another sniffle. "She's always sad and Daddy always makes me go outside when she cries. He says she's tired again, but she's always tired, D."

Yeah, I knew what she meant. Molly's mama used to be real good friends with my mama, but lately she spent all of her time in bed. She used to be so much fun. She played with us, and baked the greatest cookies in the whole world.

Not anymore.

Not since she got tired.

"Don’t cry, Molls," I coaxed, draping my arm over her shoulders. I didn’t like it when Molly cried. She was my best friend in the whole wide world. It made my chest hurt when she did that. "It's gonna be okay. She's just tired 'cause she's growing a baby."