They needed to quit acting juvenile. But Will couldn’t help it. He loved the sound of her laughter. And before their big talk last Sunday in the bakery, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever get to provoke it again. He wanted to hear it while he could, and never take it for granted.
The mother of the bride took the platform for her turn, and Will tried to tune her out so he wouldn’t be tempted to tease again.
He pressed a kiss against Charlotte’s hair instead, glad she had been able to accompany him tonight, and happier still that Julie was able to babysit Zoe and give her the chance to come. They really should do something special for her friend as a thank-you. She’d even helped deliver the desserts earlier, before whisking Zoe back to their apartment for a promised game of Chutes and Ladders. Maybe he’d pick up a gift card, or ask Melissa to make one of those crafty signs for her that she occasionally sold online.
Charlotte’s marshmallow caramel apple cupcakes, each perched in a slow-rotating miniature Ferris Wheel, had earned an entire table over on the side of the banquet room. She’d thrown in some of her favorite double-chip brownies for the chocolate lovers as a last-minute addition—a side effect of her good mood the last few days.
A few last-minute wedding gifts filled another table. Will shook his head. At this rate, Adam and Brittany would be set with appliances, gift cards, and kitchen towels until their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. Did newly married couples really need that much stuff?
Eloping was starting to look pretty good.
He slid his arm around the back of Charlotte’s chair. Make that really good.
Brittany’s mother finished her speech, blinking back tears as she expressed her joy over the upcoming ceremony. That was sweet. Sounded like something his mom might have said at Melissa’s rehearsal—had either of them been able to make it. He sobered, hating how the past seemed to constantly rear its head during moments like this—moments he should be able to just enjoy.
He shoved away the familiar guilt and clapped along with the others as Brittany’s mom left the platform with instructions for everyone to hit the dessert table. He stood, pulling Charlotte’s chair back for her, just as his cell phone vibrated in his pocket.
He motioned for Charlotte to get in line ahead of him, then checked the caller ID. Melissa. That was strange—she knew he was at the rehearsal tonight. Maybe she hadn’t meant to call. But no, now that he looked at his screen, she’d already tried calling three other times while it had been set on silent.
His heart stammered. He quickly stepped in line behind Charlotte and jabbed the accept button, plugging one ear with his free hand as the volume in the room increased with laughter and exclamations over the desserts. “Melissa? I can barely hear you.”
“Will.” Her voice, weaker than usual, registered faintly through the phone speaker. “I need help. I fell.”
Charlotte had no idea what had happened. She just knew there was no way Will could be driving the speed limit.
She watched the muscle in his jaw clench and unclench, watched his white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel, watched the agitated way he kept checking his rearview mirror as if daring a policeman to try and slow him down. “Is—is she okay?”
All she knew was they’d been standing in line to get a cupcake, when he’d grabbed her arm, said, “Melissa’s in trouble, we’ve got to go,” and ushered her out of the banquet room. It was the first time since she’d known him that he hadn’t opened the truck door for her.
He had barely given her time to climb in before he gunned it across the parking lot.
He either hadn’t heard her question or was ignoring her. She decided—for once—not to assume the worst, and repeated it. “Will? Is she okay?”
“I don’t know.” He bit the words off sharper than he probably meant to, but he didn’t apologize.
“What happened?”
“Don’t know that either.”
Not a very productive phone call, then. Charlotte swallowed back her defensiveness and took a deep breath to attempt to calm her own nerves, reacting to his. He was obviously under a lot of stress and worried about his sister. She could forgive the lapse of manners.
And forget the questions. Guess she’d find out on the scene—wherever that was.
His truck screeched into the driveway of a small but cozy-looking yellow house. A wooden ramp climbed one side of the porch, concrete stairs laced in ivy on the other. A tiny picket fence lined the majority of the yard. He skidded to a stop and had his door open before the keys were even out of the ignition.
Charlotte hurried to catch up as he rushed toward the front door to what she presumed was Melissa’s house.
“Mel!” he bellowed, rattling the knob. “Mel! It’s me. Can you open the door?”
Charlotte’s heart rate kicked up a notch. What was going on? Had Melissa hurt herself? Had an accident? If so, why had she called Will and not 911? She didn’t understand.
“MEL!”
“It’s locked.” Her voice, tiny and exhausted, finally sounded from inside. She said something else Charlotte couldn’t catch, and she raised her eyebrows at Will. He shook his head, having missed it too. He looked ready to kick the door down.
“Do you have a key?”
“Yeah, somewhere.” He searched through his key ring, fingers shaking. “I never have to use it. She’s always home and has it unlocked when I come.” Judging by the trembling of his hands, he seemed full of enough adrenaline that Charlotte wondered if maybe he should kick in the door, just to release it.
He fumbled the keys twice, then dropped them. Charlotte took them from his unsteady hands. “Which one?”
“The red plated.”
She quickly inserted it into the lock and he wrenched the door open. “Mel! Where are you?”
“Kitchen.”
Charlotte followed him around the corner, through a cheerful living area decorated in aqua and coral. Melissa had good taste. She stopped short before she plowed into Will’s back.
“Oh, Mel.” This time, his voice sounded broken, more than angry or panicked. Then he rushed to her side, providing Charlotte her first view of Melissa, sprawled on the wooden floor. Petite, dark-haired, freckle-faced Melissa.
And the wheelchair on its side halfway across the kitchen.
“What happened?” Will’s hands hovered over her body, as if he wanted to help but wasn’t sure where to start.
“Don’t even ask.” She sounded more agitated than hurt. Clearly, the apple didn’t fall far from the Martin tree.
Melissa met Charlotte’s eyes and found a smile. “We meet at last. Didn’t expect it to be like this.”
“Me either. Can I help?” Charlotte stood near the kitchen door, afraid to get in the way.
“No, we’ve done this before, unfortunately.” Melissa winced as she attempted to move. “Just straighten my leg out for me, Will.”
He obliged, carefully. “Nothing broken?”
“How would I know?”
“Very funny.”
“I’m fine, Will. Was trapped, is all. I’m just glad my cell was in my pocket.”
Slowly he straightened her other leg. “Where’s the ambulance?”
Melissa motioned for Charlotte to bring her wheelchair closer. “I didn’t call them.”
“You what?”
Uh-oh. That didn’t sound good. Charlotte slipped into the kitchen and pushed the wheelchair toward them, remembering to lock the wheels before she parked it.
Will’s big-brother mode was nearing dangerous levels. “Melissa. You told me you called them already.”
“A little white lie. I knew you’d overreact.” She brushed her hair back from her face, wincing a little as Will lifted her into her chair. “I don’t need them, I’m fine. It just scared me when I fell. I didn’t mean to ruin your night.”
“Ruin my—are you kidding me?” Will stood upright, raking his hands through his hair. “This is madness. I knew you shouldn’t live alone.”
Charlotte backed
slowly across the kitchen as the facts began to snap into place. His close relationship with his sister. His doting on her, the weekly cookies, the sense of responsibility. His putting his life on hold for years. Melissa was handicapped, and for some reason, he’d taken that burden upon himself.
Melissa’s phone call made sense now. The last thing Melissa said before Will had interrupted them the other day in the bakery was, Will hasn’t told you?
No, he hadn’t.
The question was—why?
“Will, listen to yourself. What are my options? A group home? I’m fully capable of taking care of myself. You’ve renovated this entire house to be wheelchair friendly.” She grinned. “Just apparently not that particular spot.”
Will wasn’t laughing. “It’s not funny. You could have been hurt.”
“But I wasn’t.” The humor drained from Melissa’s face, and she threw her hands up. “What do you want? For me to live like you—terrified of every possible what-if?”
Will opened his mouth, then shot a glance at Charlotte as if remembering she was standing there. “Let’s talk in the living room, please.”
Charlotte couldn’t decide if she was grateful for the reprieve or offended that she wasn’t included.
Melissa mouthed I’m sorry at Charlotte and rolled herself toward the door. “Answer my question, Will.”
Their voices muffled as they relocated to the living room. Out of sight—but not out of earshot. Charlotte couldn’t help it. She pressed against the side of the door frame and listened.
“If being terrified of what-ifs keeps us all alive and safe, then yes. That’s just fine with me.”
Silence filled the living room. And then Will brought down the hammer. “I can’t handle any more of these phone calls, Mel. I’m moving in.”
“You’re what?” Melissa spoke the same words, in the same tone, that Charlotte mouthed silently to herself from the kitchen.
“I’m moving in. This wouldn’t have happened if I’d been here. Nothing would have ever happened if I’d been there!”
“Will, don’t overreact.”
“I’m not. I should have done this a year ago.”
“Things are different now. You can’t move in with me.” Melissa’s voice lowered, but not enough. “You have a life—a life you deserve to have. You have a girlfriend!”
“Not anymore.”
Charlotte’s heart skipped a beat, then thudded back to life with all the finality of a door slamming. Slamming on her future. Her hopes.
And in that moment, she knew the answer to her own question.
He hadn’t told her about Melissa because deep down, he hadn’t expected to be around long enough for it to matter.
He didn’t mean it.
The words flew out of his mouth, hard and flippant and so foreign he didn’t recognize his own voice in them. He ducked his head, covering his face with his hands as the pressure of the last several years settled hard. Like Atlas, holding the weight of the world. What had he become? He was standing in his sister’s living room—the living room he’d renovated for her, the living room she’d worked hard to decorate and make her own afterward, to make normal, to make cheerful—yelling at her.
All while verbally disowning the only other female who had ever brought joy to his life.
“Will.” Melissa’s voice, calm and even, brought him back from the ledge as it’d done a hundred times before. Maybe a thousand. “Will, sit down.”
He obliged, mostly because of his guilt, partly because he knew she hated people looking down on her—literally or figuratively.
She wheeled closer to him on the couch. “You can’t fix me.”
“I know. I know.” Why did she have to keep reminding him of the obvious?
“So stop trying, big brother. You know I love you, but you have to quit trying.” She reached across her lap and grabbed his hands. “You have an amazing woman in that kitchen right now, and if you don’t get your head out of your you-know-where, you’re going to lose her.”
“I don’t want to lose her.”
“Then let me go. You can’t hold her hand if you’re still holding mine.” She pointedly looked down at their clasped hands resting on his knees.
He squeezed tighter. “You’re my sister.”
“And I have my own life. I’m fine, Will. I’m happy. And I’d be even happier if you’d settle down already and quit being Free Willy. Save all of us a little drama.”
He shook his head, hating that stupid nickname that kept coming back to haunt him. But when it came down to it . . .
“Mel, I’d rather be Free Willy for the rest of my life than you be alone another minute.”
“Pssh.” She shook her hair back from her face, taking on an intentionally haughty expression. “I know I’ve still got it. Some man is going to be lucky to marry me.”
There was the sister he knew and loved. Will allowed himself a smile. “He’ll need a manual, that’s for sure. I should start writing that now, actually. Save him the trouble.”
Melissa laughed. “See? He’s coming. We both know it. I might not get married as soon as I’d planned once, but you know what, Will?” She tugged at their joined hands until he met her eyes. “If my ex couldn’t handle the ‘for worse’ before we even got married, then he sure as heck doesn’t deserve my ‘for better.’ I’ll wait for the guy who can.”
He’d never thought of it that way—that being jilted by her fiancé after the accident could have been a blessing in disguise. Melissa always chose to view the hard things in life that way. He could learn a lot from her.
But it still wasn’t right that he didn’t have to pay the same price Melissa did. He gripped her hands tighter. “It was my fault.” His voice hitched. Had he ever owned that to his sister before? He’d admitted it a thousand times in his own head, but out loud? He wasn’t sure.
“What was your fault?”
“The wreck. Your accident.” Unshed tears slashed at his throat. “It’s all my fault.”
Confusion filled Melissa’s face. “Will. That’s crazy. You weren’t even there.”
“Exactly. I was supposed to have picked you up.” His words tumbled over themselves. “If I had been there, you wouldn’t have gotten a ride with Taylor.”
He remembered that night all too well. He had promised to pick Melissa up from the New Year’s Eve party at her work. She didn’t want to drive herself and park and walk in the rain while dressed up, and her fiancé had been out of town on business. So Will had agreed to come get her before midnight.
But he’d been at his own party, living it up with friends he didn’t even talk to anymore, friends whose names he couldn’t even remember. Flirting. Pitting girls against each other to compete for him. Being a womanizing jerk. And he’d forgotten his promise. It was well after midnight that he remembered, saw all the missed calls on his cell, and tried to call her back. He couldn’t reach her—but the police finally reached him, and that particular call changed his life forever.
“I was the one who refused to wait for you and asked Taylor for a ride home. I knew how he felt about me. I should have known he’d start a fight about me being engaged.” Melissa shook her head. “You know all this, Will. Yeah, maybe you should have picked me up, but I shouldn’t have asked Taylor to drive me. And Taylor shouldn’t have gotten so agitated while driving. And the person who hit us shouldn’t have been speeding. There were a lot of mistakes that night.” She squeezed his hands. “But it wasn’t your fault. It was an accident. You have to let it go.”
It couldn’t be that easy. That simple just to . . . let it go. What would he even do without the weight of guilt anymore? It had been his constant companion for years.
He tried the idea on for size. It wasn’t his fault. Melissa’s accident wasn’t his fault.
It wasn’t his fault.
The burden shifted a little. He closed his eyes. It wasn’t his fault. He didn’t have to stay under it anymore. He was free.
He took a deep bre
ath.
Free to live his life.
He slowly released Melissa’s hands.
Free to let Melissa live hers.
He turned his palms up to the air.
Free to love Charlotte.
Charlotte. His eyes flew open. Melissa must have been on the same page, because she immediately rolled her chair back so he could stand up. “Charlotte? It’s safe to come out now!”
No answer. No footsteps. No shuffling.
In fact, it had been quiet in there for some time. Too quiet.
Melissa's grin faded. They looked toward the front door at the same time. Open a crack.
Will’s heart thudded painfully against his chest as he leapt to his feet. “Do you think she heard—”
Melissa nodded. “Yep.”
Will closed his eyes, sinking back onto the couch. It was too late. He’d blown it. “I’m an idiot.”
Melissa patted his arm. “Don’t worry. I already told her that.”
The last thing Charlotte wanted to do was deliver the cake to Adam and Brittany’s wedding. She wanted to stab it with a knife. Maybe don sweatpants, grab a fork, and eat every bite of it, all by herself.
And yet, underneath the anger threatening to boil over at Will's rejection, she understood it. Understood the helplessness and fear that drove someone to make such a decision. Hadn’t she almost made the same one about him? She understood it and hurt for him.
And that just made her even madder.
Charlotte parked the van and stared at the vintage barn that had become the city’s most popular wedding venue, where Adam and Brittany would be saying their vows in just a few short hours. Julie climbed out of the passenger side. “Ready, Boss?”
Not even a little.
She got out of the van.
Julie pulled the rolling cart out of the back. Hopefully they’d be able to get everything inside the reception area of the barn without pushing over too many bumps. At least the ground looked relatively level between the van and the door.
Love Takes the Cake Page 8