Fall with Me (Sixth Street Bands Book 2)

by Jayne Frost

  “That tree looks a little small,” she'd noted, blinking up at me with doe eyes. “Unless you're going to put it in the bathroom or something.”

  She was right. The ceilings at my place were twenty feet high. But I’d already calculated the space Mel had in her tiny living room and the little Douglas fir I picked out was pushing it. Not to mention the problem I was now facing—getting the damn thing up the narrowest stairwell known to man. Gripping the bag of ornaments I’d picked up at Wal-Mart, I let out a sigh and then began my ascent. By the time I made it to Mel’s landing, my hands were full of sap and I’m pretty sure I’d busted more than a couple of the delicate glass bulbs by cracking the bags against the walls in the narrow passageway.

  Propping the tree against the wall next to Mel’s door, I dug into my pocket to fish out her key. When soft noises drifted from inside the apartment, I stilled.

  “Very late.”

  That’s the vague answer Mel had given me when I’d asked her how long she’d be busy with her “plans.”

  Before I could think better of it, my fist shot out to bang against the flimsy wood.

  The look on Mel’s face when she found me on the stoop was like a punch to the gut.

  “Christian.” She hurried onto the welcome mat, pulling the door closed behind her. “What are you doing here?”

  What the fuck was I doing here?

  I glanced over Mel’s flannel pajamas, messy hair, and freshly scrubbed face. Since my voice was trapped behind the lump in my throat, I motioned to the Christmas tree.

  “I, uh,” clearing my throat, I rubbed the back of my neck, “was going to surprise you. But I guess I was the one who was in for a surprise.”

  Mel’s lips parted, then closed. When she tried again with the same result, I gave her a wry smile and then turned on my heel.

  “Have a good night, Melody,” I called, taking the steps two at a time.

  The blood pounding in my ears wasn’t loud enough to drown out the sound of her bare feet slapping the concrete behind me.

  “Christian, wait.”

  Wait?

  Not a chance. I sucked in a deep breath, resisting the urge to sprint. Mel’s voice got closer, more insistent.

  “Please!” Jogging to my side, she grabbed my arm. “You don’t understand.”

  As she stood there, trying to catch her breath, the white-hot anger bubbling beneath my skin boiled over like a simmering cauldron.

  “You’re right, I don’t understand. You told me you had plans.” I flicked the sleeve on her worn t-shirt. “Obviously, you don’t. If you wanted to be alone, you just had to tell me. I would’ve understood.”

  My fit of rage belied the point. Because I didn’t understand. I wanted to spend the day with Mel. Wanted it so bad, I planned this little surprise so I’d have an excuse to steal a couple of hours with her when she was finished doing whatever it is she had to do.

  Which, from the looks of it, was nothing at all.

  Squeezing her eyes shut, Mel let out a frustrated sigh. “I do have plans. I just…I can’t…”

  Watching her struggle to let me down easy was more than I could bear. We’d made a silent vow to keep it casual, and I damn well intended to live up to it.

  “I get the picture, angel.” I shook off her grip. “Enjoy the tree.”

  Resuming my trek to the parking lot, Mel followed, struggling to match my brisk pace.

  “There is no picture. I didn’t want to ruin …I mean…” Clearly exasperated, her fingers circled my bicep as she ground to a halt. “Will you wait a fucking minute? I’m trying to talk to you.”

  Since ripping the girl’s arm off wasn’t an option, I complied. When she didn’t say anything after a long moment, I let out a sigh.

  “Mel, it’s fine,” I said evenly, hoping to appeal to her logical side so she’d stop trying to make up excuses. “You don’t owe me an—”

  Catapulting herself into my arms, her mouth crashed into mine with brute force. She thrust her tongue between my lips, seeking mine with wild abandon. Seizing control, I cupped the back of her neck and pulled her closer, letting her sweet taste wash away some of the anger.

  When I couldn’t sustain the kiss any longer, I stumbled back a foot, panting.

  “Damn, angel.” I ran my thumb over my bottom lip, checking for blood. “Is this the only way you know how to win an argument?”

  “I wasn’t the one arguing.”

  She was right, of course. As she tucked a fallen strand of hair behind her ear, I noticed the ink staining the side of her hand. Embarrassment filled the void where the anger had been. Fuck. She was graduating in two weeks and all I was thinking about was our nightly hook up.

  I forced a smile as I ran my thumb over her kiss-swollen lips. “I know you’ve got to study. Give me a call when you want some company.”

  I pressed a quick kiss to her forehead and then turned to leave but she didn’t release me.

  “I already have company,” she blurted.

  Lily’s pumpkin pie worked its way to the back of my throat. “You do?”

  Toeing a groove in the sidewalk, she wouldn’t look at me.

  The sting from her rejection hurt like a bitch, but I managed to keep it light as I told her, “I’ll let you get back to your guests then.”

  I barely took a step before her small voice rose behind me. “She’s not a guest. She’s my nana.”

  I spun around, confused. “Your nana?”

  Squinting, Mel looked around, her gaze shifting to the trees, the parking lot, anywhere but my face. “She lives in a nursing home a few blocks from here. She’s got a neurological disease—incurable.”

  Mel folded her arms around her waist, clutching the sides of her shirt before she continued. “Remember how I told you I used to work at a nursing home?” Her eyes met mine for confirmation and I nodded. “Well, I still do—fifteen hours a week. The pay is shit, but my discount just about covers what Medicare doesn’t. They specialize in diseases like hers.”

  She tipped her chin, jutting out her bottom lip. “And just so you know, that’s the only reason I turned down your invitation to go to The Parish. Nana can’t speak, but she knows everything that’s going on. I can’t miss a day, unless she knows beforehand. Since you told me about the show that morning, I didn’t have time to make plans. She would’ve been waiting for me.”

  Somehow during her speech, I’d closed the distance between us.

  Molding my hands to her hips, I looked down at her, confused. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  She shrugged, her usual posturing cast aside. “Because it’s not pretty.”

  “Life ain’t always pretty, angel. Its just life.”

  She nodded, a reticent smile curving her lips as she took a step back. “Since you’re here now…would you like to meet her?”

  Tiny rays of hope pushed aside the storm clouds in her expectant green eyes. I bent to kiss her, stealing a little piece of the sun.

  “Of course I want to meet her.” I gazed down at my beat-to-hell jeans and worn t-shirt. “I’m not exactly dressed to impress. But—”

  She cupped my stubbly jaw, guiding my face to hers. “You’re perfect.”

  Her smile was all the assurance I needed. That and the little peck she planted on my cheek. Before she could pull away, my fingers disappeared into her silky locks and I captured her mouth, softly this time.

  She smiled as I nibbled away the last trace of cherry lip balm.

  “Let’s go,” she said, taking my hand. “She’s probably worried by now.”

  Mel’s blond hair gleamed like a halo in the fading afternoon light as she pulled me along. An angel, just like I always proclaimed.

  Mine.

  Chapter Twelve

  On our way up the stairs Mel babbled about her nana’s condition. But as we approached the landing, the door loomed ahead like a portal into another dimension. I hadn’t met a girl’s family since my senior prom. And even then, I only stayed long enough for the chick’s m
other to fawn over my tux and snap a few pictures.

  At the portal of doom, Mel turned to me, chewing nervously on her lip. “Did you get all that?” she asked.

  I nodded dumbly, though I couldn’t recall a damn thing she’d just said.

  When Mel slipped inside, I gathered the tree and the ornaments, wondering how in the hell I ended up here.

  The answer came to me in a rush when I entered the living room and spotted Mel kneeling beside a grey haired woman in a clunky wheelchair.

  I’d come here to give Mel a gift, but instead she was giving me something more valuable: a glimpse into her life.

  Propping the Douglas fir in the corner, I waited while Mel whispered softly in her nana’s ear. After prying the remote from the old woman’s hand, which took some doing, Mel swung her gaze to mine, motioning me over with a slight jerk of her head.

  Hesitantly, I closed the gap.

  The old woman still hadn’t moved, so all I could see was her profile as she stared straight ahead, clenching and unclenching her fists purposefully in her lap.

  Tucking a finger under her nana’s delicate chin, Mel guided the woman’s face in my direction. Sparkling green eyes, worn by time and circumstances, met mine. The jade hue was a little dimmer, but the similarity was uncanny.

  Drawn to the woman who had the eyes of an angel—just like her granddaughter—I took the final step and then dropped on one knee beside Mel.

  “Nana, this is my friend, Christian.”

  The woman jerked slightly and Mel’s irises lit like a thousand watt bulb, a wide smile breaking across her lips. I thought I knew all of her smiles, but this one I’d never seen.

  My southern manners took over and I reached for her nana’s hand. “Hello ma’am.”

  The woman grasped my fingers with enough force to startle me. I’d met grown men with limper handshakes.

  “I warned you,” Mel said to me out of the corner of her mouth. “She can’t control her grip. Especially when she’s excited.”

  With a soft smile, Mel pried the woman’s fingers from mine. “Christian, this is my na…this is Marina Sullivan.”

  Narrowing her gaze, her nana rasped, “M-mo.” Closing her eyes, she took a gulp of air, then repeated in a clearer voice: “Mo.”

  Mel laughed at my confused expression. “She hates the name Marina, so everyone just calls her ‘Mo.’”

  There was no mistaking the smile in the old woman’s eyes as she gazed up at her granddaughter. Something passed between them in the silence, and Mel snorted a laugh.

  “Enough already,” Mel quipped, shoving to her feet. “You’re lucky I didn’t tell him to call you ‘Mrs. Sullivan.’”

  Mo grunted, before shifting her eyes to the cup on the table.

  With a mock sigh, Mel picked up the glass and then held the straw to Mo’s lips. “If you get drunk, I’m taking you straight home. That’s your second glass of wine.”

  Mo took a sip and coughed, dribbling liquid on her chin.

  Wiping the wine away without fanfare, Mel said, “Christian brought a tree. We’re going to need your help decorating it, so lay off the sauce, okay?”

  The faintest smile ghosted the old woman’s lips as Mel turned her chair to face the wall where I’d placed the Douglas fir. Spotting the little tree, Mo jerked in her seat, her fingers working the fabric of her old gown furiously.

  “She’s excited,” Mel whispered to me as I hauled to my feet. She smiled the softest smile she’d ever given me, then popped up on her tiptoes to peck my lips. “Thank you.”

  Mo’s loud snort caught our attention. When it was apparent she was trying to choke out a few words, Mel rushed forward and lowered her head. After a long moment, she nodded, running her hand over her nana’s silver tresses.

  Mel straightened, her eyes moist and a pink flush staining her cheeks. “Um…I’ve got to go find something in my closet. Could you start setting up the tree?”

  “Of course.”

  After cutting away the netting with my pocketknife, I set the small tree in the stand and then turned to Mo to gauge her reaction. Blinking at the tree, a fine mist gathered in her eyes.

  She jerked when a loud crash sounded from the bedroom, her gaze darting to mine.

  “I’d better go see what your granddaughter’s gotten into.“ Mo’s watery eyes locked on mine and she blinked twice. When I cocked my head, she repeated the gesture and then cut her eyes to the bedroom.

  Two for ‘yes’, one for ‘no.’

  Some of the information Mel recited about her nana when we were on our way up the stairs came back to me. I guess the two blinks were Mo’s way of telling me to get my ass out of here and go help her granddaughter.

  I gave her a quick nod and then did just that. Finding Mel on the floor of her bedroom in front of her closet sorting through a box, I knelt beside her.

  “What are you doing?”

  She turned to me in a panic. “I can’t find the ornaments and the scrapbook,” she babbled as she tossed item after item on the floor. “I know it’s in one of these boxes…I just…I have to find it.”

  I touched her arm. “I bought ornaments. It’s—”

  “These are special.” Her voice cracked. “I have to find them for her…I have to.”

  Spying a box tucked into a corner on the shelf above Mel’s clothes, I stood up.

  As I plucked the carton from its hiding place, I read the label on the side: “Nana’s things.”

  Mel let out a relieved sigh as I placed the container on the floor. “Oh, thank God.”

  She ripped open the flap, the air leaving her body in a rush as she peered inside. I dropped onto my butt and watched as she carefully removed a worn box of ornaments. She lifted the lid and then ran her fingers lovingly over the little glass globes and other items.

  I tucked a swath of blond hair behind her ear. “Why didn’t you tell me, Mel?” She swung her gaze to mine, brows turned inward in confusion. “About your nana—you told me your family was gone.”

  In lieu of an answer, Mel removed a large scrapbook from the bottom of the container. Placing it on the floor between us, she opened the purple cover embossed with butterflies and flowers.

  A black and white photo of a girl with Mel’s eyes and smile stared back at me. She couldn’t have been more than fifteen. From the age of the picture, I knew it wasn’t Mel, though. It was Mo.

  Under the image, the caption: “Once Upon a Time…” was hand written in calligraphy.

  “I made this for her,’ Mel said softly. “So she wouldn’t forget.”

  She turned the page, revealing a collage of photos, some very old and some that looked almost recent.

  “This…” Mel choked, brushing her fingertips over the pictures. “This is the woman I remember.” Sniffling, she looked up at me. “The woman in these pictures is gone. But I’m sorry I didn’t introduce you sooner. Because she’s still an amazing person.”

  When Mel turned to the next page, I could feel the sadness wash over her like a tidal wave. She pointed to a photo of a man in his forties, perched on a stool in front of a keyboard on a small stage.

  “This is my granddaddy.” Her voice dropped to a near whisper. “He died of a heart attack seven years ago. Two years before nana got her diagnosis.”

  Shocked, I tipped forward for a closer look. “Was he a musician?”

  When Mel didn’t answer right away, I peered up at her. Tears rolled down her cheeks freely.

  Wicking away the moisture with the back of her hand, she nodded. “Yes, but he wasn’t famous or anything.” She met my gaze, smiling. “Not like some people I know. He just filled in whenever a band was short a keyboardist.” A proud grin replaced the sad smile. “He did work with the Eagles on the Hotel California album, though” She shrugged. “Along with a few other things. Taught me how to play the piano, too.”

  Scooting closer, I rested my chin on her shoulder. “You play the piano?” I chuckled. “And you didn’t feel the need to share?”

&nb
sp; She lifted her hand to cup my cheek. “So my stock’s risen because I can pound out a couple tunes on the keyboard?”

  Mel’s stock rose every time she touched me. At the moment, she was worth more than my entire portfolio, sizable as it was.

  She turned another page and stiffened, her back straight as a soldier.

  I zeroed in on a photo of a woman who could pass for Mel’s twin. “Who’s that?”

  “Harmony,” Mel replied with a sigh. “My mother.”

  Harmony and Melody…

  “Where is she?”

  Mel’s already rigid body turned stone still.

  “Most of her is scattered off the shore near Padre Island.” Mel dug through the container once again, producing a small velvet box. “But a little of her is right here.” She flipped open the lid, revealing a tiny brass urn no larger than her palm. “She died when I was five. Drug overdose.”

  I wrapped an arm around her waist while her fingertip skated over the musical notes etched into the brass urn under her mother’s name.

  “I’m…I’m so sorry, angel.”

  Mel closed the velvet box with determination. “Don’t be. I didn’t really know her. My grandparent’s raised me since the day I was born.”

  After a long moment, she turned her head slightly and our noses touched. “Go ahead.” The glimmer was completely gone from her eyes. “I know you want to ask something else.”

  My lips brushed the corner of her mouth as I jumped to the next logical step on the journey she was taking me on. “What about your dad?”

  She shuddered involuntarily. “I never met my father. Never even knew his name.” A bubble of humorless laughter tumbled from her lips. “But then, I’m not sure my mom did either. From what I understand he was just some guy she hooked up with on one of my granddaddy’s tours.”

  I pressed my forehead to her shoulder, wishing like hell I was anything but a musician. A guy like Melody’s father who hooked up with women on the road and never even bothered to catch their names.

  “I’ve never had a one-nighter, so you’re going to have to tell me how it goes.”

  Melody’s words from our first night rang in my ears. It was a miracle she didn’t lure me to her house and set me on fire, leaving me to burn like the asshole she probably thought I was.