Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
MELODY
I wake to the sound of rain hammering against the cabin roof, nestled securely in Malik's arms. After our reconciliation, he stayed as promised, just holding me through the night. No demands, no expectations, just his solid presence keeping the fears at bay.
His breathing remains steady, but the tension in his body tells me he's awake too, listening to something beyond the rain. A crunch of gravel outside. Headlights sweeping across the windows.
"Someone's here," he whispers, already moving. He slips from the bed with practiced silence, pulling on jeans and retrieving something from his bag. A small handgun that he tucks into his waistband at the small of his back, hidden beneath his t-shirt.
"Stay here," he instructs, voice low but commanding.
I sit up, heart racing. "Malik, what if it's?—"
"I'll handle it." His eyes meet mine in the darkness. "Lock the bedroom door behind me."
He disappears into the hallway. I scramble into leggings and a sweatshirt, then hurry to the door and turn the lock as instructed. Through the thin wood, I hear Malik moving through the cabin, his footsteps nearly silent despite his size.
A sharp knock at the front door. Silence. Then another, more insistent.
"Washington residence," Malik's voice, deceptively casual.
"I'm looking for Melody." The voice that responds sends ice through my veins. Jason. Here. Now.
"It's three in the morning," Malik replies. "Come back during business hours."
"Who the hell are you?" Jason demands, his entitled arrogance evident even through the door.
"Security." Malik's answer is simple, factual. "Ms. Washington is not available."
"Bullshit. Her car's outside. I know she's in there." Jason's voice rises. "Melody! We need to talk about the ring!"
I press my hands against the door, trembling. The sound of his voice catapults me back to Toronto, to the shouting, the manipulation, the fear. But something is different now. I'm not alone.
"Last chance to leave peacefully," Malik warns, his tone dropping to that dangerous register I recognize.
"Or what? You'll call the cops?" Jason laughs. "Do you have any idea who I am? Who my family is?"
The sound of the door opening. Heavy footsteps. I can picture Jason barging in, thinking his wealth and privilege shield him from consequences as they always have before.
"I don't give a fuck if you're the king of England," Malik says, his voice deadly calm. "You're trespassing."
"I have every right to speak to my fiancée."
"Ex-fiancée," Malik corrects. "And she's made it clear she doesn't want to speak to you."
A scoff from Jason. "Let me guess. You're fucking her now? What are you, her bodyguard with benefits?"
My breath catches at the echo of my own cruel words from our fight. I unlock the bedroom door and step into the hallway, unable to hide while Malik faces my demons.
The scene in the living room freezes as I appear. Jason stands near the door, impeccably dressed even at this hour, his handsome face contorted with smug disdain. Malik stands between us, his stance casual but ready, a wall of muscle and controlled rage between me and my past.
"Jason," I say, voice steadier than I feel. "Leave. Now."
Jason's eyes narrow. "Not until we discuss what you did with my grandmother's ring."
"I left it on your kitchen counter with a note. If it's missing, that's not my problem."
"You expect me to believe that?" He takes a step forward, and Malik shifts subtly to block his path. "You're going to be in serious trouble, Melody. My father's lawyers?—"
"Are building a case for insurance fraud," I interrupt, finding courage in Malik's presence. "We know about the claim you filed. We have witnesses who saw me return the ring."
Uncertainty flickers across Jason's face before his expression hardens. "No one will believe you over me. Not in Toronto."
"We're not in Toronto." Malik's voice is soft but carries weight. "In Crimson Hollow, we protect our own."
"And what are you going to do?" Jason challenges, looking Malik up and down. "Beat me up? That would look great in court."
Malik smiles, and there's nothing warm in it.
"I don't need to touch you. I just need to call Jake Winters, head of security at Club Crimson, who happens to be monitoring your PI friend's movements.
Or Noah Kane, whose family owns half this town, including the hotel where you're staying.
Or Silas McCrae, the lawyer who's building a case against your family for insurance fraud and harassment. "
The color drains from Jason's face as Malik continues.
"But that's just business. Personally, I'd like to introduce you to Sage Harris, my daughter, who works at Bean & Bloom Café, where everyone in town gets their coffee and shares their gossip.
Or Jordyn Kane McCrae, who sits on the school board that hired Melody and happens to be married to the lawyer I mentioned.
Or perhaps the dozen or so security personnel who've been watching you since you crossed the town line. "
Malik takes a single step forward, and Jason retreats.
"And that’s not even mentioning what I’d do to you if they gave me the opportunity.
Crimson Hollow isn't Toronto, Mr. Mills.
Your family name means nothing here. Your connections can't help you.
And your money can't buy you out of the trouble you're in. "
"Are you threatening me?" Jason's voice wavers despite his attempt at bravado.
"I'm educating you." Malik's tone is almost conversational now. "Melody is under my protection. Under this town's protection. If you or your PI friend so much as look at her wrong, you'll find yourself facing criminal charges for harassment, stalking, and filing false insurance claims."
The reality of his situation seems to dawn on Jason. His gaze shifts to me, searching for the frightened, malleable woman he once controlled. Instead, he finds me standing tall, chin raised, unafraid.
"You've changed," he says, accusation in his tone.
"I've found my strength." I move to stand beside Malik, not behind him. "And people who value me for who I am, not what they can make me into."
Malik's hand finds mine, our fingers intertwining in a silent statement of unity. Jason's eyes track the movement, his lips thinning.
"This isn't over," he warns, but the threat sounds hollow.
"It is," Malik counters. "You're leaving town first thing tomorrow. Your PI friend is following you. And neither of you will contact Melody again. If you do, the consequences will be immediate and severe."
Jason glances between us, calculating his options and finding them limited. "Fine. Keep the damn ring. It's not worth the trouble."
"Goodbye, Jason," I say quietly. "Don't come back."
He turns to leave, but Malik's voice stops him at the door.
"Oh, and Mills? I'm not her bodyguard or her sugar daddy.
" His arm slides around my waist, pulling me against his side.
"I'm the man who loves her, and I don’t play around with the people I love.
So, fuck with her again and find out what that means. "
The declaration sends warmth flooding through me, chasing away the last chill of fear. Jason's face twists with impotent rage before he storms out, slamming the door behind him.
For a moment, we stand in silence, listening to his car start and gravel crunch as he drives away. Then Malik turns to me, his expression softening.
"You okay?"
I nod, still processing what just happened. "You said you love me."
His hands come up to frame my face, thumbs brushing my cheeks. "I do. Is that okay?"
"More than okay." I rise on my toes, pressing my lips to his. "I love you too."
His arms wrap around me, lifting me off my feet as he deepens the kiss. When we finally part, both breathless, he rests his forehead against mine.
"No more hiding," he says. "No more pretending this isn't real."
"No more," I agree. "I don't care what people say."
Morning arrives with sunlight streaming through the windows. After calling Jake to confirm Jason has checked out of his hotel and left town, Malik makes breakfast while I prepare for school. The routine feels domestic, comfortable, as if we've been doing this for years instead of days.
"Ready?" he asks as I gather my teaching materials.
"Almost." I straighten my blouse and smooth my skirt. "How do I look? Professional enough?"
His eyes darken as they travel over me. "Professional enough for your students. Distractingly beautiful to me."
I laugh, feeling lighter than I have in days. "Smooth talker."
The drive to school is peaceful, the mountain roads winding through forests painted with the first hints of autumn color. Malik's hand rests on my thigh, a warm reminder of his presence.
"You don't have to do this," I say as we approach the school. "You could drop me off a block away."
He glances at me, one eyebrow raised. "Is that still what you want?"
I consider the question, the fear of gossip and judgment that drove our fight. It seems smaller now, less significant after facing Jason.
"No," I decide. "I want to walk in with you. I want everyone to know."
His smile is worth any amount of whispers or stares. He parks directly in front of the main entrance, where students and teachers are already gathering for the day. Heads turn as we exit the vehicle, curious eyes tracking our movements.
Malik rounds the Jeep to meet me, unconcerned with the attention. "Have a good day," he says, voice carrying clearly in the morning air. "Dinner at my place tonight?"
"I'd like that." I smile up at him, no longer afraid of who might be watching.
He leans down, kissing me softly but thoroughly, right there in front of God and Crimson Hollow High School. When we part, the whispers have already started, but they don't matter anymore.
"I love you, Melody Washington," he says, loud enough for those nearby to hear.
"I love you too, Malik Harris," I reply just as clearly.
As I walk into the school, head high and heart full, I can feel the stares and hear the murmurs. But unlike before, they don't fill me with dread. Let them talk. Let them wonder. Let them judge.
I've found something worth fighting for, someone worth standing beside, regardless of opinions or obstacles. A man who sees me clearly, protects me fiercely, and loves me completely. A future built on honesty and courage rather than fear and hiding.
And that's worth all the gossip in Crimson Hollow.