by Shandi Boyes
“Tell me you love me, Melly.”
I accept the glass of water from Fetu and place it onto the bedside table before cupping Julian’s cheek. “I do love you. I love you very much.” I’m not lying. I do love him. I just don’t deserve him. “We’ll talk more in the morning, okay?” When he nods, I wipe away the tear rolling down my cheek before pulling the comforter up to cover him.
In faster than a heartbeat, I’ve switched off the light and partially closed his door, and even quicker than that, Brandon heads for the exit, his brisk strides only slowing when I whisper, “He knows we kissed, doesn’t he?”
With his back facing me, and his shoulders low, Brandon nods.
“Did you tell him?” It’s pathetic of me to try and shunt some of the blame onto a third party, but it seems to be my go-to party trick lately. I could use the excuse that a burden shared is a burden halved, but that isn’t the case here. I’m just too weak to carry the load alone.
My father would be so disappointed.
When Brandon pivots around to face me, even Fetu feels the frustration radiating out of him. He places himself between us like Brandon is a threat to my safety. He isn’t but only because his words are more damaging than his fists could ever be.
“Why would I tell him, Melody? So he could experience the pain I did seven years ago? I assumed you thought better of me. Clearly, I’m not the only one who had a major shift in personality when we merged into the real world.”
After requesting for Fetu to leave and watching his hesitant exit, I devote all my attention to Brandon. This argument has been years in the making, and I’m reasonably sure it will be a doozy, so I’d rather it occur without witnesses. “You’re not being fair.”
“And neither are you,” Brandon fires back, fighting the urge to shout. “Do you have any idea how hard that was for me to hear?” He thrusts his hand toward the room running water is sounding from. Julian must be hoping a hot shower will sober him up. “It killed me hearing it from him, but no, that’s not enough punishment for you, Brandon. You kissed another man’s girl, so you don’t just get to hear him gush about how she’s going to be his wife. You get to hear the woman you love tell another man she loves him. That’s fucked, Melody. That is so fucked.”
I barely get a second to get over the shock he still loves me when he confesses, “We had a great chat during our elevator ride. Julian was telling me all the things I had missed out on…” his nostrils flare as he growls, “… such as your wedding date being brought forward to next month.”
When I balk but remain quiet, Brandon reads the truth from my eyes. It doubles the anger in his before it adds a frantic tick to his jaw. Julian and I were planning to get married next year, but Julian requested for us to bring the wedding forward earlier this week. I thought he meant by six or so months. I had no clue he wanted it so soon. Since I was still shocked at how complex my life has become the past few weeks, and feeling somewhat guilty about my recent contact with Brandon, I agreed to Julian’s request.
My heart falls from my ribcage when Brandon asks, “Is every guest getting a last-minute invitation? Or did you just happen to lose mine as quickly as you fell out of love with me?”
“I didn’t lie when I said I love you. You’re a part of my life, BJ. You always will be.”
Disbelief flashes through his eyes when he asks, “Then why did you move across the country without me? Why did you cheat on me?” Nothing but pain is heard in his voice when he mutters, “And why did you agree to marry him? That wasn’t the plan, Melody. He was never in our plans.”
“You don’t know what it was like for me. I was alone. I didn’t have anyone.”
“Because you never gave me the chance to be there for you. You ran. You lied. You gave up on us—”
“For you!” I shout as devastation overwhelms me. “I did that for you.”
“I didn’t want it!” Brandon’s roar shudders my heart out of my chest. “I didn’t want any of that.” He bangs his chest as he takes two steps closer to me. “I wanted you. I always wanted you.” His eyes are as wet as mine when he says, “But the one time I needed you, you weren’t there for me. You left… as I am now.” After throwing open the suite door, he cranks his neck back my way. “Have a nice life, Melody. I hope he gives you everything I couldn’t.”
Confident I’ll never see him again if I let him leave, I whisper, “You promised to protect me for eternity.”
I realize I’ve lost him forever when he mutters, “That stopped being my job when you broke the vows we recited to each other eighteen years ago.”
22
Brandon
I swirl the dregs of a double shot of whiskey around the bottom of my glass. It’s my sixth the past hour, a new record for me. I could have driven home, but I needed something to take the edge off. The location where my brother was murdered isn’t the ideal spot for that to take place.
I also can’t bring myself to leave. I don’t know why. It could be because I don’t want to drive back in the darkness of the night when the lie I told Melody gets the better of me. Or perhaps it’s because my lie is already eating at me.
Whatever it is, I’m here, sitting in the hotel bar of the girl I’ll never stop loving, drinking whiskey to fill the void in my chest where my heart once stood.
Hearing Melody tell Julian she loved him gutted me. It stung more than Julian’s confession that they’re getting married next month. Every report I had read on their upcoming nuptials said no date had been set, so you can imagine how hard the knock to my stomach was when I discovered it’s only twenty-seven days away.
I should have told Julian he’s too late. Melody is already married. We didn’t have a celebrant, and we ate our Ring Pop wedding rings at our reception, but the vows we spoke certainly seemed real. I guess everything feels real to eight-year-olds who have no clue how fucked up adulthood can be.
It could be worse. Melody could have been walked down the aisle by her mother like Wren did for us that day. She thought it was ‘cute’ that we wanted our commitment ceremony witnessed by an adult. She even signed our fake marriage certificate. It’s in our time capsule. The one Melody reburied so I wouldn’t find the love letter she hid inside.
I stop reminiscing on all the places she could have buried it when a familiar voice jingles in my ears. Madden is making his way to the bar. His staggered walk is being followed by three of his friends. One I recognize even with the years not being kind to him. It’s Connor Eckhart—the instigator of Melody’s and my very first fight. He’s looking a little haggard, kind of how I imagine Phoenix would have looked if he hadn’t gotten off the drugs.
After ordering a round of drinks like he’s one of the rock stars in the main area of the gala, Madden slings his eyes around the bar, seeking a vacant spot for him and his friends. I don’t sink into the shadows. Madden’s head is so far up his ass, he wouldn’t recognize his own brother if he were standing directly in front of him, so my station in the corner of the room won’t be noticed.
When my assumption is proven accurate, I throw down the last of my drink before requesting another. The bartender is generous with my refill. The fifty I threw in his tip jar when I arrived has served me well.
I switch from guzzling my drink to nursing it when the big gulp I take goes straight to my head. I’m not a heavy alcohol drinker, but even if I were, no amount of alcohol would have me missing the lady making her way to the counter. Even with her body covered in sweats and her wet hair hanging halfway down her back, I’d never forget the wild kinks her dirty blonde locks get when she lets it dry naturally, much less her gorgeous face.
It dawns on me that Melody isn’t here to drown her sorrows when the bartender hands her a leather wallet. It isn’t the feminine type and considering this is the only bar in this hotel, I’m quick to realize who it belongs to.
After issuing her thanks to the bartender with a halfhearted smile, Melody spins on her heels, preparing to exit. Unlike Madden, she spots my stalk in an
instant. Her lips part so she can suck in a shallow breath as her red-rimmed eyes prepare for another bout of crying. Our argument hurt her as much as it did me. I’m confident of that.
A single tear plops onto her cheek when I sign, “I am sorry.”
She looks set to issue an apology of her own but loses the chance when Connor notices her standing at the bar. I’m shocked it took him so long to spot her. She’s not dressed to the nines like the other women in the overly populated establishment, but she doesn’t need a ritzy dress to be notable. She’s captivating just as she is.
I can’t see what Connor is signing to Melody, but her facial expression gives a clear indication she isn’t interested in anything he’s selling, and I won’t mention the lewd gestures Madden and his two friends are making behind Melody’s back, or it may tempt me to test the versatility of the weapon on my hip.
Just as I stand to my feet, over my pigheaded brother’s lack of respect, Connor returns to his seat. His friends rally around him, acting as if Melody’s rejection occurred in the middle of prom. I’m not surprised. Madden still acts like he’s in high school when he gets a few drinks in him.
I think the worst is over, but not even two seconds later, I’m proven wrong. The color drains from Melody’s face as her hand shoots up to clamp her mouth. As her chest thrusts like she can’t suck in an entire breath, she cranks her neck back to peer at Madden and his friends. Her ghost-like stare ends their vulgarity in an instant. Even Madden seems taken aback—even more so when Melody upends his table, sending a jug of beer and six shots of Jägermeister spilling into his lap.
Even with a flipped table lodged between them, Melody is up in Madden’s face in an instant. “You fucking pig!”
When she bangs on his chest with her fists, its hollow echoes launch me into action. No matter how hard she fights, she’ll never drum any sense into a heartless man. It’s not possible. I gave up on Madden six years ago for that very reason. Attempting to teach him morals is like flogging a dead horse. Utterly pointless.
“I thought it was him. I thought it was Joey!” Melody shouts as I band my arm around her waist to pull her back.
“It was him,” Madden defends when I walk Melody toward the exit. “Don’t try to pin that shit on me because you’re running out of money.”
Madden’s reply agitates Melody more. She kicks and thrashes against me as she hurls abuse at Madden. She tells him she fucking hates him, and how she wishes it was him who was dead. She claws and screams and throws out threats as if they’re grenades. Her rant only ends when my attempt to remove her from a volatile situation veers us past my mom. She freezes in an instant as the fury on her face switches to remorse.
“I’m sorry, so so sorry,” she mutters to my mom on repeat, the anger gone from her voice. “I didn’t know it wasn’t him. I swear, I didn’t know.”
She repeats the same phrase another two times before the elevator doors closing gobbles up her words. I assumed a quiet, confined area would help get back her headspace, but it seems to do the opposite. The instant I jab the button for the Presidential suite, words fly out of Melody’s mouth nonstop.
“I thought it was him. He was wearing his shoes. He had on your cologne.” I place her onto her feet, fretful my clutch around her waist is hampering her breathing when she shudders through her last sentence. “He had no facial hair. None.” It dawns on me how hard she’s shaking when she runs her hand across my recently shaved jaw. “You had prickles. You didn’t bother shaving when we weren’t at school.” She drops her hand, the wetness in her eyes doubling. “He must have shaved.” She hiccups three times before adding devastatingly, “He wanted me to think he was Joey.”
“Who wanted you to think they were Joey?”
She folds in two when Joey’s name comes toppling out of my mouth. “Oh, Joey. I’m so sorry.” Her apology is utterly gut-wrenching. It steals the air from my lungs as quickly as it does Melody’s. She claws at her throat, begging for the strangling hold to lessen so she can secure a full breath.
“Breathe, Melody,” I demand when her wheezy grapple for air has her face whitening to the point she looks seconds from passing out.
“I… thought… it was him,” she squeaks between gasps.
“Don’t worry about that now. Just breathe,” I beg, panicked about how shallow her breathing is. With how frantic her chest thrusts with each breath she takes, her lungs shouldn’t be working as hard as they are. “Take big breaths for me, Mellowy. Big, calming breaths.”
When the elevator dings announcing our arrival at Melody’s floor, the fret in my voice is replaced by someone I didn’t anticipate. Julian is standing in the hallway dressed in a similar pair of sweats as Melody.
“Mel, what’s going on?” The slight slur of his words reveals he’s still drunk, but there’s nothing like finding your fiancée in the midst of a panic attack to sober you up.
After pulling her out of the elevator car, Julian runs his eyes over every inch of Melody’s face and body. The horrified expression on his face proves he loves her. He’s just as devastated by the hollow look in her eyes as I am. It proves in an instant the money I found in Castro’s safe wasn’t for anything illegal. If it was, I’m certain it was to protect Melody.
Julian’s eyes snap to mine when Melody croaks out, “I… can’t… breathe.”
Since he’s lost on what to do, I move him out of my way before cupping my hands over Melody’s ears. When I lower my forehead to balance against hers, then commence counting to ten, her nostrils mimic the flare of mine.
“Five Mississippi’s. Six Mississippi’s. Seven Mississippi’s. Eight—”
Julian’s whiskey-scented breath fans my cheek when Melody whispers, “Mississippi’s. Nine Mississippi’s. Ten Mississippi’s.”
“That’s it, Mellowy. Big breaths. In and out. In and out.”
As her eyes lower to lip-read my confirmation that she’s okay and that I’ll never let anything happen to her, sparks of the old Melody I once knew form in her eyes. She’s fighting to claw her way out of the dark cloud attempting to swallow her whole, and I’m so fucking proud of her.
“Look at you. So brave and so—”
“Pretty,” she says with me.
It’s the worst time for me to smile, but I can’t help it. “And so damn pretty,” I correct.
Damn was on Wren’s naughty list of words. I only found out about her dislike during Melody’s and my mocked wedding. Supposedly, it’s impolite to say damn during your vows.
My comment breaks through the dense cloud swarming Melody before it breaks her heart. “I’m so sorry, BJ. I didn’t know. I thought it was Joey. This whole time I thought it was Joey.”
Although skeptical she’s fully out of the woods just yet, my curiosity is too strong to harness. “You thought who was Joey?”
I’m lost to what she means, but Julian isn’t. “It wasn’t Joey?”
Tears roll down Melody’s cheeks when she answers Julian’s question by shaking her head. “It was Madden.”
“Madden… what does Madden have to do with this?”
I discover the reason for Melody’s near breakdown when Julian snarls, “He raped her. All these years she thought it was Joey, but it wasn’t, it was Madden.” He drags a hand over his head like his confession is as shocking for him as it is for me. “How did you find out?”
Melody’s focus isn’t on Julian. I don’t even know if she heard his question. She’s staring straight at me, the truth in her eyes hitting me with blow after blow after blow.
My brother raped her.
He raped her.
“When?” I’m not authenticating her claims, I can see the truth in her eyes. I want to know the exact moment Liam’s worry was founded.
I pledged to protect his daughter.
I swore an oath to keep her safe.
I fucked up.
Then I almost fold in two when Melody whispers, “Joey’s summer party.”
“The night you were upset becau
se I wasn’t there for you.” I’m not asking questions. I am slotting the pieces of the puzzle together, one painful piece at a time. “That’s why you left. He’s the reason you left me.” The whiskey in my gut gurgles when I’m hit by another revelation. “You didn’t cheat. You said you had slept with someone because to you, it wasn’t a lie.”
Melody’s voice is as low as my heart is sitting. “I knew you wouldn’t let me leave unless I gave you a reason to hate me.”
“Melody… fuck.” My fist breaks through the drywall at my side when the anger steamrolling into me becomes too much to bear. I failed her. Me. The man who pledged to keep her safe. That’s unforgivable.
As is Madden’s crime.
“BJ, wait!” Melody shouts when I throw open the emergency fire exit door next to the elevator. “Let me go, Julian,” she screams at him when he thwarts her attempts to follow my frantic gallop down the stairwell. “This has nothing to do with you. I need to be there for him!”
It’s for the best he keeps her away. She knows I’m going to kill the man who hurt her. She doesn’t need to witness it. Furthermore, I’m shocked she can look me in the eyes as it is. I don’t want anything to taint that when I switch from a law-abiding citizen to a murderer.
By the time I’ve reached the foyer of the hotel, I’m sweating profusely, and my anger is at an all-time high. Everything now makes sense—Melody’s decision to move across the country, her inability to say a proper goodbye to Joey, her response to Olivia’s bogus claims I had abused my position to force her to sleep with me.
God, it must have killed Melody reading Olivia’s witness statement. It would have made it seem as if Madden’s assault is never-ending.
That’s why I must end him, or Melody will never be at peace.
“Madden!” As I barge through the throng of people making their way from the ballroom the gala was held in to the hotel’s entrance, I unharness my gun. I’m so worked up right now, I doubt I’ll need it, but I’d rather be prepared.