"I'm not him," I say again.
She nods once. "I know." Two words. But they feel bigger than anything else tonight. The front door opens again slightly. Her dad. Watching. Assessing. That's fine. Let him. I don't need instant approval.
I just need time. Time to prove. Time to show up through the front door instead of climbing through ceilings. Time to build something that isn't built on secrecy.
"I should go," I say finally.
She nods. But neither of us moves right away. There's still tension between us.
This is the part no one talks about. And what's left is choice. Do we step forward? Or step back?
"I'll come tomorrow," I say.
"Through the front door," she replies. A small smile. There it is.
I turn and walk toward my the sidewalk. The night feels heavier now. But clearer. For the first time in a long time, I'm not hiding. And if I want a future that doesn't look like my father's past… This is where it starts.
(Molly's POV)
Stella walks into my room like she pays rent. She drops her bag on my chair and looks at me the way doctors look at patients before delivering bad news.
"You've been quiet," she says.
"I happy you can observe."
She ignores that and sits on my bed. "Jason." A diagnosis. I'm sitting by the window, watching the street like it's a live show. Mrs. Lynn is arguing with her husband again. Same time, same volume but very predictable.
"I didn't know you were psychic," I say.
"I don't need to be. You get that look."
"What look?"
"The 'I'm thinking too much but pretending I'm not' look." I glance at her. She's not wrong. I hate that she's not wrong.
"His dad," I say finally. There. It's out.
Stella leans back against my headboard. "Yeah, I heard that." That's the thing about Stella. She doesn't gasp. She doesn't overreact like others. She lets silence do the work.
"He says he's not like him," I add.
"And?"
"And nothing." I turn from the window and sit across from her on the bed. I'm calm and I don't think there's any need not to. I don't do dramatic pacing.
"He doesn't care when people whisper," I say. "He just… lives his life quiet. Like, y'know, he's calculating something."
Stella tilts her head. "Calculating what?"
"I don't know, whether it's worth responding?" I think I've seen him do it once. He did not defend himself immediately. He walked away. I think he measured the room. Then he decided.
That's not his father's reputation talking. That's him.
"You trust him?" Stella asks.
"I think so." The answer comes too easily like without hesitation. She notices. Of course she does.
"But?" she presses.
I sigh. "But people don't just wake up one day and become 'not like their parents.' Something had to shape him."
"And that scares you."
"No." I pause. "It interests me." That's the truth. I'm not scared of Jason. I used to. I'm curious about him. There's a difference. Stella studies me like I'm the subject now.
"You're not worried he'll turn out like his dad?"
"If he wanted to," I say calmly, "he would have already." She blinks.
I shrug. "He has opportunities. He has connections. He avoids them." I've noticed that too.
He changes routes sometimes. Doesn't hang around certain people. Cuts conversations short when they drift somewhere ugly.
He thinks no one sees it. Well he is wrong cause I do see it. Sometimes.
"So what's the problem?" Stella asks.
I look down at my hands.
"The problem," I say slowly, "is that he's trying too hard to prove he's different."
"And?"
"And people who try too hard usually feel like they have something to outrun."
Silence.
Stella leans forward now. "You think he's hiding something."
"I think," I correct calmly, "that everyone hides something like you, me, mom, dad, everyone."
She exhales through her nose. "You're impossible but smart."
"Thank you."
She smiles and it reaches her eyes. "So what are you going to do? Interrogate him?"
"What? No." That's definitely not me. "I'll wait."
"For what?"
"For him to tell me."
Stella stares at me like I just announced I'm joining a cult.
"You're just going to sit there and act normal?"
"Yes."
"That's insane."
"I'm insane," I say lightly. "It's patient."
If Jason isn't like his father, he won't run from difficult conversations.
He'll come to me. And if he doesn't? Then that tells me something too.
Stella stands up. "You're scary calm about this."
I smile slightly.
"I don't panic over hypotheticals."
She walks toward the door, shaking her head. "You like him too much."
"No I don't," I correct.
When she leaves, I pick up my phone. Jason's name sits there. I don't call him. If he's fighting his father's shadow, I won't become another person chasing him with it.
He said he's not like him. I believe him.
But belief isn't blindness. And I don't miss details. I exit the call app and do my usual routine, check up the news and the scroll through Instagram.
But something hits me and it's different. If Jason said that his father has changed, then why are there cases of manslaughter and kidnapping?
Moreover, it's starting to spread without having a break. This is a case, a huge one.
I go downstairs and find my parents sitting there, watching a movie. "Hey mom, hey dad." Their heads snap in my direction.
"Molly, we need to talk." Dad says. I should've expected this. I walk to the couch opposite them and sit on it. Molly, you know we have the best interest for you, right?"
I nod. All parents do." I know dad and I appreciate that."
"Then you should know that what you did was really disappointing. You letting the son of an ex convict into the house, especially now that there are cases of murder and stuff like."
"Daf I know this."