Chapter 10
JOSH
NOW
As soon as I hear Melanie’s footsteps outside the door, my heart jumps to my throat.
She has always made me nervous, but now that she’s agreed to play music with me again, it’s a whole new level of insecurity.
I’d be lying if I said I haven’t felt things this past week.
Our relationship was special. Losing both her and Cara at the same time?
It damn near broke me. I turn away from the front door and force myself to focus on filling our water glasses.
“It smells good in here.” Melanie’s voice singsongs behind me.
I whirl around and offer her a smile. “I hope it tastes as good as it smells.” I chuckle.
“I hope you didn’t go to any trouble. I eat take-out like five out of seven nights a week.” She smirks, reaching down to pull off her sneakers. She leaves them by the front door.
“I like to cook,” I say, holding out a water glass to her when she stands up.
She takes a long sip before setting it on the small dining table and heading for her room. “Just let me get out of these clothes real quick,” she calls over her shoulder.
“Sure, take your time,” I call after her.
I can’t help but notice, she doesn’t close her bedroom door, and I can see the silhouette of her trim body.
She pulls off her work polo shirt and rummages through the dresser drawer at the entrance to her room in only her bra.
She’s breathtaking. I have to force myself to turn and walk into the kitchen so I don’t gawk at her when she removes her jeans.
She probably doesn’t even realize she left her door open. You perv.
I open the oven and pull out a glass dish with chicken parm, filling two plates.
Then I retrieve the Caesar salad I made earlier from the fridge.
By the time I get everything on the table, Melanie meets me there.
She’s changed into black leggings and an oversized pink T-shirt that falls off her left shoulder.
Her hair is piled on top of her head, a few strawberry blonde curls falling out at the nape of her neck.
I always loved Melanie’s neck and shoulders.
As a lovesick teen, I’d stare longingly at them, imagining the soft kisses I’d plant there.
All the while, she strummed her guitar, clueless to how infatuated with her I really was.
“Wow, Josh.” Melanie pulls out the chair next to mine and sits. “No one has ever made me dinner like this.” She stares in awe at the meal before her.
My jaw slackens with shock. “No one has ever cooked for you?” I can’t imagine Melanie spending the last twenty-five years alone.
Melanie pushes her full pink lips together and shakes her head. “Besides my dad? No. There’s never really been anyone serious.” She offers me a wistful smile and shrugs half-heartedly.
“I find that hard to believe,” I say, fighting the urge to reach for her.
Melanie lets out a dry laugh. “Believe it.” She clears her throat. “I was going to stop and get us some wine but then I realized I haven’t seen you drinking.” She furrows her brow at me. “Are you sober?” Melanie’s voice is gentle as she places her warm hand on my forearm.
I stifle a cough and nod. “It’s only been about a year but yeah.” What I don’t add is, I know exactly how long it’s been.
Melanie’s expression softens, but there’s no pity in it, only understanding. “That couldn’t have been easy. I get it, though. More than you think.”
I shake my head and smile at her, wanting desperately to lighten the mood.
“It’s not that serious. I just don’t like the person I turn into when I’m under the influence, and it makes me feel like garbage, so I decided to cut it out.
” I pause and seriously debate telling her the whole story.
Then I decide against it—it would ruin me for her.
“Apparently, to some people, that makes me less fun.”
“I’ll always think you’re fun,” Melanie says, pulling her hand back.
She picks up her fork and meets my eyes, her own baby blues a pool of emotion.
“This really looks delicious.” She doesn’t drop her gaze, and I wonder if she feels what I feel—the desperate longing for the past, the way we clung to each other without a care in the world. The plans we made that didn’t pan out.
My cheeks heat and I’m sure they’re pink—thankfully, my three-day-old beard hides it. “Well, thanks.” I grin.
We spend a few moments eating in silence, other than the cute, satisfied noises escaping Melanie that I imagine her making in the bedroom.
Heat pricks the back of my neck every time she looks my way.
I want her and I can’t have her—it will lead nowhere good.
The best-case scenario here is for the two of us to make some music, reminisce, and celebrate Cara.
If I get some tracks for the album out of it, that’s even better.
“So, why are you really back here, Josh?” Melanie’s question jars me out of my thoughts.
I laugh, wiping my mouth with a paper napkin. “What do you mean? I told you, I need inspiration for my album.”
Melanie leans back in her chair and takes me in for a moment before speaking. “You’re a country music star… you could have gone anywhere else to find inspiration.” It’s a statement not a question.
“I know.” I nod and take a sip of water, deflecting further. “I wanted to come home.” I look away for a moment, but she doesn’t take her eyes off me. I stifle a cough. There’s more to it than I’ve let on, but I’m not ready to share what’s on my heart.
“Okay,” she finally says, clearly choosing not to press me further. “Well, I’m glad you’re back.”
I give her a tight smile. “Me too. Shall we make some music?”
* * *
We settle in the cramped living room with our guitars, Melanie in the armchair and me on the couch.
I’ve noticed she’s upgraded hers from her high school guitar to a rose gold Ibanez acoustic electric.
I’ve set my music books out on the table as well as some blank staff paper and my phone with wireless microphones to record.
Melanie is quiet as she picks up her guitar, balancing it on her knee. She appears to be waiting for me.
“Do you want to play some covers first to warm up?” I ask, picking up my own guitar that I left leaning against the end table.
Melanie tucks a stray curl that has fallen out of her bun behind her ear and meets my gaze. “Sure,” she says, and she begins strumming the chords to my biggest hit, “Without You.”
I am barely breathing as I lean closer to her, desperate to close the distance between us.
If she expects me to pick up my guitar and join in, she doesn’t say so.
She continues strumming the intro, and then her melodic voice fills the room.
I swallow hard, feeling my throat constrict.
Twenty-five years have passed and still the sound of her voice sends goose bumps up my arms. It is both a balm and a blade, cutting clear through the years that had stretched between us.
Maybe somewhere beneath her composure, she also feels the spark that never really faded.
My fingers instinctually tighten around the neck of my guitar, aching to play the next chord—but I don’t.
I’m too captivated by her, playing my melody, singing my words.
I hadn’t realized how much I missed her until now.
My chest aches with the bittersweet twist of regret and, at the same time, hope for the future.
Melanie finishes playing and looks at me, smiling. “Surprise,” she says with a slight shrug.
“You know my music,” I rasp, unable to keep the emotion out of my voice. The back of my throat burns.
Melanie’s face softens. “Of course I do, Josh.” She reaches for me, placing her hand on my kneecap.
“I’m so proud of you.” Her brows knit together, and her voice is quieter.
“The first time I heard this song on the radio, I knew I had to learn it. It helped me feel close to you when we were so far apart.” But what I think she means is, when we left so many words unspoken. That’s the real reason I’m here.
My heart lurches in my chest. “Play it again,” I murmur.
This time I join her.
We play through the song together, never breaking eye contact.
When we reach the bridge, Melanie takes the third harmony.
My chest constricts, and I’m not even embarrassed when my eyes sting with unshed tears.
Being here with Melanie, making music together again, really is coming home. Melanie is home for me.
“What next?” she asks when we finish.
I’m so overcome with emotion I have to take a pause. I lean my guitar against the couch and run a thumb under my lower lid to prevent a tear from escaping.
Melanie’s face falls when she sees the emotion on my face.
“Josh, are you okay?” she asks, alarmed, setting her own guitar aside.
She rises and comes to sit next to me on the couch.
Without hesitation, she puts her arms around me, and I quickly reciprocate.
The moment our arms close around each other, it’s as if time has folded in on itself, drawing the past and present together into one fragile, breathless moment.
It’s not just a hug—it’s the quiet ache of things we left behind.
I’m sure Melanie feels the tremor of my chest, my uneven heartbeat carrying too many unspoken words.
“I’m so sorry, Mel,” I whisper into her shoulder, letting my lips linger on her skin. Her arms fit around me like they always had, as if no time had passed, as if there were no long silences or unspoken apologies for the pain I caused her.
“Josh.” Melanie’s voice wavers and she sniffles. And in the quiet space between us, she softens. Maybe she hasn’t forgiven me completely, but there’s hope.
“I should have come sooner,” I murmur, pulling back slightly so I can look at her without breaking contact.
“You were busy…” Melanie lets her voice trail off. “You made something of yourself.”
I pull back, guilt washing over me, sharp and unrelenting. “And at what cost?” I let go of Melanie and scrape my hand through my hair. “I lost you completely. And I’ve missed you more than I ever let myself admit…until now.”
“I’ve missed you too, Josh,” Melanie croaks. She falls back into my arms, and I let her, stroking her back.
I let myself memorize the way she feels against me, as if holding her now will make up for all the years I didn’t. We stay like that for a long time, and for the first time, I let myself think maybe this doesn’t have to end—maybe it can be the start of something new.
Then
Josh,
I need you to know how much last night meant to me.
I can’t call you because I don’t want Cara to be suspicious.
And you won’t get to read this until Study Hall on Monday, but if I don’t get it out, I’ll burst. Thank you.
Thank you for taking me to my prom. For my corsage.
For dancing with me and being silly with me.
For making me feel beautiful. And seen. And thank you for everything after…
for your patience and gentleness with me.
For making our first time special. I will remember it forever.
I hope you know how much you mean to me, not just because of last night, but because of everything.
Love, Mel
Melanie,
You have no idea how much you mean to me.
I haven’t stopped thinking about it since Saturday night.
Not just what we did but how you looked at me after.
You’re the only girl I ever want to be like that with.
I have no idea if I did everything right, but I know it felt like the rest of the world faded away and it was just us.
I hope you don’t regret it because I don’t.
Not for a second. So…when is round two? Asking for a friend.
LOL – you better only be asking for yourself! I still can’t believe that actually happened…with you. Not to be dramatic but I’m pretty sure you ruined me for anyone else. Ever.
For me too. Now all the love songs on the radio make sense. Can we please hang out again ASAP?
Maybe somewhere a bit more private than the gazebo? My parents won’t be home until 6 today.
School can’t end fast enough.