The Meltdown Match (A Romance Novella)

by Anderson, Rachael

  “No.” What Courtney felt didn’t resemble anger, more like a keen disappointment that she didn’t quite understand. She wasn’t eight anymore. She was twenty-seven and should know better than to believe in something like The Meltdown Match.

  Why, then, did she suddenly find herself questioning everything? Was her relationship with Mitch even real? Had she conjured up intense feelings because she thought the universe had said she should feel this way? And what about Heimel and her well of inspiration? Would that run dry yet again? She’d been so confident about everything only moments before, but now all her assurances had cracked.

  More than ever, Courtney hated the nickname of “Salt.”

  She drew in a deep breath and took a step back. She needed to get away from Mitch, away from everyone. She needed fresh air to breathe and time to figure out what in the heck had just happened.

  “I’m sorry, but I’ve got to go. I just remembered I have to do… something.”

  Mitch moved toward her, then stopped. His expression reflected confusion and concern, but he didn’t try to keep her from leaving. “I’ll call you when I get off work.”

  Courtney nodded, then turned and trotted down the stairs. Only this time, instead of her spirits rising with each excited leap up, they plummeted with each step down.

  When Mitch called after work, Courtney didn’t answer. When he called again ten minutes later, she rolled to her side and curled into a ball, hugging her pillow as she gripped her phone, still unsure of what to say. Her cell buzzed with a new text.

  I’m coming over.

  Her fingers reacted quickly. Now’s not a good time.

  A few minutes passed before the phone buzzed again. We need to talk.

  She stared at the words. Mitch deserved an explanation—he did—but what could she say? Her feelings felt so jumbled and cloudy. We do, and we will. Later. I need some time.

  What’s going on? This is killing me.

  Sorry, was all she could write. And she was. Very sorry. But even after spending all afternoon trying to talk herself out of feeling this way, she couldn’t keep the doubting questions or worries at bay. There were no threatening tears, no emotional outbursts. Courtney simply felt empty inside, as though part of her soul had up and left.

  A knock sounded at her door before it opened, and Hannah’s voice echoed through the quiet room. “Hey, you sick or something? You’ve been in here for hours.”

  Courtney said nothing, just gripped her pillow and clutched her phone as if it were her last link to sanity. Her bed moved as Hannah sat down. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “I’m a mess,” Courtney mumbled into her pillow.

  A pause. “Wanna talk about it?”

  “No.”

  “Fine, I’ll go get Mom. No wait—make that Dad.”

  Courtney twisted around and glared at her sister. “Don’t you dare.”

  “Me or him—take your pick.” Hannah shifted, making herself comfortable. “But since I already know you’re messed up, I’m probably the lesser of the two evils, so I’d choose me if I were you.”

  Courtney sighed and pulled herself up, hugging her knees to her chest. Maybe talking it through with someone would help, and Hannah was the preferred choice. “I just found out that Mitch made our vases out of salt water so they’d melt faster.”

  Hannah’s eyes widened at the same time her smile did. “Are you serious? That’s awesome!”

  “No,” Courtney said. “Not awesome. All this time I’ve been thinking that we were, you know... destined to be together or whatever, and now it turns out we’re like every other couple out there who met randomly and happened to make a connection.”

  The smile faded from Hannah’s face, replaced with a look of disbelief. “You can’t be serious. Court—hello! You make love sound like an everyday occurrence, when you, of all people, should know better. You’ve dated and walked away from a lot of guys in the past, but now you’re finally with Mitch—a guy you’ve always liked—and you’ve never been happier. Don’t you dare walk away from him just because you weren’t really matched up by the sun.” She paused. “I can’t believe I had to say that. Now you’re making me sound crazy.”

  Courtney sighed. “Believe it or not, I know all that—I do. I just can’t make my illogical feelings see logic, if that makes sense. It’s like with my writing and Heimel. I could never stay here permanently because this town would become the place I live, not the place that inspires me. Then The Meltdown Match and Mitch happened, and I finally thought that everything had changed. But now I don’t know anything anymore.”

  Hannah’s mouth parted as she blinked at her sister. “Oh my heck. You’re like one of those athletes who won’t cut their hair or wash their socks the entire season because they think it will jinx them.”

  Courtney brought her knees to her chest and frowned out the window. “Told you I was a mess.”

  “I’ll say.” Hannah shook her head in disbelief. “Know what? I think this is one of those times when your over-active imagination is getting the best of you. You live in the real world. You know that, right? A world where apple trees don’t grow fruit during the winter, the wind doesn’t have healing properties, and the sun’s definitely not a matchmaker.”

  Courtney frowned. She’d always liked to believe that her books had the power to inspire, but maybe they didn’t. Maybe they only created daydreamers with unrealistic expectations. Like her. So much for thinking this talk would help. It had only made things worse.

  “I know,” she finally muttered.

  “Do you? Really? Because I’m not so sure.” Hannah rose to her feet and walked toward a small bookcase where she pulled out a copy of each of Courtney’s four published books.

  She held one up. “Remember what inspired this one? You came home for the summer, and Mitch organized a camping trip. It was windy, and I sprained my ankle, but no one had an ace bandage in their first aid kit, so Mitch made a joke about how if wind could heal, it would be better in no time. The next day, you started writing this book.”

  She tossed it on the bed and held up another. “Remember when you took a semester off and came home in the dead of winter? It was below freezing outside, and to help pass the time, Mitch invited everyone over to his house for games. You said you were craving an apple, and he said not to worry. He had a tree out back that grew apples all year long. Then he disappeared and came back with an apple.”

  Another book landed by the first before Hannah held up the next. “And this one, about a small town that produces amazing artists? That story came after Mitch made us all drive to Anchorage to see Lilly’s painting at that gallery. While we were there, he said that Heimel must have something special in the water, because not only did Lily’s painting make it in a gallery, but you’d just published your first book.”

  The book landed on top of the others as Hannah held up the last one. “What about the time we went spelunking? Don’t you remember?”

  Hannah’s voice seemed to fade into the background as Courtney’s gaze dropped to her hands. She did remember now. Everything. The apple. The healing wind. The magical town. And the cave of truth, where no one could lie.

  All this time, she’d been giving Heimel credit for her inspiration when it had really been Mitch—the same person who’d inspired her with her latest idea. How had she been so blind? So stupid? So wrong?

  Tears sprang to her eyes at the same time Hannah’s hand came to rest on her knee, bringing Courtney back to the present. “Don’t you see? What you have with Mitch is way more miraculous than winning some stupid ice-melt contest. What you have with him is something some people look for their entire lives and never find.”

  It was true. Even with tears marring her vision, Courtney could see more clearly now than ever before. A warm feeling spread through her body, taking away the heaviness and weaving in peace and joy. Her sister was right. What she and Mitch had went way beyond superstitions and magic and fantasy.

  What she and Mitch had wa
s real.

  Her arms went around her sister as she simultaneously laughed and cried. “Thank you so much for pointing out how stupid I am.” She sniffed and wiped at her eyes. “You really are the best.”

  “Duh.”

  Mitch sat in his boat in the middle of the lake and flung his fishing pole forward, casting his line as far as he could. Then he reeled it in, too fast to actually catch anything. Not that he wanted to. What he wanted was for the unsettled feeling in his gut to go away and for the image of Courtney backing away from him to leave his mind.

  Normally after a bad day, fishing had a calming effect on him, but today was different. Today he’d lived with the worry that Courtney could walk out of his life yet again. That she’d show up at any moment with the news that it was time for her to move on.

  His stomach in knots, Mitch cast the line again before turning the reel as fast as he could, as if retrieving the hook would somehow bring her back. But when the hook resurfaced empty, all it did was serve as a reminder of how he felt. Empty.

  Over and over, he cast and reeled, cast and reeled, looking for a solace he couldn’t find. She needed some time. She needed space. She needed distance. From him.

  The sick feeling returned with a vengeance, and Mitch threw his fishing pole to the bottom of the boat. It was no use. Not even fishing helped.

  “Mitch!” The faraway voice seemed to echo off the lake and surrounding trees.

  He looked around, finally spotting long, blonde hair blowing in the breeze and two arms waving at him. Courtney was here. Ready to talk? About what? Mitch still had no clue what had gone wrong. Queasiness filled his stomach as he started the engine and headed for the dock. He pulled up moments later, avoiding her gaze, too afraid of what he’d see.

  “Hey.” She sounded happy and light. Possibly even bipolar.

  Mitch felt more confused than ever. He tied up his boat slowly before stepping onto the dock and eyeing her warily.

  She started to move toward him, but stopped and clasped her fingers together, looking suddenly nervous. “I guess you probably want an explanation.”

  “That all depends on what your explanation is,” he said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his khaki shorts.

  Courtney took a tentative step toward him and drew in a deep breath. “Okay, so here goes. When I found out that you were behind the contest, I sort of freaked out about, well, everything. I wanted to believe the contest was real, that we really were destined to be together, and then I found out it wasn’t. It threw me a little.”

  Mitch wanted to pull her to him, give her a good shake and tell her that they were destined to be together. It was something he’d known for years. But his hands remained at his side and his mouth shut.

  “But then Hannah bluntly pointed out that I’ve been wrong about everything. Especially you.”

  Him? Courtney had been wrong about him? What was that supposed to mean?

  “I don’t understand,” Mitch finally said.

  She approached him and took his hands in hers. “You’re my inspiration. Not Heimel. Not coming home. You.”

  For the first time since Courtney had walked out on him earlier, Mitch felt his chest lighten. He had no idea how she’d come to that conclusion, but if it meant she wasn’t going anywhere, he’d take it. Or did she mean that?

  “Wait, what does that mean, exactly?” Mitch said. “Do you still feel the need to move away and come home to me instead of Heimel? Like I’m some... I really don’t know what to compare it to. All I know is that I wouldn’t be okay with it.”

  Her lips drew into a smile. “What I’m saying is that I’m here to stay. For good.”

  “But what about the whole needing to be re-inspired thing?” Mitch wasn’t quite ready to believe her. His world had been shaken and it didn’t feel right yet.

  Courtney intertwined her fingers with his and swallowed. “Look, I don’t know what the future holds for me, for us, or for my writing. But what I do know is that from here on out, I’m choosing to believe in us rather than some silly superstitions. I’m in love with you, Mitchell Winters, and I want to be here with you. For always and no matter what.”

  A light breeze blew past, making him wonder if the wind really did have restorative properties. As it came and went, all of the heaviness and worry and heartache seemed to leave with it. He lifted Courtney’s hands, bringing her closer. “You’ll really be happy living here with me?”

  “Yes,” she said without hesitation. “Although I do still want to travel and research places for my books. But I’m hoping you’ll come with me.”

  The corners of his mouth tugged into a smile. “So long as you don’t mind if I check out the engineering side of things while we’re there.”

  “Of course not.” A teasing glint appeared in her eyes. “In fact, maybe my next book will be about an engineer.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Will his name be Mitch?”

  “Definitely.”

  “Will he have x-ray vision and be able to see through roads so people know exactly where to dig?”

  Courtney’s lips twitched as she shook her head. “No.”

  “Will he be a brilliant mathematician who never has to use a calculator?”

  “No.”

  “Oh.” He shrugged, out of ideas. “I guess he’ll have to be the guy who can sense when two people are supposed to be together and manipulates the situation so they are.” He grinned as he tugged on a lock of her hair. “Like with salt.”

  Her forehead creased in thought, and she drew her lower lip into her mouth for a moment before letting it out. “You mean like Cupid?”

  Mitch frowned, picturing a naked cherub with a pink bow and tiny white wings. “No, not like Cupid. That was just a joke—a bad one.”

  “Well, I like it. And considering how all of my ideas have been inspired by one of your bad jokes, it’s got merit.”

  If that was the case, Mitch really needed to stop joking, especially when it came to characters named Mitch. “What about Hercules instead? He’s pretty cool.”

  “No, I like Cupid.”

  “Zeus? Poseidon? I’d even take Hades.”

  Her fingers threaded through the hair at the nape of his neck. “I think I’ve finally figured out the perfect nickname for yours truly—one that will be as fitting and endearing to you as Salt is to me.” She grinned. “Cupid.”

  This conversation was getting out of control. “I don’t think so.”

  “I do.” Her fingers pressed on the back of his neck, trying to pull his head toward hers, but Mitch resisted. “Oh, c’mon, Cupid,” she said with a slight pout on her lips. “Don’t you want to kiss me?”

  Mitch grasped for something—anything—to make the nickname go away. “Okay, fine, you win. I promise to stop calling you Salt if you never say that word again.”

  “Cupid, Cupid, Cupid, Cupid, Cupid, Cupid—”

  Mitch’s mouth covered hers with a kiss meant to erase all thoughts about engineers and books and Cupid. However, as her lips moved across his and her fingers worked their way through his hair, he was the one who forgot about everything but her.

  The day of June Solstice dawned overcast and rainy. Through her window, Courtney frowned at the skies as she smoothed her fingers against the soft satin of her wedding gown. This was all wrong. According to the weather report, the skies were supposed to be clear, the day sunny. A perfect day for an outdoor wedding.

  Her mother kept promising that it would clear up, that Courtney needed to finish getting ready, but the clouds didn’t break, and the rain continued to splatter lightly against her window pane.

  Not good.

  Courtney’s stomach twisted into knots at the implication. She forced herself to take a deep, calming breath. This was not the universe telling her that she shouldn’t marry Mitch or pick another wedding day. It was an unlucky coincidence. That’s all.

  Horribly unlucky.

  Her phone rang with Mitch’s ringtone,
and Courtney quickly brought it to her ear. More than ever, she needed to hear his voice.

  “No, this is not a bad omen, and yes we’re still supposed to get married today,” Mitch said without preamble. “In fact, this is actually a good sign. It means our married life together will be full of surprises and never dull.”

  Courtney couldn’t help her answering smile. She loved that he knew where her crazy thoughts were headed—and that he still wanted to marry her in spite of them. More than that, he knew exactly what to say to erase the worried lines from her forehead.

  “I was just thinking the exact same thing,” she said.

  “Liar.”

  Her smile widened. “Okay, Mr. Know-it-all, where are we going to have the wedding now?”

  “Outside, near the lake, as planned. It’s already set up, and the food is under that gazebo thing you rented, so we’re good.”

  “So long as the food stays dry,” she said dryly.

  “Exactly.”

  Courtney rolled her eyes and looked down, picturing rain splattering all over her dress while her short train skidded across the muddy ground. What would her hair look like after a few minutes in this weather? Not like it did now, that was for sure.

  “But what about my dress?”

  “I don’t see a problem. It’s not like you’re planning to wear it again.” A pause. “Right?”

  “Well no, but—” It was beautiful and white and expensive, and Courtney didn’t want it to get muddy. She wanted it to look clean and perfect for the day her future daughter tried it on. Did she really have to explain that?

  “But what?”

  Courtney sighed. “My hair will go limp and the pictures will look awful.”

  “Oh please. You couldn’t look awful if you tried, and the pictures will give us a great story to tell our kids one day.”

  An almost hysterical laugh escaped Courtney’s mouth, mostly because she actually found herself considering his suggestion. She threw up her free hand and plopped down on her bed. “Okay fine, Mr. Cupid Man, let’s get married in the rain.”