All That Really Matters by Nicole Deese (new books to read TXT) 📕

given back to me. No platform to livestream The Event auction from, no voice to ask my followers for pledges, no brand to secure credibility and partnerships.” She swiped at her cheeks. “By the time Ethan’s email hits tomorrow morning, all the pledges I’ve secured from my sponsors will likely be revoked, and there’s nothing I can do about it. Just like there’s nothing I can do about the scholarship we’ve lost. If I had a month to regroup then maybe. But days?” She shook her head, more tears streaming down her cheeks. “We won’t even have enough funds to cover the rental costs for The Event, much less bring in the five hundred thousand we need to be matched by the Murphey Grant.”

I advanced, unwilling to stay frozen in place for another second. “That’s what you’re most worried about? The Event? The grant?” Certainly, they each held a spot on a long list of fallouts to be dealt with in short order, but they hardly took first place. In my mind, that spot belonged solely to Molly’s career. Her reputation as a trusted voice in her industry had just been ransacked by a greedy manipulator.

“Of course that’s what I’m worried about most.” She reached for the envelope in my hand and tossed it to the couch as if it didn’t represent hundreds of thousands of dollars and multiple years of network building and experience. “I can’t change how I started my business or who I chose to partner with, but those aren’t the decisions that will keep me awake at night. Breaking my promise to you and to our residents will. You counted on me and I . . . I failed you all.”

No longer concerned about the uninvited eyes and ears that might be watching or hearing us, I wrapped her into an embrace. “You didn’t fail us.” I pressed my forehead to the side of her head, my lips skimming her cheek as I spoke. “This old manor would be as empty as I would be without you.”

She lifted her head, her eyes unblinking as she took me in. “I wish I could fix this. For you as much as for the residents. I’m so, so sorry.”

“I don’t want you to be sorry. I only want you to understand . . .” I stopped, then realized I couldn’t wait another day or even another minute to tell her the truth that had burned a hole in my chest for weeks. “I love you, Molly. Not for the promises you intended to keep or for the things your platform could have provided, but for you. For who you are right now.”

She stared at me and then shook her head. “Silas, I just lost your chance at a million dollars.”

“I love you.” I spoke the words again, relief intermixed with conviction. There were so many solutions we didn’t have, and yet, this was one answer I knew for certain.

Her pained features morphed into a look I couldn’t quite identify. “But love shouldn’t be forced to live in our disappointments and loss.”

“It’s not forced to live there—it chooses to.” I framed her face in my hands. “Love lives in the hard places with us because that’s what sets it apart. That’s what makes it love.”

“I love you, Silas.” Tears slipped from the corners of her eyes. “I’ll never be able to deserve you, but I love you just the same. So, so much.” Her lips curved into a smile so sweet I had no choice but to press my lips to hers, if only for an instant. But as I drew back, she whispered, “And maybe that’s exactly why this all hurts so deeply.”

I nodded, pulling her close again, her meaning as clear as it was true. Even through the elation and hope we’d found in each other, our grief over what had been lost remained.

We stood there together, arms wrapped around each other, until our breaths became as quiet as our unspoken thoughts.

“How do I tell them?” she asked softly. “How do I tell the residents that everything we’ve worked so hard for this summer is canceled—the Dream Big Scholarship, The Event, the Murphey Grant, the expansion project. All of it lost.”

“We’ll tell them together.” I ran my palm down the back of her head, her neck, her tensed shoulders. “Circumstances change, Molly. These kids know that better than most. There will be other years.”

“Not for them.”

Because none of them would be here in another five years for us to try again for the Murphey Grant.

“I know.” I pulled her close as defeat pressed heavy against us both. “I know.”

37

Molly

Of the many times I’d been inside the fireside room this summer, listening to weekly highs and lows while eating gooey cookies made by Glo’s bakers-in-training, last night’s impromptu meeting was the first that had not been met with empathetic smiles and whoops of delight. Instead, it was as if the room’s normal energy had been dialed back completely, leaving nothing but a lifeless tomb in its place.

Silas had insisted on taking the brunt of their questions, sparing me from the rising emotion I’d fought to choke down while he explained why The Event had to be canceled. Why their hard work on the grounds, in the kitchen, and in making and gathering auction items no longer had a purpose. How the expansion would now become a goal earmarked for an undetermined year in the future. For an undetermined group of residents who likely would have no connection to any of them.

As Silas had spoken to them in a patient tenor that could calm even the most chaotic of storms, I’d steadied my gaze on the framed blueprints above the unlit fireplace, the ones Jake had gifted the house out of hope for his brother’s vision. A vision nearly as heartbreaking as the tears that had slid down Monica’s rounded cheeks and the slumped shoulders Devon had tried to shrug off once he realized the songs he’d been rehearsing on his