Trauma. What a strange word to choose.
Was that how he saw it? That she'd been traumatized?
Not that she was weak? A big 'fraidy cat, scared of her own shadow?
Iris clucked to one of the horses that had wandered in their direction. She dug in her pocket and came up with an apple slice. "Have you called the police?"
Molly swallowed hard. "Back in Austin." She tried to breathe as the memories rolled over her. "It didn't help."
Iris's horse was watching her warily. "You might try reaching out to the sheriff's office in town. Maybe they could help."
The horse pawed at the ground. It bobbed its head as Iris held the apple on her outstretched palm, calm as could be.
"I learn a lot from these guys," Iris said. The horse pawed the ground again. "He wants the apple, but you're too close."
Molly rocked back on her heels. "Do you want me to—?"
"Nope." Iris kept her eyes on the horse. And waited. "He's got to learn that I'm not the only good human out there."
The horse snorted a burst of air and wheeled, moving several yards away and bending his head to snuffle at the grass inside the corral.
"Most of the time, Jilly and I don't know all the details about what these guys have been through." Iris lowered her arm, resting it against the fence, though she kept the apple in her hand. She glanced at Molly. "What I know is that there's never a clear path to rehabilitation. It might be one step forward and three steps back. It might take months for me to earn trust from an animal that has suffered intense neglect. Or everything might be going along swimmingly for weeks, and then something happens that triggers fear, something I never saw coming."
It was impossible to ignore the parallels to Molly's own situation. Iris might be talking about her rescued animals, but she was also talking about Molly.
She was silent for a moment. Then, "It's okay for you to not be okay."
Hot tears pricked Molly's eyes. She raised one hand to pinch the bridge of her nose, to try and stop them.
She'd been doing her best to be strong. Her dad had refused to help her. The police couldn't protect her, not really.
And now Iris was telling her that it was okay to be weak.
"I like Cord," she blurted. "A lot. I don't want him to think..." I'm nuts.
Iris snorted a half-laugh.
And now Molly heard the distinct sound of Cord's footsteps coming up behind them.
Iris must've too, but it didn't stop her from saying, "Cord's got just as many issues as you do. Maybe more. He just hides them better."
He came up beside Molly. Closer than Iris. Close enough that his elbow brushed hers. He held her gaze. Steady. There was something between them. She felt it, even if he wouldn't acknowledge it.
"Issues?" she asked, not looking away from Cord's gaze.
Iris made a noncommittal noise from behind Molly.
But Cord didn't look away. "There were five of us real close in high school," he said. "Best friends. Closer than a dumb TV sitcom. Me and Noah, Jilly and Iris and Callum." He rushed the last name, like he didn't want to have to say it in front of Iris.
The other woman just looked across the pasture, not acknowledging it.
“Graduation night, we decided to pop off some fireworks. Have some fun. Noah brought a six-pack. Thought we could unwind a little.”
"Someone was against it," Iris mumbled, still beside Molly.
Cord. The safety patrol.
"Normal teen stuff," he said, ignoring Iris's interruption. "No big deal." The little lines around his eyes tightened as he said it. Obviously, it was a big deal. “It started raining and the girls left. The road was slick. Muddy. Car drifted off the road and right into a tree. This huge branch pierced right through the windshield like it was nothing. Where Noah was sitting, in the passenger side.”
Molly's breath stilled in her chest. How horrible. For Noah.
And for Cord and his friends to have been a part of it.
Cord's expression was tight, and he looked off to the side. "We were so far out of town, it took forever for the ambulance to reach us. He was airlifted to a trauma center, but…”
She couldn't bear to find out. Couldn't bear not to. Had Noah died?
He shook his head tightly, as if he could read her thoughts. Or maybe was just lost in his memories. "He lost his sight. Had scarring across his face. We ruined his life."
Oh, Cord. Her heart ached for the man, for what he carried.
"But he lived," she whispered. "Is he still—?"
"He moved away for a few years,” Iris said. “But he’s been back a long time. He lives across town. But he's a loner. A recluse. Jilly and I tried to reach out for a while. For a long time.” This said with a rueful smile. Then Iris shook her head and shrugged helplessly.
Iris had her hand extended again, the horse considering the apple. "Why don't you tell her the rest?"
Molly's head bounced back to look at Cord again. There was more?
He was frowning deeply, watching Iris with the horse.
When Cord didn’t speak, Iris did. “Noah and his mom didn’t want to press charges, but the local police wanted to make an example out of Cord.” She cleared her throat. “Since he was driving.”
Something in the way she said it... Molly knew she wasn't telling the truth. Or the whole truth, at least. Was that about Callum, the name that Cord had done everything to gloss over?
Cord stared at the horizon, his eyes narrow and his walls up. "Mackie got me off. I didn't serve time."
But the damage had been done. She already knew his grandma had been hard on him. What would the old woman have done, have said, when this terrible event had happened?
"You lost your scholarship, though," Iris said.
That very first day, Molly had
