Wasted Summer
Page 11
Mel laughed, and her phone vibrated in her back pocket. “You’re right.” She grabbed her phone to check it. She couldn’t help but smile when she saw the message was from Ryeland.
If you need a ride, text me. Or even if you don’t…
She shoved the phone back into her pocket without answering.
“Let me guess, lover boy?” When she didn’t answer Jaelyn asked, “What did he want?”
“He wanted to know if we needed a ride anywhere.”
“Are you going to answer him?”
“No.”
“That’s probably for the best, right?”
“Right,” she agreed, and opened the door to the bookstore.
Once inside Jaelyn went straight to the magazines. She bought one and sat at the small coffee shop at the back of the store, flipping through it as Mel browsed the shelves and read the back blurbs on at least a dozen novels. She normally read on her laptop, but there was something about the smell of an old-fashioned novel that she loved.
Deciding to treat herself to one, she took one to the cash register. She glanced out the window as the cashier rung her up and saw her mom out on the street, exiting the small café where she waitressed.
Mel’s heart tightened at the sight of her. She looked tired, sad, smaller than usual as she hustled down the street in her too-high heels and too-tight mustard-yellow uniform that her breasts were ready to spill out of.
Mel felt a twinge of guilt that she hadn’t called to check up on her after tucking her in. She shot a glance Jaelyn’s way. She hated to bail on her, but after seeing her mom, she felt the need to check in on her.
Mel paid for her book then sat down next to Jaelyn, the sweet smell of her friend’s cinnamon latte drifting past Mel’s nostrils.
“What?” Jaelyn asked when she looked up to find Mel watching her
Mel twisted her lips and nodded her head toward the street. “I just saw my mom. She was leaving work.”
Jaelyn nodded, understanding flashing in her green eyes. Jaelyn might be loud, fun, and flirty most of the times, but always came through at times like this. “You should go.”
“But we were supposed to hang out.”
“I can wait for you if you want?”
“No. Why don’t you go to the Cave? I know you want to.”
Jaelyn closed her magazine. “Are you sure? I don’t mind.”
Mel put her hand over Jaelyn’s and squeezed. “Go. Have fun. I have no idea how long I’ll be anyway.”
“Okay. Text if you need me.”
“I will.”
Mel gave Jaelyn a hug and left the bookstore. She hurried her steps to catch up to her mom. She came up from behind and put her arm around her mom’s shoulder.
“Hey, Mom,” she said.
Her mom’s tired eyes lit. “Mel, you scared me.”
“Sorry.” She gestured toward the bookstore. “I was just in there and saw you leaving work. I thought I’d walk home with you.”
Her mom’s heels clicked on the sidewalk and she could tell the strain of being in them all day was taking its toll. “I can make you something to eat and run you a nice hot bath,” Mel added.
“You’re a good girl, Mel.” She looked at the bag in Mel’s hand as they cut the corner. “What are you reading these days? Still those ridiculous love stories.”
Mel felt her heart fall. “Yeah,” she said.
A noise sounded in her mother’s throat, a half laugh, half groan. “The sooner you learn there is no such thing as happily ever after, the better off you’ll be.”
Unable to help herself, Mel countered with, “You must still believe in it. You date all the time.”
“That’s different.”
Yeah, it probably was. Mel constantly had to remind herself that her father hadn’t just hurt her, he’d hurt his wife too, and now her mom lost herself in booze to self medicate and numb the pain. It couldn’t be easy living with the things the man she’d married and loved had done to his own daughter. And, like a lot of women, her mom couldn’t stand to be alone, which accounted for all the different men—she wasn’t looking for love, she was looking to forget.
They climbed the stairs to her mom’s place and, wanting to change the subject, Mel said, “I was chatting with Mr. Johnson the other day. He’s such a nice man.”
“He’s been very good to us, especially after…” Her mom unlocked the door and she let her words fall off as they made their way to her apartment. Inside, Mel went straight to the window to open it to air out the stale smell of alcohol. Her mom kicked off her shoes and fell onto the sofa.
Mel sat on the coffee table and faced her, and even though they’d been over this a million times, Mel couldn’t help but ask again. “Mom, when I leave here, please come with me. We can start fresh, somewhere new. Maybe we can even get a place with a balcony, like you always wanted.” God, the last thing Mel wanted to do was leave Deerfield without her mother, especially when she needed help.
“We’ve been over this, baby.” Her mom patted Mel’s knee. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m too old to pack up a life and leave.”
“But you hate it here.”
“You go and stop worrying about me. I’ll be fine.”
Mel wasn’t so sure about that.
Her heart squeezed at the defeat she saw on her mother’s face. She’d basically given up on life, and herself, after the incident. She’d also long given up on being a mother, choosing instead to lose herself in the bottom of a bottle.
“Why don’t I run you a bath, and while you’re soaking I’ll make you something to eat. Then maybe we can watch a show together. You know, like old times.”
“I can’t, baby. I have a date tonight.”
“Oh.” Mel tried not to show disappointment. Honestly, she couldn’t expect her mother to just drop everything and be there whenever she wanted her to.
A girl like you should always have someone there for her.
As if thinking of Ryeland had suddenly conjured him, her phone pinged and a text came in from him. Her heart did a flip.
Where are you? I just saw Jaelyn, but can’t find you.
I’m not at the Cave.
Home?
No, I had some things to take care of.
She stared at the phone, and could tell he started a text and stopped. Finally he asked, Everything okay?
Yeah.
You need a lift?
She grinned. No. But thanks.
Text me later?
Since she wasn’t sure that was a great idea, considering she was beginning to think about him more and more, she texted, G’night.
With that she powered down her phone and stuffed it back in to her pocket.
“Who you texting, baby?” Her mom reached for a cigarette.
“No one.”
“If it was no one then why are you smiling?”
“I’m not.”
“I hope it’s not some boy.” She waved her cigarette. “They only break your heart.”
“It’s just a friend.” Mel walked to the bathroom and turned on the water, adding a few drops of scented bubble bath to the water.
After her mom slid in, Mel opened the fridge and rooted around until she found some carrots and potatoes. She grabbed a can of tomatoes from the cupboard and whipped up a bowl of soup, making a note to pick up a few more groceries for her. She stayed with her mom while she finished eating, then left when she disappeared into her room to get ready.
The sky was pitch black and overcast by the time she exited the apartment, and she hugged herself against the chill in the air. Hurrying to Main Street to catch the shuttle, Mel tried to fight the pang of sadness building in her.
She climbed onboard and nodded to Jake, then took a seat in the middle, simply because she wasn’t up to making conversation. They drove by the Cave and she could see the fire still burning brightly, all the kids having fun. Would Ryeland still be there? She pulled her phone out and opened his messages. As she reread she stifled a yawn. God
she was tired, and not just physically. Being with her mom always left her feeling a little raw, a little emotional.
She stared at her phone, her thumb scrolling over her exchange with Ryeland. She shouldn’t text him back. She really shouldn’t. If she knew what was good for her, she’d climb into bed and go straight to sleep, and if there ever was one girl who knew what was good for her, it was Mel.
The shuttle stopped in front of the resort and she walked to her room. She looked around, half expecting to see Ryeland leaning against his Jeep, looking like sex in a T-shirt as he stood there waiting for her—as always. When she didn’t find him, disappointment sat heavy in her gut, and she gave herself a quick lecture.
She made her way to her room, and threw herself on her bed, her finger still scrolling over Ryeland’s messages. She looked at her laptop and thought about writing, but then turned back to the phone. A war waged inside her, and while logic dictated that she end this with him—she didn’t want things to get any more personal—she found herself punching in a quick text.
Maybe she was reaching out to chat, a distraction to get her mind off her mother. Or perhaps it had more to do with the fact that it was Ryeland and she just simply wanted to connect. Either way, she clearly didn’t know what was good for her.
A text from him came back instantly and butterflies took flight in her stomach.
Want to do something.
She thumbed back. It’s late.
Okay, it’s late, want to do something?
Mel drew her bottom lip between her teeth. God, he was so persistent, and well…there was something about it that that she found charming.
What do you want to do? she texted.
I’ll tell you when I get there.
I never said yes.
But you were thinking it.
The list Ryeland…it’s getting longer.
HAHA, on my way.
Mel ran to her bathroom, combed her hair, brushed her teeth, then gave herself a once-over in the mirror. She tugged on a sweater to ward off the evening chill in the air and left her room. She probably shouldn’t be so excited to see him, considering they were just friends and all, but she couldn’t deny that it felt like a boa constrictor had just wrapped itself around her lungs, making it a bit more difficult to breathe.
His Jeep pulled into the parking area and she walked down the pebbled walkway toward him. He jumped from the driver’s side and came toward her. She took in his confident athletic gait, his quick purposeful steps.
“Hey,” he said, those pewter eyes raking over her face in a way that made her feel all warm and jittery. God, when he focused his entire attention on her like that it made her forget why getting too close to him was a bad idea. She forced herself to breathe slowly.
“So.” Her voice came out unusually high. “What do you want to do?”
“Hop in and I’ll show you.”
She planted her hands on her hips and took in his grin. “You’re not going to get me into any trouble are you?” she asked.
He laughed. “Me? Never.”
“Ryeland—”
“Trust me.” He opened the passenger side door and motioned for her to get in. “I’d never lie to you.”
She slid in and after he settled in next to her, he headed up the mountain, going in the opposite direction from town. They drove past the empty gondolas and the grassy ski hills, which were still lit up despite it being the resort’s off-season, and climbed higher and higher into the mountains.
He pulled onto a dirt road and she eyed him as they went over rough terrain. “Back way to the lake,” he explained.
“You want to go swimming? I didn’t bring a suit.”
He stopped at the end of the long dirt road, pulling into the large parking lot that was empty at this time of night. He eyed her and she hugged herself, because she was almost sure he was going to suggest she didn’t need one—a typical male response. She was not about to go skinny-dipping with him, and was about to tell him so, but what he said next took her by surprise and had her closing her mouth.
“Switch seats with me.”
As he reached for his door, she stared at him, certain she’d heard wrong.
“Why would I switch seats with you?”
“So you can drive.”
“Are you crazy? I can’t drive.”
“I know and that’s why we’re here. So you can learn.”
“Why do I need to learn? I don’t even have a car.”
He lifted his hands. “Let’s say we were out for a drive and my appendix burst. I mean, I wouldn’t be able to drive to the hospital or anything, and if you didn’t know how to drive the Jeep, I could very well die. So, basically, learning is a matter of life and death.”
She sat there staring at him, a laugh bubbling up in her throat. “Maybe you’re the one who should be the writer, because that’s a really good scenario.”
“It could happen, you know.”
“Or I could wrap the Jeep around a tree and kill us both right here and now.”
“Nah, come on. I can teach you.”
She opened her door and walked around the Jeep. “Ryeland, I don’t know about this.” He passed her at the front of the vehicle, his body brushing hers, then slipped into the passenger’s side.
“You’re going to be a natural. I can tell.”
She jumped in and said, “You’d better buckle up.”
Once they both had their seat belts on, Ryeland gave her the rundown. Taking his time to explain how the clutch worked, when to press on the gas, and how to shift gears.
“Okay, so I let the clutch out until I feel it pull, then hit the gas?”
“It’s that easy.”
While she wasn’t so certain, she followed his instructions, only to end up stalling and jerking forward.
She pursed her lips. “Still think I’m a natural?”
“Of course. Everyone does that the first couple of times. Let’s try again. It took me a few tries to get it right.”
“I doubt it. I’m sure you do everything right the first time.”
He gave her a lopsided grin full of suggestion. “There are some things I’m quite a natural at.”
Of that she had no doubt.
She turned her focus back to the road, not wanting to go there with him. Well, maybe she did, but she wasn’t going to. “Okay, hold on.” She tried it again, and actually managed to get the Jeep moving. “Now what?” she asked as she circled the outside of the parking lot.
“Now you have to shift to second. I’m going to help, okay?”
She nodded, even though she had no idea how he could help from the passenger seat. She gripped the stick shift and his hand closed over hers, his rough palm so warm and distracting on the back of her hand she instantly stalled out.
“What happened?” he asked without removing his hand.
“I…uh…I’m not sure,” she said. She cast him a quick glance. If she didn’t know better, she’d think this was his way of holding her hand. But she did know better. Right? Okay, maybe she didn’t. She was about to call him on it when he gave a small, reassuring squeeze.
“Try again,” he urged.
She positioned her feet and concentrated on the feel of the clutch as she pressed down on the gas. Once she got the vehicle moving, she drove around the empty parking lot, and when she picked up speed, Ryeland gave her a nod.
“Ready?”
She eased off the gas and compressed the clutch again as Ryeland helped her slide into second.
“Now let off the clutch and slowly ease down on the gas pedal.”
She did exactly as he said, and soon enough she was tooling around the parking lot, paying no attention to the signs or road markings. She cast a quick glance his way, giving him a big smile. “I can’t believe I’m actually driving.”
His thumb brushed over her hand. “Fun, huh?”
“Yeah, kinda.” She cut through the parking lot, picking up even more speed. “Should we go to third base?”
Oh, Jesus.
“It’s not baseball, Melody.” His glance dropped to her mouth again. “Or sex.”
“Gear,” she said quickly, wondering what Freud would have said about her mistake. “I meant third gear.” Flustered, she turned her attention back to the steering wheel, but her feet fumbled and the vehicle jerked forward, almost hitting the one and only guardrail in the lot. She turned the wheel quickly, and came to an abrupt stop.
Ryeland groaned low in his throat, but she guessed it had nothing to do with her near accident.
She pulled in a breath. “Sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry about. You did great.”
She eyed him skeptically. “Why is it I don’t believe you?”
“You should.” All humor fell from his face. “I’d never lie to you.”
She looked at him carefully, taking in the honesty in his eyes. She wanted to believe him. Wanted to believe that Ryeland Montgomery really was a trustworthy guy.
“It’s late,” she said, suddenly out of her comfort zone. “I should head back.”
“Do you want to drive?” he asked.
“I think if we want to make it back in one piece, I’d better leave that to you.”
He leaned into her, his thick muscles bunching as he turned in his seat. “Don’t worry, by the end of the summer you’ll be a pro,” he said, his mouth so close to hers for a minute she thought he was going to kiss her. And oh, God, how she secretly wanted him to.
She reached for the handle but his voice stopped her. “Mel.”
“Yeah?” she asked, her blood pounding harder through her veins.
“I think maybe you should slide over me?”
“What?” she asked, her body tensing. “What are you talking about?”
He opened his door, and it hit against the guardrail. “I can’t get out and you can’t get in. Not unless you want to move us away from the rail.”
“I should move us.” Completely rattled by the way he was staring at her, she started the Jeep only to stall out. With her brain and body no longer functioning on the same wavelength, she failed miserably at putting the vehicle into motion. Three tries later, Ryeland closed his hand over hers.