Love Like Wildfire

Chp. VIII

     4 days before New Year's Eve...

   Mollie really wasn't fit to sleep alone. Even as a child, when she was feelingly particularly restless, she was always able to slip into one of her sister's beds. Her parents really wanted her to be able to sleep on her own, and she could, but she just didn't prefer it that way. It was nice to be able to have someone asleep beside you, to share their warmth and comfort. Even something, which was partially the reason why she found Alfie when she was first living alone. Not to mention he was an adorable poodle puppy and looked at her with his sad dark eyes. She was a goner from the start. And now, she was back to snuggling up with him, especially since Jordan had yet to come home nearly three weeks ago.

   Alfie licking her face was what eventually got her to wake up.

   "Oy," she muttered, registering the dog's slobber on her cheek and turning her face into her pillow, to wipe it off and to hopefully fall back asleep. Alfie only turned his affections to her ear, which really woke her up. With a giggle, she turned back over, scooping the little pup in the air beneath the arms and watching in bemusement as he tried and failed to bite at her wrists. "You silly little man," she cooed. Sitting up, she cradled him against her chest, calming him instantly. It was an action she had done since the day she brought him home and it was enough to calm him down, reminding him of feeling protected and loved. "I'm hungry, too," she admitted, swinging her legs around and standing up from bed. No matter how much she felt like not getting up these days, even Alfie was enough of a reason to get up and shower and be productive.

   Downstairs, Mollie couldn't help herself but take a step into the living room. Disappointment sunk in her like molten lead. The couch was in perfect condition, the throw blanket folded over the back, and the cushions without the indention of someone having slept there for the night. Whenever they got into fights, Jordan would sleep downstairs on the couch, because he was decent enough to never boot Mollie out of bed instead. But now, he had yet to take even take a step inside their house, let alone sleep on the unused couch, and she turned away, twisting her lips instead of scowling. It wasn't like her to be sad, and she hated scowling. It gave you wrinkles.

   In the kitchen, she filled Alfie's bowls and decided she wasn't much in the mood to try her hand at cooking. Taking a couple pieces of bread and sticking them in the toaster, she leaned a hip against the counter, twirling a bit of her blonde ponytail around her finger as she waited. Crystal blue eyes shifted to the shiny panel of the stove, where though distorted, she once again saw the faintest red line where one could suppose her cheek was on the reflection. Taking her hand slowly from her hair, she traced a single finger across the rough inch and a half but healing gash on her cheek. It was practically vertical, slightly off-centered and beneath her left eye. She couldn't feel herself touching her cheek unless she added more pressure and she more than often tried to ignore it, because thinking about it only lead to thinking about how she got it and—

   The toaster surprised her as it popped her toast. The kind of flinch she gave was one that didn't exactly come from being scared of a toaster... but she ignored the sound of shattering glass echoing in the back of her mind and reached up to take a plate down to place her toast on and get about spreading butter and jam across. Pouring herself a glass of orange juice as well, she sat herself at the island counter and had breakfast in silence. Alfie finished and curled himself up on his bed in the living room, ready for a noon nap. Mollie thought the idea wasn't half-bad. Finishing up, she brought her plate and glass back to the sink, and instead of leaving them, she went about washing and putting them away again... just to be productive. There wasn't much else to be done.

   If she really wanted to do something, she could call her family and thank them for the Christmas presents. It was Friday, two days after, and she had decided to spend Christmas at home and evidently alone because she thought that maybe, just maybe, Jordan would return and they could talk it out and have a nice holiday together. Her mother was a bit sore at not being able to see her youngest daughter but they had spent an entire week together for Thanksgiving, in which on Christmas day, her mother had called and talked about how lovely it was to have seen her and Frankie and that Frankie really was a wonderful girl and that they all liked her. If Mollie was being honest... it sounded like her family was saying that they approved of Frankie. For whatever reason. It was odd to say the least and Mollie thanked them profusely, hoping that she wouldn't end up crying on the phone in front of them.