Chapter Eight
CHAPTER EIGHT
Melanie
T he house is quiet when I wake up the next morning. Weston and I barely talked after we got back from the pharmacy, and he had no questions about what I picked up. Not that I really wanted to discuss it anyway, but him not even asking kind of hurts worse. I want him to be worried about me, to wonder why I needed to go to a pharmacy. In my own way, I was hoping it would open up an avenue of communication.
"Oh, Melanie," I sigh to myself, "what the fuck are you gonna do?"
I've never actually known since I left. I've been running for far too long. From myself, from my health issues, from my fears, and the control of my parents. When I left Weston, it was for a reason, and then after building a life in Montana, I had to leave there, too. All because of my parents. Hell, both instances were because of them. In the end, I'm just not even sure who I am right now, much less where I'm going or where I came from.
Getting out of bed, I put on clothes and stumble to the kitchen. On the counter, there's a note.
Hey Mel,
I had to go to work today. If you need anything just text me. Abel's fiancée Kara will be out here later. She needs to use my smoker. She's gonna let herself in so don't freak out. I'll see you when I get home.
W
My anxiety peaks already because I don't know who Kara is, but I know Abel and I also know that Abel probably had a lot to say about me. What has he told his fiancee? I haven't had friends in the last eight years, at least ones I could count on. Naively the one thing I didn't count on when coming back was this feeling of not being good enough. I don't know why, but I just imagined that I could step back into the situation that I was in previously. Weston would have greeted me with open arms and not have any questions about where I've been, which in hindsight is really fucking stupid.
But I'm keeping a secret, one that I'm not sure how Weston is going to react to.
Going to the bathroom, I pull out my stuff and prick my finger to check my blood sugar. He doesn't know that the day before I left, I was diagnosed as diabetic. At the time I was diagnosed, I had just watched my grandfather die and my grandmother fall into a deep depression because she lost the love of her life. As an impressionable eighteen-year-old, I hadn't been able to separate myself from what she had become, and I was terrified I would leave Weston in the same situation that she was in. My heart couldn't take it. So, I left and never looked back.
Now, I wonder what kind of damage I did and if I'm ever going to be able to fix it.
A few hours later, there's a knock at the door. I look out the window and see a really pretty girl standing there gazing in the back window. She smiles and gives me a wave.
I head toward the door, cracking it open. "Kara?"
She grins. "Yeah, that's me. You must be Melanie."
"I am," I nod, thankful to see a friendly face. "Come on in; I got a note from Weston that you would come by today."
"Yeah," she says casually, rolling her eyes. "I have a food truck, and my smoker went out, and it's the busiest time of year because places are packed. Everyone wants to come inside and get warm and there's not enough room, we tend to get overflow. We've set up a tent with a heater near the food truck and people have been coming by in droves." She pauses for breath. "You have no idea what I'm talking about, and you probably don't give a flying fuck. I'll be out of your hair as soon as possible."
"No," I motion her in, before having a seat at the kitchen table. I watch her with rapt attention. "I'm interested; I've only seen Weston since I got back, and he hasn't necessarily been thrilled to see me."
She glances over at me, her eyes full of sympathy. "I imagine not. I really don't know what went on between the two of you," she starts cautiously, "but I know Weston and the guys. If you left him, then you must have had a really good reason whether or not any of them want to admit it. They're loyal to a fault," she continues softly, "and to them there's nothing that could tear them apart, but that's not reality, right?"
I swallow roughly and shake my head. "No, it's not. Sometimes emotions and fear get the best of us." I try to hold back tears threatening to fall, but she's the first one who's greeted me with understanding and a friendly smile.
Coming over to me, she wraps her arms around me. "I don't know you, but you look like you need a hug," she says warmly. "And trust me, sometimes as ladies we need to get away from the guys, so believe me, you have people here. There's a whole group of us that deal with these Broken Falls men. I call them fuckers in my head, especially when they're being stupid about things and not wanting to look at situations from every angle. They're so damn stubborn."
I wipe at the tears pooling under my eyes. "That they are."
She holds up her finger. "One sec, I have to go grab my stuff from the car. I'll be right back."
When she comes back in, she has a tote full of stuff. I have no idea what's in it, but when she opens it, I smell spices and marinade. It's enough to make my mouth water. "Holy shit, Kara, what is that?"
Her smile is full of pride. "It's smoked birria that's gone viral on the internet. Sells like gold, keeps the food truck running without fail. Wanna help?"
"I've never worked food service," I admit, "but having something to do with my hands sounds good. Sure," I grin, feeling as if there's a reason for me being here. "I'd love to help."
She nods toward the seasonings. "Season till it feels right to your heart, then we'll get everything else prepared. By the end of the day, you're gonna be a birria master."
I glance up, thankful. "Whatever you need, Kara, thanks for including me." Somehow I'm emotional that she's actually asked me to be involved. I never realized until this moment how much I needed a friendly face.
She stops putting on black latex gloves, then reaches over, putting a hand on my shoulder. "Like I said, we stick together. If you ever need to get out of the house, let me know. I could always use extra hands at the food truck. It's not glamorous and sometimes we stink after a hard day, but it's honest work. We make pretty good money, too. The college kids that work for me have no complaints."
This is the first time in a long time someone has offered me friendship. Considering how lonely I've been, it would be stupid for me not to take this gift being extended. I think I'm gonna grab onto it with both hands and never let go.