"There absolutely is," I interjected, blocking her path and closing the space between us. Electricity jolted through me when my arm brushed against hers and I took a safe step back. "There is every need and I'm not going away until you agree."

"Agree?" Molly narrowed her eyes, instantly wary. Hell, I didn’t even blame her. I would be wary, too. "Until I agree to what?"

She was so short that I had to stoop to be eye-level with her. "Until you agree to take me back."

Her breath audibly hitched in her throat. "T-take you back?"

"Yeah." I nodded slowly, my gaze riveted to her big brown eyes. "Give me another chance, Molls." I blew out a pained breath. "Let me be your friend again."

"I'm not the same little girl you remember," she said, taking a step backwards, walls up and guarded. "I grew up, Daryl, and the version of me that I am now doesn’t exactly fit in your world."

"Yeah? Well, I grew up, too, Molly," I replied, rising to my full height of 6'4 again. "I'm not the same punk-ass kid that you remember. But I can promise that when it comes to keeping you in my life, I have no problem making room for all of your versions."

She was quiet for such a long time that I honestly didn’t think she was going to respond. But then her lips twitched and a small smile spread across her face. "Wow. Can I have fries with that cheese you just served me?"

Relief, more potent than I'd ever experienced before, filled my chest and I found myself mirroring her smile. "I meant that from the bottom of my heart."

"Uh-huh." She rolled her eyes, still smiling. "Sure you did."

"So, can I take that as a yes?" I dared to ask.

"Okay…" She sounded cautious when she spoke. "I guess I can give you another shot, King Douche."

My smile morphed into a grin. "You remember that nickname?"

She smirked up at me and shrugged. "I remember everything."

Fuck, I hoped not.

"So, how is this going to work?" Climbing onto her bed, she sat cross-legged, facing me, her boots hidden beneath the hem of her dress. "It's been eight years. I've outgrown Barbies and you've clearly outgrown…well, by the looks of it, everything." Reaching for her glasses on the nightstand, she perched them on her cute little button nose and studied me with a peculiar expression. "I still stand by the theory that your mama should've had your lanky butt tested for giantism."

"It ain't my fault you stopped growing when we were eight, short-ass," I shot back with a wolfish grin, joining her on her bed, feeling myself slip back into an age-old pattern of affection and banter with her. "And the first thing we need to do is go shopping." Reaching over, I tugged on the hem of her ugly-ass cardigan. "Didn’t realize you had aged fifty years, grams."

"I'll have you know that there is nothing wrong with my choice of clothing," she snipped, smacking my hand away. "Besides, give me comfort over fashion all day long."