Chapter 24 Josh
JOSH
Melanie is at her dad’s house for a while.
At first, I think I’ll wait for her but as time goes on, I give up waiting and focus on our evening plans.
I prep the appetizer we’re bringing over to Miles’s and Jenna’s place.
I walk to the liquor store on the corner and pick up a bottle of wine that I think Jenna will like and a case of Miller Lite for Miles since I’ve never seen him drink anything else.
Melanie is right—the town is packed. Luckily, we can park at their house and walk up to the beach to watch the fireworks later on.
When I get back from the store, Melanie still isn’t back so I get out my guitar and play through “Every Song” a couple of times, adjusting the pre-hook the way we talked about. Then I open my notebook and make a list of the songs I’ve got so far for the EP.
…
I’ve got…two. To be fair, I don’t even have that.
I have a title for “The Sound of Her Name” and a few chord progressions I think could work.
I haven’t even shown it to Melanie yet. And if I don’t get going, I’m not going to have enough for an EP.
I’d like to present them with at least four songs by the end of the summer.
I pick up my guitar and start strumming the chords I’ve been tossing around in my mind. I hum it before I bring myself to sing the words. Once through, and I think maybe I’ve got something here.
“The sound of her name, soft in the air. Melody fading, but she’s still there,” I sing softly. I’m so lost in the music that I don’t hear Melanie come in.
“What’s that?” She startles me from behind and I jump.
“Geez,” I hiss. “You scared me.”
Melanie ignores me and picks up her guitar before plopping next to me. “I like it. What is it?”
“I was just fiddling with a song for Cara.” I shrug. “It’s nothing yet.”
“Well, come on.” Melanie nudges me with her knee. “Let’s write it.”
I grin. “Yeah? You really want to?” I thought Melanie was pulling back from collaborating on new stuff with me. Today she seems energized, and I find it irresistibly sexy.
“Yeah, I told you I want to.” She locks her eyes on me. “Unless you have other ideas for how we could kill time before the party.” She bites her lower lip, eyeing me teasingly.
I let out a chuckle. “I think we can make time for both of those things.”
“Let’s do it,” Melanie chirps. She strums a G major.
I laugh, shaking my head. “I don’t have any words yet. I was playing around with C-G-Am-F in the I-V-vi-IV progression.”
Immediately, Mel starts strumming, before I’ve had the chance to show her. She picks it up right away, and my heart jumps to my throat watching her. I watch her play through it a few times before she glances up at me. “Like this?”
“Exactly,” I say, finally strumming along. “The sound of her name, soft in the air. Melody fading, but she’s still there,” I sing. “I don’t know what should come next,” I admit, continuing to strum.
Melanie looks thoughtful as she repeats the chord progression. “How about this…” She licks her lips. “No answers come when you scream at the sky. Some get forever, some say goodbye.” Her voice is melodic.
I’m unprepared for the lump that forms in my throat. I cough to clear it. Melanie’s line is perfect, but it makes my heart crack open. Maybe I can’t do this. Maybe I can’t write a song for Cara. It might be too painful.
“I like that.” I set my guitar aside, desperate to push away the sudden feeling of loss enveloping me. “You’re sexy when you write songs,” I murmur, crawling over to her. I pick up her guitar and set it on the armchair. “Let’s pick this up later.” I kiss her on the mouth.
Melanie giggles, kissing me back. “Josh,” she whispers into the kiss. “I thought we were writing a song about your sister.”
I deepen the kiss before pulling back slightly, resting my forehead on hers. “I can’t think about my sister when you’re so fucking sexy.” I scoop her up, catching her by surprise and she shrieks. “We’ll pick this up later.”
I carry her straight to the bedroom, kicking the door closed behind me.
* * *
Hours later, we’re hanging at Miles and Jenna’s before the fireworks.
The girls are inside cleaning up from the feast we just annihilated, and the guys are playing cornhole in the yard.
I’m teamed up with Liam—Miles and Jack are the other team.
The kids are running around with Pete and Maggie, the older ones tossing a Frisbee.
I find myself smiling as I watch them between my turn throwing bags.
This feels right, it feels like I should have never been anywhere else.
The Josh I am here in Cape May is the closest I’ve come to the boy I used to be, before the weight of the world shaped me into someone else.
For the first time in years, I’m not lost in the past or chasing after the future—I’m just me.
I toss my bag at the same time as my phone pings.
I pull it out of my pocket in time to see a couple of text messages from Gary, my manager.
The first message is a simple “Hey check this out.” A link follows.
I tap it—it’s a link to People Magazine’s Instagram post. It’s a photo of Keira looking cozy on a daybed at some luxurious looking beach resort.
The caption simply says, “Keira gets cozy with Damon Jennings.” I must let out a growl because Liam calls my name from his side of the cornhole boards.
“Earth to Josh. You good, buddy?” He cups his hands around his mouth.
I shove my phone back in my pocket and pick up one of the bags that Jack has already gathered up for me. “Sorry,” I mutter, preparing to take my throw. “What’s the count?”
“Eighteen to twenty, us. Aim for just the board,” Liam calls. The rules of cornhole are one point for the board, three points for the hole. Twenty-one wins.
I take a step and toss the bag underhand, landing squarely on the board.
“Woo!” Liam whoops, jumping in a circle. “Now just toss to me.”
I toss the other two bags to him, and he catches them one-handed.
“Good game, suckers,” Liam quips, slapping Miles on the back.
I shake Jack’s hand, followed by Miles.
“This calls for one of Sophie’s red, white, and blue Jello shots,” Liam suggests. “It’s America’s birthday, baby.”
I bark out a laugh and hold up my hands. “I’m good, I’m good. I’m not drinking tonight.”
Liam’s expression falters slightly, and he glances between me and the other guys, as if he just realized it now. “You sure? It’s the fourth!”
“I’m okay.” I give him a friendly nod, unsure about how much I want to divulge right now.
Before I can even decide, Jenna yells out the back door. “Boys! Let’s start to head up to the beach.”
I let out a breath through my mouth. “You heard the lady, boys,” I murmur, grateful for the change in subject.
I bolt for the back door, finding Melanie in the kitchen sipping a glass of wine. She catches my eye and swallows before dumping the rest of her glass in the sink.
“Hey, alcohol abuse,” Danny’s wife Kristen scolds. “What’s with you?”
Melanie eyes me in the doorway before flicking her gaze back to Kristen. “You said you were ready to go.”
“You could’ve chugged it.” Kristen rolls her eyes. “That’s good wine.”
“Sorry,” Melanie mutters with a half-hearted shrug. Kristen doesn’t hear her; she’s already moved to the front door in search of her shoes.
I move quickly to Melanie’s side and pull her into a hug. She melts into me, and I feel her inhale deeply, nuzzling into my chest. She lets out a sigh.
“You don’t have to throw your drink in the sink when you see me, you know,” I whisper into her ear.
“I know,” she says, pulling back to look at me. “I just…want to be respectful.”
I hook my index finger under her chin, pulling her gaze up to mine. “You already are.”
* * *
We settle on the beach ten minutes later, spreading out big blankets for the kids and positioning our chairs in a circle.
It’s only 8:00. We still have another hour before fireworks start, but I’m told the beach gets crowded, so we stake out our spots.
I sit in my chair at the end, watching as Danny, Kristen, Jack, and Steph try to finagle their kids into sunset photos at the shoreline.
Most of the kids are grumbling but it still tugs at something deep inside my chest. A longing for family.
I remember watching fireworks from the beach with my parents and Cara, adorned in glow necklaces and holding sparklers while we waited for the big show.
“I should call my parents.” I don’t mean to say it aloud, but it prompts a concerned look from Melanie, who is sitting next to me, looking at Sophie and Liam’s little girls with awe.
She cups her hand around my kneecap and squeezes. “Maybe you should.”
I don’t reply. Instead, I let my mind go back to the last Fourth of July I remember with my parents and Cara.
We must’ve been fourteen or fifteen—before we were too cool to watch the fireworks with our parents.
I remember having my guitar down here, my mom and sister sprawled out on a blanket, snacking and making requests.
My dad and I leading the sing-along. My chest constricts.
I was not prepared for the emotions of being back here.
I threw myself into the ocean of memories with no life preserver and now I suddenly feel as if I’m drowning in grief.
The beach is starting to fill up and I am lost in thought when Melanie passes me my guitar.
“Play us something patriotic,” she suggests.
The look in her eyes tells me she knows it’ll make me feel better—the music always does.
I take the guitar from her and give her a sidelong glance before swallowing hard. “Will you sing along?” I ask, my voice thick with emotion.
“If you want me to.” Melanie pats my forearm. She must sense that I went someplace else for a minute.