“I tried, Mel. I spent hours—two full days—just talking to you, letting you know I was here waiting for you to wake up. I’ve never been so scared in my entire life. I’m so sorry I wasn’t here when you woke up.”
“Don’t. Don’t do that. I know you were here the whole time, and I know your mom and Joan had to force you to go get some sleep, and I’m glad for it. I never want you to not take care of yourself. Because you—you are the most important person in the world to me. And I kinda care what happens to you.” She grins.
“Just kinda?” I tease.
It’s like nothing has happened and she’s still the same ole Melanie she’s always been, not a girl who just spent three days unconscious and nearly died from hypothermia. She’s so resilient. So strong.
Much stronger than I’ll ever be.
“They told me you’re the one who found me. That if you hadn’t I would have been dead within an hour.” She falls serious again, fighting back tears. “I’m so sorry you had to see me that way. I can’t imagine how scared you must have been. But I’m not sorry you found me. Because if you hadn’t I wouldn’t be here right now—talking to you, touching you. So thank you. Thank you for saving my life.”
“How could you have been so reckless?” I scorn her without a trace of anger in my voice. “You risked your life, and in turn mine, all for a dirty, little kitten?”
“Did you get him?” she abruptly asks, pulling away to look around like it’s going to appear magically. “The kitten, is it okay?”
“You just spent three days unconscious, and you’re still worried about that damn kitten?” I can’t help the laughter in my voice. After all we’ve been through over the past few days, I have to find humor somewhere.
“You said it yourself, I risked my life for it. Now, did you get it?”
“One of the firefighters rescued him and took him to the local vet. And then Corrine being Corrine went and adopted the damn thing so she could give it to you when you woke up.”
“So it’s a he? And he’s okay?”
“He’s perfect, and he’s all yours when you’re ready for him.” I smile, tucking her hair over her shoulder.
“You’re going to let me have a kitten in your beautiful apartment?” she asks, cocking her eyebrow up in question.
“Our apartment,” I remind her.
“Wait, did I agree to move in with you?” I can see the playfulness in her eyes.
“Melanie.” I narrow my gaze at her.
“Fine, our apartment. Are you really going to let me bring a kitten home?”
“Will it make you happy?” I ask, unable to contain my smile.
“Yes,” she blurts out excitedly.
“Then yes. You can bring it home with us.”
Suddenly her arms are around my neck, and she’s pulling me into her embrace. She takes a deep, shaky breath and then lets it out slowly, holding onto me so tight I’m afraid she might hurt her broken arm.
“I love you, Cole Lincoln,” she says, her voice full of emotion.
“I love you, Melanie Anderson.” I smile, knowing I’ve never meant something more than I do those words.
The last twenty-four hours have been an endless parade of visitors. While Melanie smiles and acts like she’s perfect, I can tell she isn’t quite there. She gets tired really easy and dozes off every couple of hours between friends and family popping in.
I don’t leave her side for any of it.
Nurses and doctors are in every hour like clockwork, checking her vitals, giving her fluids and oxygen. I naively believed that once she woke up everything would be okay again, but there are pretty severe complications that accompany someone who’s suffered hypothermia. On top of having fluid in her lungs, the doctors are monitoring her heart rather closely checking for any signs of an irregular heartbeat. So far everything looks good, and the doctors seem hopeful that she’ll make a full recovery. Thank God.
It’s just after ten p.m. when she finally wakes again after a three hour stint. I watch her eyes flutter open as she blinks into the dimly lit room. It takes only seconds for her gaze to find me in the chair next to her bed.
“Hey,” she says, her voice still thick with sleep.
“Hey.” I lean forward and brush a hair from her cheek with the back of my hand.
“I fell asleep again.” She yawns.
“You need your rest.” I take her hand, careful not to disrupt the I.V. port they moved from her arm to her hand a few hours ago.
The nurse said her vein gave out, so they had to move it to a new one. I freaked out at first, but apparently it’s not an uncommon thing, and the nurse didn’t seem the least bit concerned or fazed by it. Most importantly it didn’t really seem to bother Melanie, and that’s all I really care about.
“I’ve been resting for three days.”
“But your body is still healing. The doctor said you’ll need a lot of rest in the days to come.” I lift her hand and kiss her knuckles.
“I had a dream,” she states, not elaborating beyond it.
“What did you dream about?” I ask.
“Michael.” She turns her head, looking off into the distance. “He talked to me, told me that I needed to stop nearly killing myself because if I die then there would be no one left to keep your dumb ass out of trouble.” She smiles, turning her head back toward me.
“Who’s he calling a dumb ass?” I huff.
“He said he always knew we’d end up together. That he’s known ever since we were kids. He’s glad you finally got your head out of your ass and manned up.”
“He was always the king of busting my balls.”
“You know, I never really understood that phrase.” She shakes her head.
“Believe it or not, it actually stems from something that cattle operators do as a form of castration. They physically bust their balls.” I cringe and so does she.
“Why do you know that?”
“Because I’m full of useless information.” I grin.
“That’s sick.” She crinkles her nose as a shiver runs through her.
“Are you cold?” I stand, prepared to go get her an extra blanket.
“No, I’m traumatized because of what you just told me.” She seems thoroughly repulsed which only makes me smile wider.
“Okay. Tell me more about the dream.” I settle back into my seat. “That should get your mind off of it,” I suggest.
She sucks in a slow breath, pulling off the nasal oxygen tube and letting it drape around her neck.
“It was so weird. We just talked for what felt like forever and yet no time at all. There was nothing around us, no part of our surroundings that I can remember, but it felt like we were somewhere important.” She pauses for a brief moment before continuing. “He said he’s happy. That he’s at peace.” Her eyes instantly glaze over. “That we don’t need to worry about him anymore.” She wipes at one solitary tear that escapes her eye.
“Mel.” I squeeze her fingers.
“I know. It was just a dream. But, Cole, it felt so real.”
“Then maybe it wasn’t just a dream. Maybe it was Michael’s way of letting you know that you don’t need to worry about him anymore.”
“Do you think so?” she asks, her bright eyes wide with curiosity.
“Considering everything that’s happened over the last few days, I’d say anything is possible,” I reassure her. “Did I tell you that when I woke up at Joan’s, before I even looked at my phone or spoke to anyone, that I knew you were awake?”
“How?” Her voice is quiet, a whisper into the air around us.
“I don’t know how to explain it. I just had this, I don’t know, this feeling. It was overwhelming, and I just knew.”
“I love you.” She smiles softly at me, reaching up to scratch her fingers through my beard. “God, I love you so much.”
“And I love you. Always have. Always will.” I turn her hand up and kiss her palm before wrapping my fingers around hers. “You were the first girl I
loved— the only girl I’ve ever loved—and I know with complete certainty that you’ll be the last as well. I will die loving you, Melanie Anderson. Because this,”—I tap my chest with my free hand—“this is yours. I gave it to you at ten-years-old, and I don’t ever want it back.”
She untangles her fingers from mine and pulls me up into the bed with her. Making sure not to get tangled in her I.V. wires, I turn on my side and snuggle in next to her so we’re lying face to face.
She reaches out and takes my hand, placing my palm flat against her chest.
“This is yours.” She repeats my words. “I gave it to you at ten-years-old, and I don’t ever want it back.”
“Good,”—I lean forward, smiling against her lips—“because I’m never giving it back,” I whisper, kissing her softly before resting my head on the pillow with hers, our foreheads touching.
It only takes about thirty minutes before sleep claims my beautiful girl once again. I don’t move an inch as I watch her.
I’m overwhelmed with the amount of love I have for this girl. And I’m terrified because I know now that if I lose her, I’ll never recover. It’s scary being that dependent on another human being. But if there’s one person in the world I want to depend on, and for her to depend on me, it’s Melanie.
It’s always been Melanie.
It will always be Melanie.
We may not have done it in the most graceful way, but we fell just the same. We made so many mistakes along the way, I made so many mistakes, but I’m done fighting this. I’m done complicating it and running out of fear.
It’s not always about how we fall, it’s about where we end up once we land.
“Are you sure you don’t want any help?” I laugh, watching Cole trying to fold my clothes and place them into the tub in front of him. Most articles go in looking like rolled balls rather than nice, neat folds.
Cole insisted we start the moving process pretty much the minute I got out of the hospital. He said he needs to make sure he’s close by the next time I decide to go out trying to rescue animals.
“Nope. You are not moving a muscle.” He narrows his eyes at me from across the room.
“I’m not incapable of folding clothes you know?”
“Mel, you’ve got a broken arm.” He gestures to the cast on my arm that will be in place for at least another three weeks.
“And?” I question. “I can bend my elbow,”—I make a show of it by bending my arm up and down—“and I can move my fingers.” I wiggle them at him. “If you’re going to insist I move in with you this very second, the least you can do is let me help you pack all my things. I may not have awful OCD, but I swear every time I watch you fold something I tick.”
“What are you saying? You don’t like how I fold.” He fakes offense.
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.” I laugh.
“In my defense, I hang everything in the apartment, other than towels and boxers. Who cares if a towel or underwear isn’t folded perfectly? Besides, I can fold better than this, I’m just anxious to get it done.”
“Which is precisely why you should let me help you,” I argue.
“We’ve already discussed this,” He reminds me. “You can’t just jump back in and start doing everything you used to do. You’ve only been out of the hospital for two days and the doctor told you that you have to take it easy.”
“Sitting on my butt folding clothes is easy,” I smart off, laughter bubbling in my voice.
“Keep pushing it, and I’ll lock you in your bedroom until I’m finished.” He waves a finger at me playfully.
“I dare you to try.” I can see the challenge flare behind his eyes, but he makes no attempt to act on it.
It’s been three weeks since I woke up, and he’s still treating me like I’m some fragile piece of glass that can’t lift a finger or I’ll shatter into a million pieces. It’s sweet, and I love that he wants to take care of me. But the independent, head strong person I’ve always been is having a hard time letting him.
“I tell you what. If it’s bothering you that much, I’ll let you fold the shirts. But pants, sweaters, anything even remotely heavy is all mine,” he offers, finding an alternative he deems acceptable.
“Deal.” I’m off the loveseat and onto the other side of the couch before he can say another word, a large pile of my clothes now sitting between us.
I immediately get to work on folding shirts, thankful to have something to do to keep myself busy.
As nice as it is finally being out of the hospital and away from the chaos, I find myself rather restless at the same time. I guess I still haven’t processed that things are finally starting to resemble normal again. Well, as normal as they can be considering I’m up and moving an hour and a half away with little to no prep time.
David was happy to hear of my decision to move, considering I’ll now be much closer to where he lives. He stayed in town for a full week after I woke up. I swear between him and Cole I was never alone. Sometimes I was grateful for it, other times I just felt like I needed a moment to catch my breath.
Matt didn’t linger; him and his wife, Christy, took off within a couple days of arriving. It was good to see them, but I was also glad to see them go. Matt and I have never been that close, so seeing him for the first time in months in my condition wasn’t ideal. It did warm my heart to know that when push came to shove, he was there for me. That has to mean something, right?
John never made it home from Europe, but I didn’t mind. He called me a couple nights after I woke up, and he sounded really happy. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for him. He was always a bit of a free bird. It’s nice to get to see him spread his wings.
Joan and Corrine still visited every day, and Kyle popped in a couple times each week to visit for a few minutes. He’s been working himself to the bone recently with work being so demanding and then all the projects he’s taking on at the house. I swear that man never stops.
Little by little everyone seemed to start returning to their normal lives. Everyone except for Cole. Like I said, he never left my side.
His boss was completely understanding of the situation and granted Cole a temporary leave of absence. He’s scheduled to return next week, but I can already tell he’s nervous about leaving me. I hate that I put him in a position to have to worry about me.
At the end of the day, even I have to admit that trying to worm my way down a steep embankment covered in snow was not my best decision ever. What can I say? Sometimes I act first and then think second. It’s an Anderson curse.
“I know it can’t be easy for you, Mel.” Cole speaks after several moments of silence have passed, pulling me from my thoughts. “You have always been so independent, and I know how much you hate having someone take care of you. But I hate to tell you that you might as well get used to it because I plan to take care of you every day for the rest of our lives.”
“I want you to take care of me, and I want to take care of you. But there’s a difference in taking care of each other versus doing absolutely everything for the other person. Right now, I’m lucky if you let me go to the bathroom alone.”
“I worry about you.” He turns his face in my direction, abandoning a pair of jeans mid-fold.
“I know you do, and I love you for it. But, Cole, look at me. I’m fine. I’m healthy. I feel really good. You can’t coddle me forever.”
“I can try.”
“You’ll fail,” I state matter of fact.
“You’re so stubborn Mel.” He wrinkles his forehead in the cutest way, making him look almost like a teenager again.
“And yet you love me anyway.” I smile.
“So much it hurts,” is his only response.
“I think this is the last one,” Cole says, appearing from the hallway carrying a large moving box.
“It looks so empty in here,” I say, leaning in the kitchen doorway as I look around the hollow space that used to be my living room.
“Not having second thoughts
on me now are you?” He stops, setting the box on the floor just a couple feet from where I’m standing.
“Not even a little bit,” I answer honestly.
“Good,”—he closes the distance between us, pulling me gently into his arms—“because you’re stuck with me forever now,” he says, securing me against his sweaty frame as he drops a kiss to the top of my head.
“Eww, you’re so wet.” I squirm in his grip, but he doesn’t let me go.
“You love my sweat, baby.” He looks down at me with a wide grin.
“In all fairness I love every part of you.”
“And damn if I’m not the luckiest man on earth because of it.” He kisses me good and deep, the action sending a sudden rush of longing through my body.
It’s been so long since we’ve gotten any alone time. I have to admit I’m rather anxious to get to Cleveland, for more than one reason. I physically crave Cole’s touch in a way I’ve never craved anything before.
“Get a room!” The statement echoes through the empty house, and we quickly pull apart, our heads turning in unison to see Kyle standing in the front doorway.
“I think our dear friend here is onto something,” Cole says, looking down at me. “Maybe we should get a room. How about in our apartment where I can kiss you whenever and wherever I want without some asshole interrupting us.” He shoots a playful, angered look back at Kyle.
“Just be careful, you see where that got Corrine and me.” He laughs, referring to the baby.
“My point exactly,” Cole says, winking at me before stepping back and retrieving the box he set on the floor moments ago.
I’m so taken aback by his response that it takes me several beats to form actual words.
“I’m sorry, what?” I finally call after him, but he only laughs, his entire back shaking from the movement, before he disappears outside to load the box into the moving truck.
Certainly he’s not serious.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so damn happy,” Kyle says, pulling my gaze to where he’s still standing next to the door. “Or you, for that matter.”
How We Fall Page 24