by Rye Hart
If she had something she needed to talk about, then she would come to me. She did too much for this house—too much for me and the kids—for me to hold this weirdness over her head. Fuck her weird fear of the shed and fuck whatever she went through in the past. If keeping her around was helping her and this was what she wanted to do with her time, then I wasn’t going to stop her. The smile on her face was bright and the twinkle in her eye was proud, and I wasn’t about to rip that shit from her just because I was eager to know something she wasn’t ready to talk about.
“Melanie, this smells incredible,” I said.
“I hope you came hungry because there’s a lot of it,” she said.
“The kids go down for you all right?” I asked.
“Eh. Liam was a little ticked off about it, but he settled down.”
“Why was he upset?”
“He wanted to watch a movie to try and delay his bedtime, and I told him he could watch whatever part of the movie he could until the clock struck eight. Then, the movie was done and it was time for bed.”
“Oh. He really didn’t like that, did he?” I asked as I sat down.
“Nope,” she said. “Not one bit. Tried to bargain, then started pitching a fit. I let him cry in the hallway while I put Hadley down, then I just went through the motions. I washed him up, got him in a pair of pajamas he picked out, laid him down, sang his song, and turned out the light.”
“You’re so mean,” I said, grinning.
“I know,” she said, sighing. “It just comes with the territory.”
Melanie set a drink down in front of me before sitting across the table and picking up her fork.
“How did everything go in town?” she asked.
“Mm. It went well. Got all the projects delivered and picked up the rest of the payment.”
“The rest of it?” she asked.
“When someone orders something over five hundred dollars, I ask them to put up half the cost before the project. Then, the rest is paid upon delivery.”
“And you’ve never had a problem with that?”
“Not one bit. The people around here are willing to pay that way for quality work, so I always make sure to use the best woods and take my time with the projects. If I mess up and need more wood, it’s on me. Not them,” I said.
“I’ve seen some of the things you load up. They’re amazing. Have you always worked with wood?”
“I tinkered with it when I was a kid. But it quickly took a backseat when I realized I was good at I.T. stuff as well. In the city world, I.T. is king. But in places like this, handmade woodworking projects are. I’ve made everything from small chairs for daycares to massive king-sized bed frames.”
“That’s amazing to me. You know the creative side of your brain is just as important as the side that’s good with math and science. Creativity often unlocks intelligence,” she said.
“So, are you creative?” I asked her. I wanted to know anything and everything about her, even the most mundane details.
“Well I don’t know if I would call myself creative, but I do like to paint occasionally,” she said.
“What was the first thing you ever painted?” I asked her.
She laughed. “Um, that would be a rainbow when I was about eight. I didn’t have all the colors though so I tried to make a couple of them by mixing some of the other colors together. It ended up being the ugliest rainbow you’ve ever seen.”
“Do you still have it?” I asked.
She nodded. “Oh yeah, still hangs proudly on the fridge where my dad put it. He refuses to let me take it down.”
“Your dad sounds pretty great,” I observed.
She smiled and it reached all the way to her eyes. “He is. Maybe now that he’s feeling so much more like himself, you’d like to come meet him?” she asked, a hint of apprehension in her voice.
The question elated me though. The thought that she wanted me to meet her father set my heart skipping but I tried to play it cool. “Yeah, I think that would be great.”
We continued eating and making small talk over the delicious dinner she’d prepared and I again couldn’t get over how lucky I was that she had stumbled onto my porch in that storm.
She looked up at me and smiled, and I felt a sort of peace drape over the rest of our dinner. The reservations I had earlier this afternoon quickly faded into the background, and in their place was an awe that settled over me. The more I got to know this woman, the more I wanted to learn. There was so much about her that was uncharted and unknown to me, and I wanted to be privy to it all. I wanted to know what made her tick and what made her happy. I wanted to know what made her sad and what made her frightened. I wanted to know what she was like as a little girl and what she wanted to be when she grew old and gray.
But most of all, I wanted her to stick around long enough for me to figure all of it out.
CHAPTER 24
MELANIE
“Why does the shed scare you so much?”
His question caught me off guard and it caused me to drop the chip in my hand.
“Wh-what?” I asked.
“My shed out back. You’re scared of it. Why?”
Evan was looking straight at me while the kids played behind us. Liam was throwing a ball around, knocking things off shelves and running after it down the hallway, and Hadley was in her playpen probably chewing on something fuzzy. My attention was solely on Evan now that the question had been asked.
“I, uh—why—um—”
I had no idea how to answer him. In fact, I’d been completely blindsided. We had a fabulous dinner last night where we got to know one another a little better, and now he was randomly bringing up the shed?
“Look, Melanie. I know you’re scared of it for some reason, and that’s fine, you don’t have to go out there. I just wanted to know why,” he said.
“I don’t know if I want to tell you,” I said, breathlessly, refusing to meet his eyes.
“Why not?” he asked.
“Because it’s—it’s just—personal. Very, very personal.”
“I told you something personal. Things I would never tell anyone else.”
“Well, that was your choice,” I snapped, though I knew he was right and I wasn’t being fair.
“I don’t like letting people in, Melanie. But I enjoyed letting you in. And I know if you let me in the way I could with you, you’d enjoy it, too. Whatever it is you think is going to happen if you tell me, it’s not what you think.”
“Evan, I don’t know if—”
“Let me in, Melanie. Please.”
He reached over and took my hand and, for the first time, I didn’t want his touch. I pulled my hand away and cast my gaze into my lap, feeling panic overtake me for the first time in weeks. I was still afraid that when I told him, he’d look at me with pity and I just couldn’t risk that. Not after how far I’d come with him.
“I just can’t,” I said, whispering.
“Why, Melanie?”
“Because it’s something I still battle with daily. It’s something I always will. And I’m getting better with it. You’re living proof of that, but I’m just still not ready. And I know it’s not fair, but I’m sorry Evan. I just can’t, okay?”
I felt tears cresting the rims of my eyes as I slowly looked up at him. He was studying me.
“Melanie.”
His voice was full of hurt.
“Yeah?” I asked.
“I’ve let you in as far as I can. Farther than any person has ever gotten since I figured out what it meant to be betrayed by people I loved. But I can’t let you in any further unless you reciprocate. It isn’t right. You’re taking care of the kids and practically living with us and, on some level, I know you trust us. I know you know we would never think any differently of you, no matter what has happened. You can’t hide from me if I’m going to be with you. You have to let me in, or this isn’t going to work.”
And there it was. The bargaining with my past to somehow pr
ocure a future. It happened every single time. People thought they could use leverage to get into my life. To get me to open up about my past because they somehow thought I needed them. Well, I didn’t need them. I didn’t need Evan and I didn’t need this cabin. I didn’t even need the kids.
If this was the life I thought I was destined to live, then I’d been wrong once again.
“Fine,” I said.
Throwing my napkin down, I started for my room. I whipped open the door and started jamming things into my suitcase, fitting as much as I could before I backtracked down the hallway.
“Melanie, come on. That’s not what I meant.”
“You’ve made yourself very clear,” I said.
“Melanie, put the damn suitcase down.”
“You gave me your terms, and I’m abiding by them,” I said.
He grabbed my arm and whipped me around and I could feel the kids staring at me. Evan was trying so hard not to make a scene. His grip was solid but his eyes were pleading. Begging me to stay.
“I can’t be with someone who puts conditions on how long I have to heal,” I spat.
“Heal from what, Melanie? I don’t even know what the fuck you’re talking about! I poured my whole ugly past out to you, but you won’t give me the same courtesy. I trust you with these kids every single day, but you don’t trust me at all,” he said, his voice dripping hurt.
“That’s not true,” I told him, “I do trust you. I trust you more than I’ve trusted anyone in a long time.”
“Then let me in dammit!” he said, shaking me slightly.
“I can’t,” I said again.
He cast his eyes down and let go of my arm. When he raised his gaze to me once again, I saw a look of defeat in his eyes and it nearly broke me. “Then I don’t know how to fix this,” he said.
“You can’t,” I told him.
I grabbed my bag and walked out to my car, climbing behind the steering wheel and making it only about twenty feet before I burst into tears.
About forty minutes later I sat in Layla’s living room, sobbing hysterically while she tried her best to comfort me.
“Jesus, Mel,” she said, holding me close her as I cried. “You really like this guy, don’t you?”
I raised my head and looked at her. “I. Love. Him,” I said between sobs.
“Well, shit,” Layla blew out a breath. “Has anyone ever told you you’re an ugly crier?” she asked, trying to break the mood.
It worked, and I started laughing between the tears. “You’re an asshole,” I said to her as I wiped my nose on the sleeve of my sweatshirt. I’d clearly been spending too much time with little ones.
“So, you really love him, eh?” Layla asked when I’d calmed down a bit.
I nodded my head. “I do. Layla, he’s so good and so gentle, and you should see him with those kids.”
“And how does he feel about you?”
I shrugged my shoulders. “I thought maybe he loved me too, but if he’s willing to let me go then maybe—”
“Whoa, whoa,” Layla held up her hand and cut me off. “Listen, sometimes as your best friend, it’s my job to tell you when you are being a shithead. And, right now, you are being a total shithead.”
“Gee, thanks,” I said, knowing deep down that she wasn’t completely wrong.
Layla’s face turned serious, which it rarely did, so I knew she was about to impart some heavy shit. After everything she’d done for me, I owed it to her to listen.
“When you were taken, it was the single scariest time of my life. Of all our lives, really. Our friends, my parents, and your dad especially. We thought we might never see you again and I swear it was the longest two days of my life. When my parents called to tell me you were home safely, I broke down and cried in the middle of an economics test, I was so relieved. And when I heard what you’d been through, what he’d almost done to you before you escaped, part of me felt like I’d been through it too.”
I sat and listened quietly to her. In the past four years, she had never told me any of this, and I was left to realize that I wasn’t the only one who had suffered from that ordeal. I had been so focused on my own trauma that I didn’t stop to think how anyone else in my life had been affected by it. I can’t imagine the fear, anger, and helplessness I would feel if it had happened to Layla instead of me.
“I’m so sorry, Layla, I never knew how it affected you,” I said.
Layla shook her head. “Stop it. I’m not telling you this so that you feel bad. You went through hell and fought your way back from it. But I do have a question for you. How many of our friends at the time knew the full extent of what happened?”
I thought about her question for a moment. “None, except you,” I answered.
“And how many of those people are still in your life?” she asked.
I now understood where she was going with this and it made me feel like shit. “None.”
“You closed yourself off from almost everyone and it cost you a lot of people. Shit Mel, you’ve known Nancy and Kayla as long as you’ve known me. And you haven’t talked to them in four years. When you shut yourself off, you shut everyone out. No one knew how to help you because you never let them.”
“Because no one could help me. I just needed someone to listen, not to try and fix me,” I said.
“But did you tell them that?” Layla asked.
“No,” I said, feeling ashamed. She was right, I had shut everyone out of my life and then turned and blamed them when they went away. And I was doing the same damn thing to Evan.
“Oh my God, I’m such an idiot,” I said, putting my head in my hands.
“No, you’re not an idiot. A little slow maybe, but not an idiot,” Layla said with a smile.
I stuck my tongue out at her and laughed with her.
“You went through something horrible, but you won, Mel. You beat him, literally, if I remember correctly. Don’t let him take anything more from you. You’re finally starting to open up and let yourself feel things you never thought you would again. If this Evan is really worth it, you have to let him in, or you’re going to lose him too.”
“I know, I just have to figure out how to do it.”
“Take your time and do it when you’re ready. But don’t wait too long,” she told me.
Layla and I spent the rest of the afternoon catching up and by the time I left, I felt a lot better about the situation. I just hoped I hadn’t broken something that was too delicate to put back together.
CHAPTER 25
EVAN
The morning sun was streaming through the windows earlier than I wanted it to. Liam was knocking at my door, talking about his growling stomach. Hadley was crying over the baby monitor and, by the sounds of it, she had been crying for a while. I sprang to my feet and threw open the door, teetering on my feet as I pushed passed Liam.
Melanie’s absence was hanging heavily over this cabin.
I’d tried calling her multiple times but got no answer. She had finally texted me saying she needed a little time and would be in touch soon. I was filled with worry for her as I stood at the stove and fixed breakfast, and my soul felt empty again.