Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

MOLLY

Seething.

That was a word Molly never imagined she would use to describe herself, but as she stood there this morning, fuming with every breath she took, it was the only one that fit. It was more than just irritation; it was a deep, smoldering rage that was slowly but surely boiling over. She could feel it building, like a pot left unattended on a hot stove—like percolating coffee, like something that was crock-potting away inside her, growing and thickening until it was practically scalding.

And the reason?

Gerry.

The very thought of him, of what he had said, of what he had done, made her insides twist with anger. To be called ‘Beetlejuice’—she was humiliated, offended, and enraged. That was bad enough, but then the truth came out: Gerry had given her the nickname. Gerry, the guy she had foolishly trusted, the one she had allowed herself to feel something for—he had named her after some ridiculous, out-of-touch character just to poke fun at her .

But it didn’t stop there.

No, the conversation had gone on, twisting the knife deeper. She had learned that Gerry didn’t just think she was a joke—he had asked her out because he thought it would make things easier for the whole team. He was doing it for them, not because he wanted to get to know her, not because he had any romantic interest, but because he thought she was “so awful” that it was better to pretend everything was fine, to fake a relationship, just to make things easier on everyone else.

The betrayal she felt at that moment was a heavy weight, a crushing feeling in her chest that wouldn’t go away. She had thought there was something there. She had thought he saw her, not just as some joke, not just as ‘Beetlejuice,’ but as Molly. She had dared to step out of her comfort zone—flirting, for goodness sake, something she never did. She had kissed him—more than once. And now? Now she found out it had all been a sick joke to him, a way to make his life easier.

All day long, the thought pounded in her head: He really must hate me.

Working with everyone except Gerry was an almost tangible relief. She couldn’t look at him, couldn’t stand the thought of being near him without that searing rage inside her making her want to scream. She was sure she would lose her mind if she had to interact with him one-on-one again.

The humiliation felt like it would never end.

Every time she thought of their kisses—so sweet, so tender, so full of possibility—it made her stomach turn. What was it, exactly, that he had enjoyed about that? The thrill of the game? The fact that he could get a laugh out of it? It hurt. It hurt in a way she didn’t know how to fix.

Molly muttered to herself, bitter and raw, as she kicked the drawer of her desk shut with a thud.

“Well, thank heavens I didn’t full-on ‘let my inner hoe flow’ and have sex with the big guy because tha t would have been mortifying…” Her voice trailed off as her eyes landed on the door.

She froze.

Gerry was standing there, leaning against the doorframe, looking like someone had almost knocked him out. His hand rested over his heart, the other gripping the doorframe as he stared at her, eyes wide in shock and something else she couldn’t quite place. He looked… ashamed. But she didn’t care. Not right now.

“What?” she snapped, her voice low and full of anger. She wasn’t about to pretend she wasn’t furious with him.

“We could have slept together?” he whispered, his voice hushed, as if the very words might make the earth swallow him whole. “And it would have been mortifying to you?”

Molly shot up from her seat, shaking with emotion. “How does it feel to walk in on a conversation you shouldn’t have heard?” she retorted sharply. “Hurts, doesn’t it?”

Gerry flinched, but he didn’t back down. He stepped inside her office and closed the door behind him, locking it with a deliberate click. The finality of it made her heart race, but she held her ground.

“We need to talk—and I deserved that,” he said, his voice barely a whisper, filled with remorse.

Molly’s heart twisted.

"You probably deserved a lot more," she spat. Her gaze landed on the package on her desk, the cookies she didn’t remember ordering. Who would send her cookies at a time like this? She couldn't handle it—couldn’t deal with anything sweet when all she could taste was the bitterness of betrayal. She gripped the edge of her desk, trying to steady herself. “Look, I don’t want to talk to you. I think it’s best if we don’t see each other anymore.”

And with that, she walked over and yanked open the door to her office again - a silent invitation that he could leave now. To her surprise, Gerry didn’t hesitate. He shut the door behind him, locking it once more. His presence loomed over her, intimidating and undeniable.

“We need to talk,” he said quietly, his eyes glinting with something she couldn’t decipher. “Alone.”

Molly blinked in confusion, her anger bubbling up once more. “I’m not backing off because I’m jumping ship. I’ll find another job if I have to. Get away from all of this.” Her voice broke, the pain creeping in, but she tried to sound resolute. She couldn’t stay where she felt humiliated, where everything she’d thought was real had turned to dust.

Gerry moved forward, nearly towering over her. “What?” His voice was a low growl, and his eyes narrowed as he took in her words. “You’re not leaving.”

“I am,” she shot back fiercely, her heart pounding. But she couldn’t quite meet his eyes, could barely bear the intensity of his gaze. “I’m done with this. I’m done with you.”

But Gerry wasn’t listening. He was closer now, standing just inches from her, his posture radiating frustration—and something more vulnerable that she hadn’t expected to see. His chest rose and fell with each breath, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, but there was something in his eyes, something raw and exposed, that made her heart twist.

“You’re not leaving,” he repeated, his tone now softer, more insistent, yet still heavy with emotion. “You’re not going anywhere.”

Her breath caught in her throat, the words landing like a heavy weight in the air. This wasn’t how she imagined this conversation would go. This wasn’t what she’d planned, what she thought she’d prepared for. She had envisioned anger, maybe some shouting, a few harsh words—definitely not this sudden, unrelenting need in his voice.

It threw her off balance.

The anger still burned in her chest, but now it was accompanied by something much deeper, something far more complicated than she had expected. She felt exposed, vulnerable, caught between wanting to yell at him and wanting to step closer to him, to hear him out despite herself.

“I can’t do this,” she admitted, her voice thick with emotion. She didn’t hold back, the words coming out bitterly, laced with all the hurt she’d been carrying. “You hate me, mock me, fight with me every time I turn around, and I’m sick of it. I thought for a moment that maybe we could be friends, and… and maybe that could be enough. But it’s not. It’s not enough. I deserve more than this.”

The words stung, and even as she said them, she could feel the tears threatening to spill. She hated that they were there, hated that he could make her feel so exposed. But she couldn’t stop them. Not now. Not after everything.

“I want to be more than friends,” he said, his voice quieter now, edged with sincerity, the frustration in his posture shifting to something else—something softer. His gaze never wavered from hers, a desperate kind of pleading in his eyes that unsettled her more than she was willing to admit.

“You sure don’t show it,” she retorted, the bitterness in her tone louder than the hurt. She crossed her arms tightly over her chest, the action almost protective, as if warding off the vulnerability that came with his words.

“I know – and I’m sorry,” he said contritely, the apology unexpected, and for a moment, it disarmed her. This wasn’t the reaction she’d anticipated. She had expected more defensiveness, maybe an argument. She’d braced herself for him to push back, to deny it, to get even angrier. But this? This was different. He wasn’t fighting. He was admitting fault, admitting that he’d messed up.

“You’re right,” he continued, his voice steady but filled with remorse. He shifted slightly, looking down, his hands now at his sides as though he didn’t kno w where to put them. “I’ve treated you terribly, made you feel unwelcome, and I wanted all of that to change... but it fell apart today, and I hate that. I ruined it. After the best evening I’ve had in forever.”

She stood there, frozen, unable to speak. His words, so simple, so full of regret, weighed heavily on her. She wanted to respond, to tell him how much it had hurt, how much it still hurt, but she couldn’t bring herself to say anything. She just stood there, feeling the air between them grow thick with emotion.

“Last night was incredible,” he continued, his voice breaking the silence, softer this time, his eyes earnest and unwavering. “I laughed, I smiled, and I had such a wonderful evening just talking with you like we were friends. I want that. I want us to be more than friends, but I know I have a long way to go to earn your trust. But please, Molly, don’t shut me out. Not now.”

Her chest ached as she listened to him, torn between wanting to believe him and wanting to protect herself. He had said all the right things, but could she trust him? Could she let herself believe that he was sincere, that this time would be different?

“You don’t degrade, mock, or be mean to people you want to be friends with,” she said thickly, her voice hoarse with emotion. She shifted her stance, trying to create some distance, some barrier between them. “I don’t need friends like that.”

“I wouldn’t want that either,” Gerry agreed quietly, his eyes never leaving hers. He wasn’t looking away, wasn’t backing down, and she wasn’t sure whether that was comforting or terrifying. “Your note meant the world to me this morning. And I liked us texting each other—please don’t shut me out. I know I’m not perfect, but I want to make this right. I want to show you who I really am. Please let me do that.”

“I saw it this morning,” she said bitterly, the words laced with more hurt than she wanted to admit, and she saw him flinch.

“You did,” he said softly, his hand reaching for hers. He tugged at her fingers gently, trying to pull her hand from her crossed arms, trying to bridge the gap between them, and she reluctantly allowed him to take it. “But if you had stayed, you would have heard the rest of it.”

“Dang it…” Molly muttered, trying not to let her curiosity show but failing miserably. “And what was that?” she said loftily, her attempt at indifference not fooling anyone, least of all herself.

She could feel her resolve cracking, her walls starting to crumble under the weight of his words, but she fought it. She wouldn’t give in so easily. Not yet.

“I told them we needed to be better,” Gerry said, his voice gentle now, almost pleading, as his hand remained wrapped around hers, pulling her closer. “We need to treat people better. I told them that calling someone names or worse wasn’t the person I wanted to be.”

Her throat tightened at his words, the raw honesty of them sinking in. She swallowed hard, the lump in her throat making it almost impossible to speak. She wanted to believe him. So badly. But the trust between them had been so fragile, and he had shattered it so quickly. She felt the weight of it in her chest, the pain of being let down by someone she had started to care about, and it made her hesitate.

“Molly?” he said softly, waiting, giving her space to process.

“You hurt me,” she breathed, her voice small and quiet, finally looking at him before quickly looking away. She hated the vulnerability in her voice, hated that he could see how much he had affected her. “I don’t deserve that.”

“You’re right,” he said, his voice low but sincere. He stepped closer, his thumb brushing over her knuckles, a silent plea for understanding.

“How can I trust that you won’t go back to your buddies and start trash-talking me again?” she whispered, the words slipping out before she could stop them. Her voice trembled slightly, and she felt foolish; like she was asking for something she didn’t think he could give. “I get it. They’re your friends. You all beat on your chests around each other, but...”

“No,” he interrupted, shaking his head. He stepped closer still, gently pulling her from the office, away from the tension, away from the walls they had built between them. “No. I don’t do that. Not anymore.”

“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice rising in protest as he pulled her through the building, tugging her toward the breakroom. “Gerry…”

“I’m doing something that I should’ve done before,” he said, his voice low and determined.

“Gerry…” she hesitated again, her heart racing, as he dragged her through the door. The surprise on her face was mirrored by the five sets of eyes that turned toward them, frozen in the act of shoveling donuts and snacks into their mouths. They looked like guilty children, caught red-handed, and for a moment, she almost felt sorry for them.

“The donuts are—” Gerry began, but then stopped, looking bewildered. Molly almost felt bad for him, realizing he had no idea about the stash they had hidden. “Guys, I need to clear the air.”

“Gerry,” Molly protested again, pulling her hand free, but he wasn’t letting go.

“I don’t want to hear Molly referred to as Beetlejuice again,” he said, his voice firm, cutting through the room. “It’s cruel. Things are different now. I’m not using her to get out of hard work, and I won’t let anyone else do it, either. She has a job to do, and so do we. Her job shouldn’t conflict with ours.”

He paused, glancing at Molly’s surprised face, before continuing, his voice soft but steady. “Work is work. Home is home. And Molly is my girlfriend. So please, keep the teasing to a minimum. She’s important to me.”

There it was.

Gerry’s words hung in the air, bold and unwavering, like a line drawn in the sand, daring anyone to cross it. The room went quiet, the weight of his declaration settling over everyone present. He wasn’t just speaking to his friends, not just protecting her in a casual, off-hand way—this was more. He was laying down the law with an intensity that she hadn’t expected. A quiet confidence that spoke volumes about his feelings. This wasn’t just about stopping the teasing. It was about them—his relationship with her—and making sure the people who mattered to him knew it, understood it, respected it. He was making it clear, not only to his friends but to himself, that this was real. That she was real. That what they had said had mattered. He was willing to stand up for it, even if it meant confronting the playful jabs and teasing of his closest friends.

Her heart fluttered at the raw sincerity in his voice, at the strength in his eyes as he said it—without hesitation, without shame. He didn’t ask for permission. He wasn’t apologizing. He was simply stating a fact. And that made her feel something deep in her chest, something warm and sweet and deeply reassuring. He wasn’t going to let anyone disrespect her or their relationship. He was drawing a line and daring anyone to cross it.

Despite the hurt she still carried from everything that had happened—the whispered doubts, the unanswered questions, the lingering resentment—there was a shi ft inside her. His words struck a chord she hadn’t known was there. She saw it in the way the team reacted.

They looked… pleased.

Her breath hitched as the realization hit her. This wasn’t just a spontaneous outburst. This had been planned. The team had deliberately pushed him, cornered him, into making this stand. Gerry, with his quiet nature and calm demeanor, had gone along with it, knowing exactly what it would mean—not just for the team, but for her . They’d created this moment and coaxed it out of him, knowing it would push him to take that final step. The step that would change everything. And most importantly, it would show her just how much he cared.

She looked around at the faces of the team, piecing together what this moment had really meant.

Batiste a fighter on the ice, but with a heart of gold hidden behind his tough exterior. He was the first to crack a smile, the first to offer a supportive nod. Gerry had earned his respect, and Batiste wasn’t afraid to show it.

Giroux, who always acted like the big brother, the glue that held everyone together. He had a way of treating each member of the team like family, making them feel as if they truly belonged. His approval was quietly visible in the way his eyes softened, a knowing look passing between him and Gerry.

Lafreniere, the one who usually kept his distance, pretending like he didn’t need anyone, didn’t need anything from anyone. But here, at this moment, he was giving Gerry the quietest of nods, acknowledging the effort, the strength, the sacrifice it took to stand up for her. He might not say much, but when it mattered, he was there.

Boucher and Coeur, the inseparable duo, are the ones who always have a sarcastic remark at the ready, their mouths as quick as their hands. They were the first to crack a joke, their teasing tone light but not malicious. They liked to poke fun, to stir the pot—but she could see something different in their eyes today. A quiet pride. They respected Gerry more than they let on, and this, whatever it was, had earned them both a deep respect for him—and for her.

These were the guys Gerry spent his days with, his teammates, his friends. The ones who knew him better than anyone. And though they were jokers and wisecrackers just like Gerry, there was a depth to them that she was only just beginning to understand. Gerry might be quieter, more reserved than the rest of them, but she could see now that his quiet nature was an anchor. He wasn’t someone who needed the spotlight. He made cracks and jokes not to perform but to make the people around him smile, to keep the mood light, and to bring the team closer together. He didn’t need a stage for his antics. He didn’t need the whole world to see. He did it for the people who mattered.

And right now, he was doing it for her .

Her chest tightened with emotion. This was bigger than any gesture, bigger than any grand declaration. This was about respect. About loyalty. About standing firm in the face of everything that had tried to tear them apart. Gerry wasn’t backing down. Not from her. Not from the team. Not from his own heart.

And in that moment, she knew, deep down, that she wasn’t just important to him. She was everything. Every part of her—her hopes, her fears, her dreams—was wrapped up in this single, overwhelming truth. The weight of it settled in her chest, pressing against her heart, filling the empty spaces she hadn’t even realized were there. No more pretending. No more doubt.

She was everything to him.

“Does anyone have any questions?”

“Nope. ”

“Bout time…”

“You be good to her…”

“Don’t smash his heart – go for the nuts first. Hurts less, ya know?”

“We’re ‘appy so long as you are ‘appy, mon frere…”

“We went on one date,” Molly interrupted, her voice catching, disbelief creeping in as she looked at the group like they’d all suddenly lost their minds.

“One date,” she repeated, feeling the weight of their expectations pressing on her chest. She couldn't understand why they looked at her as if everything had already changed, like some proclamation had been made, setting the course for the rest of their lives. It was all so sudden. So overwhelming.

“One or twenty,” Lafreniere shrugged nonchalantly. “Up to you two, but that doesn’t change the lay of the land.”

“Come,” Gerry said softly, his voice a quiet plea as he still held her hand, tugging her gently toward her office. He was leading her there almost numbly, and she could feel it, the disconnect between what had just happened and what was about to come.

What just did happen?

His declaration.

The way they’d all accepted her without hesitation; like she’d already been a part of the group all along. She wasn’t just the outsider anymore. She wasn’t the third wheel. She was... something more. Something real.

The two of them stood there in the quiet of her office, his hand still wrapped around hers, but everything felt different now. Waiting. The silence hung heavy in the air, thick with anticipation, like everything was poised to shift. Time seemed to stretch in that moment, long and uncertain, until finally, Gerry spoke.

“The cookies were for you,” he said, his voice soft but filled with a quiet intensity. “From me. They’re Italian cookies, and I wanted them to remind you of our lovely dinner.” He let the words linger between them like an offering. His gaze never wavered from hers, and she felt it deep in her bones—the care, the sincerity, the affection.

Molly swallowed, her throat tight, unsure what to say. How could she respond? What could she say when everything she’d just learned about Gerry was so overwhelming, so unexpected?

“Molly,” he said her name so gently it made her heart ache. “Would you give me another shot? Would you go out with me this weekend?” His voice was barely above a whisper now, the weight of his words pressing in on her, the vulnerability in his eyes so raw, so open. “I think you’re amazing. And if you say ‘no’ or that I blew it, I will step back and figure out another way to earn your trust someday. But I’m not giving up.”

Molly opened her mouth, but the words caught in her throat. Her heart raced, beating out a rhythm she couldn’t ignore. She wanted to say something —anything—but she was caught in the wave of emotions that swelled between them, too tangled in the moment to find her voice. He was asking for a chance. He was asking for something real.

“Gerry…” she whispered, her voice trembling, unsure if she was even saying his name or if the sound was just a prayer, a wish.

“Please?” he pleaded, his eyes searching hers, a quiet intensity that threatened to steal her breath. “I won’t give up on you. Not ever.”

And in that instant, as his touch grazed her cheek, as he waited, breathless, for her answer, Molly felt the weight of it all. The truth she’d been hiding from. The part of her that wanted to protect her heart but was terrified of missing out on something that might be worth everything.

She nodded , slowly at first, then more firmly, her heart catching in her throat. “Yes,” she said, her voice barely audible, but the feeling behind it was undeniable. “Yes.”

She was about to say something else, but before she could, his face transformed. The look in his eyes—green, brilliant, and full of joy—was like nothing she’d ever seen before. It was a look that made her feel seen , that made her feel safe . That made her heart ache with the raw emotion radiating from him. It was pure joy, but it was mixed with something deeper, something yearning. A longing that mirrored her own.

And then, without a second thought, he moved toward her, his lips finding hers in a kiss that stole her breath away. It wasn’t a soft kiss. It wasn’t tentative. It was full of everything he had—everything he felt for her. But before she could even react fully, she pulled away from him, her hands still resting on his chest as she took a shaky breath.

“Don’t you think we should wait? Or maybe slow down?” she asked, her voice trembling, unsure of the words even as they spilled out. “We need to see if this even goes anywhere, right? I mean, it could all fall apart. We could end up in some terrible breakup or… or just ruin everything.”

Gerry’s expression softened, his gaze intense but filled with tenderness. He touched her cheek again gently, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw. “I’m not giving up,” he said quietly but with such conviction that it made her heart twist. “Not ever. I know where I want to be. And you are welcome to take as long as you need, Molly. I’m not going anywhere.”

His words lingered in the air, a quiet promise that wrapped around them like a gentle embrace, leaving room for her to breathe, to think, to decide. He was offering her time, patience, and love without conditions, a love that would wait for her to be ready. He was giving her the space she needed to figure out what this could be, even if it meant standing there, hoping with everything he had.

And in tha t moment, something shifted within her—just as she knew she was everything to him, she realized he was becoming everything to her. What had started as a simple crush on a guy at work had quietly, almost imperceptibly, grown into something deeper, something more. She wasn’t just standing on the edge anymore. She was teetering, knowing that the fall wouldn’t be easy because of their jobs—but maybe, just maybe, she was ready to consider what that could look like in the future.

“We can take a slow as you need,” he breathed softly, his thumb caressing her cheek. “So are you free this weekend, my beauty?”

My beauty?

He called her ‘My beauty’? Ohhh man.

Hook. Line. And sinker… yeah, I’m free, she thought.

“Yes.”

T hat night, Molly sat cross-legged on her bed, her room softly illuminated by the golden glow of her bedside lamp. A mug of tea sat untouched on the nightstand as she fiddled with the edge of her blanket, phone pressed to her ear. Her thoughts felt like a chaotic whirlwind, and there was only one person she could unravel them with—her mother. The familiar warmth of her voice always had a way of calming Molly's stormy emotions.

As soon as her mom answered, Molly didn’t hold back.

“Mom, why are relationships so difficult to understand sometimes?” she blurted out, her voice tinged with frustration. “I mean, one second he can be so sweet and nice—and the next your backbone, which is supposed to be made of sterner stuff, is actually Jell-O. And he betrayed me – but ooooh no! All he has to do is look at you sweetly, toss a few compliments, and somehow I just drool and fawn like some obsessed teenager…”

She let out an exasperated sigh, only to hear her mother’s knowing laughter on the other end of the line. It wasn’t mocking but filled with the kind of seasoned wisdom that Molly both loved and found maddening.

“Soooo, what’s his name?” her mother asked, her tone teasing yet curious.

“Gerard Thierry,” Molly admitted, her voice softening. “But he goes by Gerry.”

“One of the players?” her mother said sharply, her concern palpable even through the phone. Molly could picture her mother’s eyebrows knitting together, the familiar maternal warning about to drop. “Is this why you left the message the other night? Honey, how many times have I told you?—”

“You don’t eat where you shop,” Molly interjected dutifully, rolling her eyes though her lips curved into a small smile. Her mother’s advice was practically a mantra by now. She hesitated for a moment, her voice dipping into something more thoughtful. “This is different.”

“Aren’t they all,” her mom quipped, not missing a beat.

“No, seriously, Mom—this wasn’t something I was looking for. Neither of us was,” Molly insisted, her words coming out in a rush. “I knew to keep things professional, and he wasn’t interested either…”

“Then what happened?” her mother pressed, her curiosity piqued.

Molly exhaled, her mind flashing back to that pivotal moment. “I’m not sure,” she admitted softly. “I mean, he came into my office, we talked, and then… next thing I knew, we were going to dinner. He was so sweet, so different. And then—he kissed me.”

“You kissed this guy you work with on the first date?” her mom asked, her voice balancing disbelief and intrigue.

“Mom, le t me tell you—it’s intense,” Molly said, her cheeks flushing as she fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve.

“Sometimes it is,” her mom replied, her tone understanding.

“When he looks at me…” Molly’s voice faltered, and she felt a lump rise in her throat. She hated how vulnerable she felt admitting this, even to her mother. “I don’t feel like the short, shy girl who always got overlooked. I feel like he sees me—really sees me—and likes what he sees.”

“Molly, honey, that is how it’s supposed to be,” her mother said gently, her words like a warm embrace.

“It’s never been like that when I’ve dated someone,” Molly confessed, her thoughts spilling out faster now. “It’s always been questions, confusion… but this guy?—”

“Honey,” her mother interjected, her voice soft yet firm. “You just finished telling me that you felt betrayed…”

“I did—but then…” Molly trailed off, a wry smile tugging at her lips as she remembered the moment. “They did this thing where they all banded together, standing behind Gerry, and he was like, ‘This is my girl.’ And I was like, ‘Noooo, you hurt my feelings,’ but then he was like, ‘Yeah, you’re mine,’ and I was like, ‘Yeah, I am.’”

She let out a groan, burying her face in her hands. “Oh my gosh, I sound like I’m ten years old.”

Her mother burst out laughing, the sound full of affection. “I’m like, you’re like…” she teased, mimicking Molly’s tone playfully. “I can honestly say that you’ve never been at a loss for words before, honey. Just take things slowly and see where they go.”

Molly bit her lip, her voice quieter now. “Am I crazy for liking him?”

“Isn’t love a little crazy?” her mother replied, the warmth in her tone wrapping around Molly like a hug.

“I never said I was in love with him,” Molly protested weakly.

“Sure, honey,” her mom said, the hint of a smirk audible even through the phone.

“Mom…” Molly groaned, but there was no real annoyance in her voice.

“Just be careful and let him show you what kind of man he is,” her mother advised, her tone serious again.

“I will,” Molly promised, clutching the phone tightly as if her mother’s words could anchor her. “I promise.”