Melody of Us

by A. L. Wood

  I can fix you.

  I can fix us.

  Remember the days when we were inseparable? We completed each other. You still complete me.

  I’ll still complete you, I swear.

  I can’t allow this letter to be my last words to you. I won’t put everything I want to say down on paper. I want you to talk to me.

  Please, talk to me.

  If you want to hear what I have a say, if you think that I have a chance at fixing us- meet me where we began.

  I’ll be waiting for you in our spot.

  Love

  Forever & Evers,

  A.B.

  Anson

  She read it, I know she did. I think to myself as I climb the tree in between our childhood homes. We began on the rooftop. The same rickety slates cover the house, we could fall through but I’ll risk testing it out for us before she gets here, if she does come.

  I’ll know soon.

  I have to fix us.

  Lyrik

  I pull onto the side of the road a couple houses down from where Anson is. He didn’t have to specify the rooftop for me to know where he wanted to meet.

  I’m choosing to meet him because what if what he said is true? What if he does have the power to choose his schedule now, and he can choose not to leave so often.

  He can choose to stay.

  He chooses me.

  I have to know.

  Some would say that I’ve lost my pride along the way, but that’s not the case. That’s always been intact, that’s why I’m here now.

  Chasing after what I want.

  Even with all of the hate and love, he is still what I want.

  I exit my car and slowly walk up the sidewalk, I know that once I reach his house he’d be able to see me and knowing Anson he’d be looking out for me.

  When I reach his house, I stop.

  He deserves this.

  The not knowing if I will climb up that tree to speak with him.

  He looks down at me, concern and questions in his eyes.

  That’s enough.

  I walk to the base of the tree and reach up to a branch, hoisting myself up, when I reach the branch that meets the roof he grabs my hands and pulls me to him.

  “I didn’t know if you’d come. I was hoping you would, and I’m so fucking happy that you did.”

  “I read your letter,” I say.

  “Was hoping that you’d listen when I wrote, just read it.”

  “I’m here because I want to be. Because I don’t want to throw our entire lives away, if you’re serious about this thing between us.”

  “I am serious,” he claims.

  “I mean it Anson. Don’t say that you love me now then leave and hurt me again. I can’t do it another time. There’s not much left to my heart, but I’ll give it to you as long as you promise to protect it,” I tell him. Tears fall from my eyes at the severity in the meaning of those words.

  “I promise.”

  “Forever?”

  “Forevers.”

  Lyrik

  “Before I say yes, I need you to answer one question,” I say to Anson while he’s on bended knee outside my childhood bedroom window near the tree. Our bedroom now as we purchased the house and completely remodeled it.

  “What’s that?”

  “Are you going to climb that tree and get up here?” I ask.

  He stands, brushes his knees off pockets the ring I hadn’t seen yet and begins the short climb. He lands on the roof before my window.

  “Will you marry me?” He asks again as he pulls the ring out of his pocket.

  The ring is beautiful, a small princess cut diamond in the center of a white gold band. It’s not the ring that concerns me though, or results in my immediate, “Yes.”

  It’s his eyes.

  The beauty and love, kindness and compassion, for life. The love he has for me is staring straight into my eyes.

  I love him, forever and evers, he’s mine.

  Dear Reader,

  While this book is certainly fiction, there is a love like Anson & Lyrik’s out there. My own love story inspired Melody of Us. My husband and I have been together for many years, which equals thousands of letters to one another.

  This book is special to me for that very reason.

  Anson and Lyrik have their own type of love where they’re always waiting for the other to be ready because they know what they have is special. If there’s anything I’d want you to take out of this it’s that love is all around you all the time.

  It doesn’t have to be a relationship.

  Don’t take that love for granted.

  I hope that you, too, find your own Melody.

  Love,

  A.L. Wood

  Acknowledgements

  Melody of Us was the product of many special people and I couldn’t have created this without them.

  Chad Wood, thank you for loving me and writing thousands of letters on reply to me.

  Payton Wood, one day you’ll get to read those letters.

  Christina Bancroft, you are the best friend a best friend could have, you’re a part of my puzzle.

  Amber LaBarge, thank you for being the best most supportive sister.

  Jen Lum, for reading everything that I write, you help make my words shine.

  Emma Mack, for not only editing but for listening to me go on and on about this book.

  Cassy Roop, the cover is beautiful and does Melody of Us justice, thank you.

  More From A.L. Wood

  An excerpt from Honestly Unfaithful #1

  Chapter One

  Maggie

  “This is bullshit,” I say out loud to no one in particular, not that anyone is listening anyway. I’m new here, haven’t even had a chance to check out the local hot spots, so to everyone around me I am invisible.

  When you decide to move halfway across the country and transfer into a college where everyone knows each other, you’re bound to be stared at while sitting in the waiting room of the administration office at Duke University.

  It’s not like I wanted to move nearly three thousand miles away; Jake had left me no choice. Jake was my boyfriend, as in past tense.

  Was.

  I thought I had it all mapped out. I’d end up marrying my now ex-long-term boyfriend one day. We’d have two children, and we’d live in a modest house while maintaining successful careers. All before we were thirty.

  Jasper, Indiana wasn’t a large city, and unless you’ve heard of Scott Rolen—chances are, you haven’t heard of Jasper, either. There, everyone knows everyone. Jake and I grew up together, started dating in middle school, and graduated head over heels in love. We agreed to take a year off after high school.

  We traveled all over the United States for that year, Jake’s parents covering every expense as a part of our graduation gift. When our year was up, we found a small one-bedroom apartment, moved in together, and began college.

  That’s where our future began going slowly downhill.

  It was little things at first. Twenty-one questions if I came home late from a night of studying with a group; accusations if I had to stay later at work. Then, before I knew it, his issues escalated. He lost all the trust he had for me and wanted to control everything I did, all of the time. It was like a switch was flipped the day I signed my name with his on the lease for our apartment.

  I made excuses.

  That it was just his way of showing me how much he cared.

  Excuses upon excuses.

  Until the night I ran.

  Months of one-sided arguments blew the fuck up. I was always so busy studying or working or being the great girlfriend, that I wanted a break. Just one night out with my girlfriends—Jake knew about it. I had to tell him the exact bar I would be in, the time I would arrive there, and the time I would be leaving. He had to know how I would get home and at what precise time I would be walking through the front door. Everyone’s numbers were to be left with him in case he couldn’t reach me via my cellphone.<
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  It was ludicrous, all of it.

  But I did it anyway, because I loved him and I was determined to make us work.

  Flash forward: I’m at the bar and it’s fifteen minutes past the time I said I would be getting home. I unlocked my cell phone to send Jake a text, letting him know that I was sorry for being late and I was on my way. I’m greeted with eighty-seven missed phone calls and fifty-eight unread text messages.

  All from Jake.

  Instead of calling or sending him a text message, I decided to just leave the bar, grab a cab, and get my ass home.

  I predicted that being late would mean I was going home to an all-night one-sided argument where I would have to defend that I was a twenty-one-year-old college student with a boyfriend. Not an old shut-in lady.

  I wasn’t expecting his visceral anger.

  When I got home, Jake must’ve been stewing. Before I knew it, Jake had grabbed hold of me and slammed my head into the wall numerous times. Before I blacked out, the first thought I had was, This is not the man I fell in love with. When I finally stirred awake, I found my wrists tied to the frame of our bed. He was lingering over me with his hands raised as if he were to hit me. I flinched; I didn’t want him to hit me again. But he gestured and screamed in my face that he “wasn’t going to ever let me step foot out of the apartment again, for as long as he lived.”

  I knew I had to find a way to leave. His promise to keep me locked away forever was a real fear.

  I was tied to that bed for two long, arduous days, left to sit in my own filth as punishment for my “transgression” of disobeying his order to come home right away.

  I manage to convince him I wouldn’t leave the house ever again.

  Luckily, he had classes and I was untied. I packed the necessities as fast as I could and ran. Ran as far away as I could before he could find me.

  Now, here I am, waiting to see someone in administration about graduating this year with my degree.

  “Margaret Whitaker?” a middle-aged woman with glasses calls out my name.

  I follow behind her, taking a seat in the chair across from her desk.

  “I see that you are a new transfer and are wanting to graduate a semester early. Is that correct?” she asks while glancing at my transcripts.

  “Yes, that’s correct.”

  “Well, to be honest, looking at your files, you’re on the right path for earning all of your credits to graduate early. The only thing that will be in your way is that you need to have a completed internship.”

  “An internship?”

  “Yes, although it is kind of late to apply for one, coincidentally I have had an opening to an internship in the physiology department under Professor Jackson.”

  “But my major doesn't have anything to do with physiology,” I argue. “Please, I need to graduate.”

  They should let me graduate by default because they can’t offer an internship that goes along with my degree.

  I can see the sympathy etched on her face. Maybe my desperate pleas will help? “It doesn’t have to, honey, you can intern anywhere. As long as you do the internship and receive a letter of completion it will go toward your credits for graduation. Professor Jackson is one of the nicer professors to intern under. He will be patient with you since he knows you are majoring under another department. Now, you can apply and see what will come of it, or you can go back to your dorm room and try to figure this out for yourself. What’s it going to be?”

  I shuffle my feet, trying to decide. Having made up my mind, I look back up and reach out for the application.

  About the Author

  A.L. Wood the “Accidental Serial Writer,” resides in Queensbury, NY with her wonderfully supportive husband and just as creative daughter. If you can’t find her writing, reading, listening to music you can find her traveling the world with her family. A.L. Wood is always working on the next book and loves connecting with her readers. Be sure to read her twisty rollercoaster ride of emotionally charged books.

  You can follow A.L. Wood on Facebook here: https://www.facebook.com/ALWood

  Find out about New Releases and Author Events at https://www.alwoodauthor.com