Caged Collection (Sixth Street Bands #1-5), page 27
“Like a project,” she replied in the same dull monotone. “Always checking my food, or reminding me to take my shot. Eventually, he wouldn’t even touch me.” She chuckled, then looked down at her hands. “Unless it was to test my sugar.”
“I would never—”
Mel’s eyes met mine, resignation darkening the brilliant jade hue of her irises.
“Yes, you will. You already did.” She took a deep breath to fortify her reserves, and then continued, “I try to go about my life and act like everything’s fine. Like I’m normal. I tried to be normal last night. To prove to you that I could fit in.” She wobbled to her feet. “But I guess I can’t. And I don’t want to be that girl.”
I took her hand before she did something stupid, like bolt. “What girl?”
Brows drawn inward, she gazed at our entwined digits. “The girl I’ve always been—the sick girl.” Peering up at me, a watery smile curved her lips. “When I was twelve, I spent an entire week in the hospital after a slumber party. A stupid slumber party where I ate too much ice cream and pigged out on gummy bears.”
“Why would—?”
“Because I wanted to be like everyone else.” She frowned at the admission. “When I was really young, I used to skip my shots every now and then, just to see if I was cured.”
“You were a kid. Kids do stupid shit.” I managed to chuckle over the dry lump in my throat. “If it makes you feel any better, I once calculated the wind current and jumped out of a second story window with some wings I made out of a tarp.” I lifted my arm. “Broke my ulna. Bone came right through the skin.”
Running her fingertip along the raised edges of the scar, she murmured, “But you healed and I never will.” A tear slid down her cheek and landed on my skin, burning straight through to my bone marrow. “I didn’t think . . . I mean . . . I thought you and me, we’d have some fun, and that would be that.”
“You’re not having fun?” I leaned in low, searching for her eyes. “I’m having fun.”
She pinned me with her jade green gaze.
“Were you having fun last night?” she asked, her bottom lip quivering. “Did you enjoy getting on your iPad to see if I was going to have some kind of seizure?”
“You saw that?”
She rolled her eyes. “I was drunk, not blind. Although, prolonged abuse of alcohol in diabetics can lead to blindness.”
Throwing in that fun fact, she slipped her hand from mine and then shuffled to the dining room table to gather her books.
“I was a fucking idiot, Mel.” I stole behind her, pressing my chest to her back. “I was worried for nothing. I know that now.”
She spun around, leveling her most serious gaze on me. “About the alcohol, maybe. But there are other things. I didn’t exactly win the genetic lottery. What if I get sick—really sick?” She swallowed hard, fighting the tears welling in her eyes. “That might put a kink in things, don’t you think?”
When I didn’t answer, she turned and continued to shove her books into her backpack. “I know I told you I don’t believe in love. But that’s not exactly true. What I don’t believe in is happily ever afters. Not for myself, at least.”
Pushing me out of the way, she returned to the breakfast bar and then finished packing her clothes. I followed, as if my feet had a mind of their own.
“What are you saying, Mel?”
Hoisting the tote over her shoulder, she shifted away from me.
“That you’re a sweet guy. I didn’t expect you to be a sweet guy. I didn’t expect . . . hell, I didn’t expect anything, Christian. It’s time to stop pretending this is anything more than it is, so you can get back to your life.”
“What do you mean: get back to my life?” Prickling at her suggestion, I added sarcastically. “I’ve been living my life, baby. In case you haven’t noticed.”
Mel’s eyes raked me over like we just met. Like I was the guy in the picture hanging on the wall at the burger joint where she used to work.
“What about the parties and the clubs? All the things you used to do instead of hanging out at the library.”
Before Mel, clubs and parties were the diversion. A place to go instead of the library. But even if I told her all the things spinning around in my head, the way I felt this very moment, it wouldn’t stop the inevitable. Someday soon, when my feelings faded, I’d hurt her. Much worse than she was hurting now.
Shoving my hands deep in my pockets, my fingers grazed the silver fob. Hooking my thumb in the ring, I pulled her key from its hiding place.
“I guess you’re right, angel,” I said thickly, pressing the small piece of metal into her palm. “I can’t hide out in the library forever.” The lie tumbled out with surprising ease. “Good luck with everything.”
I’ll miss you.
Biting my tongue, I took a step back, adopting a casual posture while Mel stared down at the key in her hand. When she finally met my gaze, I braced myself for whatever she was going to say.
Lay it on me, angel. I deserve it.
Though I knew I was doing all this for her own good, I still felt like shit. I wanted Mel to rage at me, kick my ass for letting her go. But instead she rushed forward, her body molding to mine like she owned it.
Cupping my face in her small hands, she smiled, tears streaming down her face unchecked. “Good luck to you too, rock star.”
And then she was gone, her Chucks squeaking against the tile floor as she bounded down the hall.
When the door clicked shut behind her, I waited for the relief. I spent a good minute just standing there, expecting the sky to open up and sunshine to warm my face.
But the farther away Mel got, the colder I felt.
I sprinted for the door, chasing something I had no right to chase.
“Mel, wait a minute!” I yelled, stumbling onto the porch.
The whine of her engine drowned out my voice as I hurried down the stone steps. I made it to the curb in time to see her pull out of the driveway.
With a lump the size of a boulder lodged in my throat it was hard to get the words out. But I managed.
“I love you.”
It wasn’t a scream to the heavens. Just a tiny stitch in time. Today, I loved her. That was the truth. As fleeting as the feeling might be, Melody deserved the words, even if she couldn’t hear them. She also deserved a man who’d be able to say them without wincing.
Shoving my hands in my pockets to ward off the chill that slithered over my skin, I headed up the path, leaves crumbling under my feet.
In a couple of weeks, winter would descend and sweep away the fall, along with the girl that smelled like autumn. Logic told me it was true. But the invisible fingers wrapped around my heart gave me pause. In reality I knew they didn’t exist, any more than the notion that love was a permanent state of mind.
But if that were the case, why couldn’t I breathe?
15
As I waited in the dressing room for the rest of the band, I gingerly opened the white envelope with the burnt orange seal in the corner. In the seven days since Mel had walked out of my life, I’d avoided anything that might disrupt the scab on the wound she left behind.
Since I’d also given up checking my email, going to the library, and showering unless completely necessary, I didn’t find the invitation for her graduation until this morning.
The event was taking place tonight at the Erwin Center, but I already knew that.
Pulling the heavy parchment from the envelope, I ran a finger over the embossed school seal featured proudly at the bottom.
The cushions sank under Cameron’s weight as he plopped on the couch next to me.
“What’s that?” He propped his feet on the worn table before snatching the invitation from my grasp. Glancing over the loopy inscription, he smiled. “Impressive. Does this mean you’re going?”
“We’re not seeing each other anymore,” I snapped, plucking the card from his hand. “Why the hell would I go?”
“Dude, stop being so defensive. I just thought you were into the chick. My bad.”
“I was.” I am. “She’s the one that broke it off.”
“That’s probably the best thing,” he eyed me suspiciously, “since you let her.”
Sliding a hand through my greasy hair, I gripped the strands at the base of my neck. “I didn’t ‘let her’ do anything. If a girl wants to jet, it’s her choice.”
“Keep telling yourself that, bro.” Cameron chuckled. “We’ll see how it works out for you.”
It took all my restraint not to wring his neck. A few months ago, Cameron would’ve been urging me to join him at a strip club to get over this little bump in the road. Not encouraging me to prolong the agony.
“Let me ask you something, Dr. Phil,” I said dryly. “Have you ever thought about what’s going to happen when something goes south with Lily?”
The motherfucker chuckled. He actually laughed.
“When? That’s mighty cynical.” He patted my knee. “But, no, I don’t think about that. It’s not going to happen.”
“Today—it’s not going to happen today.”
I shook my head. Reasoning with people like Cameron never got me very far, but hey, I was willing to try.
Crossing my arms over my chest, I let out a sigh and then began, “Over fifty percent of marriages end in divorce. And I’d venture to say the other fifty percent are just like my parents. They stay together out of habit. We’re not even talking about people just casually dating, so—”
“Is that what y’all were . . . casual?” Cameron cocked his head, truly interested in my response.
Mel and I spent every day together. Casual wasn’t a word I’d use. “No, we weren’t casual, but—”
“‘But’ nothing.” His hazel eyes darkened with irritation. “I’ve heard all your statistics and bullshit theories.” I raised a brow and he softened. “Let’s say it’s all true. Every word of it. I still want you to think about one thing.”
Tamping down my exasperation, I waited for whatever inane argument Cameron was about to make.
“Have you ever thought about how many bands out there—good bands—struggle to get a song on the charts?” he asked, a smug smile curving his lips. “Millions.”
Rolling my eyes, I wondered where the train went off the tracks.
“What’s your fucking point, Cameron?”
Please, God, let there be one.
“We did it.” Gazing around at the framed magazine covers and other accolades, Cameron shrugged, and then turned that smug smile back in my direction. “That one in a million thing? Ain’t no step for a stepper. You just gotta believe.”
Some of Lily’s brainpower must’ve rubbed off on the dude, because he was actually making sense. Either that, or I was grasping at straws.
When Cameron arched a brow, waiting for my response, I conceded, “Well, yeah, I guess we did.”
“So if that’s the case,” he continued, settling back against the cushions. “What makes you so fucking sure you can’t make a go of it with Mel?”
“I didn’t say we couldn’t make it. I said the odds—”
Cameron rolled his eyes in exasperation. “What the fuck do the odds have to do with it? Even if the odds were ninety percent that Lily and I would blow up, I’d take the bet. You know why?” I shook my head, even though I suspected I already knew what he was going to say. “Because one day with Lily is worth the price. Even if you told me there were a thousand days of misery in my future, I’d take those twenty-four hours.”
I blanched inwardly when I thought about the last seven days. If I had to endure a thousand more, I wouldn’t make it.
“That’s you,” I said quietly. “This time next month, I won’t even remember what she looked like.”
Cameron studied my lying face for a moment before slowly rising from his seat. “Well, there you go.” He leaned down to pat my shoulder, a smirk tilting his lips. “What’s her name is obviously not the right chick for you or it wouldn’t be that easy.”
“Her name is Melody,” I grumbled. “And there is no ‘right chick’ for anyone.”
“Whatever you say.”
With a skeptical eye, I watched Cameron stroll to the fridge, looking for any chinks in his armor. Any sign that he was fooling himself. I mean, the guy used to bang groupies two at a time and party his face off until dawn almost every night.
“Do you miss it?” I blurted, regretting the question when he spun around with that carefree smile.
“Miss what?”
“Everything. The parties, the clubs.” I raised a brow. “The threesomes.”
He barked out a laugh. “Have you seen my girl? Fuck, dude, there’s nothing to miss. I got it all.”
Closing my eyes I let my head fall to the back of the couch. Cameron reclaimed his seat and then knocked me with his elbow. “You want some Chinese? I’m placing an order.”
My stomach turned at the thought of food. “I’m good.”
And now I was flat out lying. I wasn’t close to being good. I hadn’t had an hour of good in seven days.
The door swung open and I threw my arm over my face, hoping whoever it was would leave me alone until rehearsal.
I jerked, my eyes popping open when a boot met my shin.
Chase Noble, Cameron’s brother, stood over us, glaring. I’m assuming from the way Cameron was rubbing his leg, his shin got the same treatment.
“This place gets filthier every time I come in here,” Chase complained. “The cleaning crew is starting to complain. Get off your asses and grab a trashcan.”
Since Chase owned the club, and was technically our boss, his look of reproach should’ve carried more weight. But I’d known the guy since I was fifteen.
Reluctantly, Cameron and I pushed to our feet and began to tidy up, while Chase took a seat at the desk in the corner.
“Did the band ever agree on which charity they wanted to sponsor for the Christmas event?” he asked offhandedly as he sorted through some mail.
Cameron examined the contents of a pizza box, grimacing. “Just so long as it’s not breast cancer again. We don’t need to give Logan another opportunity to provide his ‘free examinations.’”
Chase leaned back in the rickety chair, crossing his long legs at the ankle.
“We raised fifty grand that night,” he said, leveling a wry smile in Cameron’s direction. “And those ‘exams’ Logan offered? They weren’t free. The women all contributed a sizable donation to participate.”
Cameron wrinkled his nose. “So you don’t care if Logan gropes women for money?”
Chase laughed. “Before Lily, you fondled plenty of women. And the only cause you were worried about was your own. Logan’s idea was actually—”
“Totally self-serving,” Cameron retorted.
While the brothers debated the merit of Logan’s fundraising abilities, I ambled over to the desk. Picking up the flyer, I scanned the list of charities, my eyes flickering over the seal for the American Diabetes Association.
I nudged the chair to get Chase’s attention. “Does the charity have to be on this list?”
“No. Those are just a few of the more reputable organizations.” He laced his fingers behind his head, appraising me. “Why? You got something better in mind?”
“I might.” I folded the flyer and then tucked it away in my back pocket. “How long did you say we have to decide?
“A couple days, give or take.”
“I’ll let you know.” Grabbing my backpack, I headed for the door. “Don’t commit to anything before I get back to you.”
In the parking lot, I slid behind the wheel of my truck and then pulled out my phone. I scrolled through the list of contacts from Mel’s study group, frowning when I came upon the name I was looking for.
My finger hovered over the text icon, but instead, I swallowed my pride and placed the call.
“Mitchell, this is Christian.” Without waiting for a reply, I added, “Don’t hang up. I need to talk to you about a fundraising event.”
Standing in the shadows in the back of the Erwin Center, I waited for an hour while graduates walked the stage to collect their diplomas.
When the dean got to the “S’s,” I made my way down the outer aisle, heading for the tiny figure in the wheelchair two rows from the front.
As each name echoed in the auditorium, a chorus of cheers resounded from the audience. My heart sank when I knelt beside Mel’s nana and saw the look of anticipation in her eyes, knowing she couldn’t voice her pride.
“Mo.” I tapped her shoulder. “It’s Christian, Melody’s friend.” I maneuvered in front of her, careful not to block the stage. Though her face bore no emotion, the smile in her eyes warmed my insides. “Look, I just wanted to—”
The woman seated to Mo’s right leaned forward, her features cloaked under the dim lights. “Can I help you?”
“I’m a friend of Melody’s.” I took a small blue box from the pocket of my jacket. “I’m just here to drop off a gift. It’s actually from Mo. I picked it out, though.”
“And you are?” Curiosity piqued the woman’s tone.
“Christian.” I smiled tightly at the couple in front of us who’d twisted in their seat to offer me an admonishing glare. “I’m not staying.”
I gave the caregiver a polite nod before placing the tiny box on the blanket covering Mo’s lap. “Give this to Mel for me, will you?”
Mo’s green eyes locked on mine, and she blinked twice. I patted her hand as I stood.
My feet grew roots when I caught sight of Mel on the stage in her cap and gown.
I thought of holding my ground, standing proud so she’d know I was there.
Instead, I shrank against the wall and held my breath. Hearing her name, I let out a whoop and clapped loud enough to drown out the smattering of perfunctory applause from the strangers.
Mel took her diploma, her gaze flitting over the crowd.
I’m here, angel.
She didn’t notice me lurking, but the brilliant smile that lit her face when she found her nana was worth the price of admission, even though I could feel my chest constricting with every breath. It was like she was stealing my air, tucking it away with everything else she took when she left.
