Chapter 11
ELEVEN
I can’t tell if she actually thought we’d just let her go into the city without anything. No phone, no money, no protection, no guard. Did she really think we’d changed so much that we wouldn’t care?
I guess that’s valid, based on how we’ve treated her so far.
The moment she said that to Reis, I knew she was going to run.
I saw the same frustration and desperation in her eyes that I feel daily.
And when I start feeling like that, I have to run too.
The apartment seems too small, too crowded, the guys don’t understand, but Melody always did.
So I ran after her, nearly jumping into the elevator to follow her.
“I can take care of myself. I've been doing just fine without you assholes,” she insists, the venom in her voice barbing my heart.
“Mel,” I plead, hanging my head. She’s wearing my shoes. They’ve got to be at least three sizes too big for her. “You’re wearing my shoes.”
“I wasn’t going to go running through New York City barefoot. I’m not stupid.”
“Never said, or thought, you were.” I make a mental note to go to the nearest shoe store. I cannot have her clomping around in shoes like that.
Melody turns away from me, standing to face the front of the elevator. It’s fucking adorable. She’s standing there, arms crossed hotly and tapping her foot like she wants time to move faster.
I don’t mind, though, because I get to unabashedly check her out. When we left Haven, she was just going into her senior year. Her hair was long and glossy, her skin was supple with happiness and youth.
And her ass, goddamn, her ass. I close my eyes and silently groan in pleasure at how pert and bouncy it still is. Each cheek is definitely more than a handful, and I’ve always wanted to shove my face between them while she’s writhing in pleasure.
“Are you just going to stare at me all day, or are you actually going to say something?” Melody snaps, turning her head sharply to look at me with those burning brown eyes.
I put my hands into my pocks leisurely and tip my head, looking at her through teasingly narrow eyes. “Did you want me to say something, Sync? I got the impression you wanted nothing to do with me.”
“Ugh!” She actually stomps her foot, and I smirk at the cute little temper-tantrum.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
She throws her arms up, and there’s a sad look behind the fight in her eyes.
“Why couldn’t you just let me go? I’m not the weak little girl you left behind.
No matter how hard Reis—or any of you—try to make my life hell, it won’t affect me.
I’m sharper, stronger, more jaded. What could you possibly want from me? ”
Why is she sad? Does she really despise us that much? And what the fuck does she mean, she’s not what we want? She’s arguably the only thing we’ve all ever wanted.
I’m saved from answering by the ding of the elevator doors opening at the ground level.
Melody breaks eye contact with me as soon as the door opens and runs.
Well, as much as she can in shoes so big they send her clopping on the marble floor.
She quickly, so damn quickly, pushes out the front door and into the bustling city of New York.
One moment and I could lose her to the sea of people.
Early mornings in the city are amazing. The energy is addictive as people hustle and bustle to their next stop with no care in the world. People are as crazy as I am here, and it doesn’t matter what I do—or used to do, back when I could be anonymous—they’ve seen crazier.
“What’s the plan here, Mel?” I call, rushing forward to catch up with her. She’s at least a foot shorter than me so it would be way too easy for her to disappear.
My chest tightens at the thought. No, she’s not getting away. We’ve already kidnapped her. Now, I’m going to keep her.
By any means necessary.
Pulling the ball cap from my back pocket, I cover my hair and pull it down to obscure my face as much as I can. We try to hide our faces from the public as much as possible, but that doesn’t mean we are able to hide completely. Paparazzi follow us everywhere we go.
In the beginning it was so freaking exciting that people cared enough about us, and our band, to follow us around and take pictures. Now it feels like I can’t take a breath of fresh air without someone staring at me and gossiping.
I try to stealthily look over my shoulder to make sure there aren’t any cameras pointed at us. Not for my sake, but because it won’t sit well with me if people have pictures of Melody and start to talk.
She’s ours, and I’m not willing to share her with the world yet.
Not seeing any obvious lurkers, I put my hand on her back and pull her roughly against my side, my arm possessive at her waist.
“There is no plan, Kai. Other than trying to get back to Oklahoma, and back to my life,” she grumbles, but doesn’t try to pull away from me. That’s a decent sign at the very least.
“Tell me more about this life of yours,” I say with a grin, whispering in her ear so she can hear me over the chatter of others walking around us.
“Oh stop, you don’t actually want to know.” She rolls her eyes, trying to brush me off. But I know better.
My arm moves from her waist to her neck, and I pull her tighter to my body, curling her shoulders so we’re facing each other more as we walk.
“Oh, but darlin’,” I drawl, letting my Oklahoma accent slip out obnoxiously, “I really, really do. First, let’s sit down and grab a coffee. You woke me up way too fucking early, and I need some caffeine in my system so I can give you my full and prompt attention.”
Melody looks at me out of the corner of her eye, and a real, true smile grows on her face. It’s directed at me for the first time since she kissed me this morning, and a little bit of the darkness in my heart fades away.
Melody and I walk huddled together to a small diner just down the street from our penthouse. I like how, when we decided to look for a penthouse, we found a modern skyscraper surrounded by hole-in-the-wall restaurants and normal life.
Walking into our favorite corner bodega, I’m hoping the enticing smell of fried food and coffee will make her happier to be here with us.
Trapper’s, the corner store with a little eatery in the back, has been a staple in our lives and diet since we moved here.
I worked for Helen when we first arrived—we all did.
I worked behind the counter, Reis was a cook, Markus and Adam did inventory.
She took us in when we needed someone, and she’s been looking after us ever since.
Helen looks up from behind the tall counter when the bell rings overhead and calls my name in her thick New Yorker accent before giving me a nana-hug.
You know the kind of hug that you can feel their love and affection through their warmth and embrace?
She always gives us these kinds of hugs and I love it.
“Helen!” I pull back, giving her a kiss on the forehead. She’s a small woman, definitely a few inches shorter than Melody, but she’s strong, and unbelievably kind. Especially for a through-and-through New Yorker. Our pseudo-grandma.
“Helen,” I say proudly, holding a hand out to Melody. “This is Melody. Our Melody.”
“This is Melody?” Helen repeats in the form of a question. “You are just as beautiful as they said, honey!” She smiles, the crinkles around her eyes deepening with her happiness as she reaches out to shake Mel’s hand.
“They’ve talked about me?” Melody asks, her eyes wide with surprise, as she takes Helen’s hand and shakes it.
“They used to talk about how ‘Melody would love this,’ or ‘Melody would absolutely devour this cake,’ or how ‘no one would ever compare to their girl back home,’ or–”
I cut her off, my cheeks must be as red as a lobster based on how hot they feel. “That’s enough, Helen.” I chuckle, rubbing the back of my neck awkwardly.
“Oh, you silly boy.” Helen laughs boisterously, waving me off like she was going to walk away, but instead she turns to hug me again and speak softly in my ear.
“If this is really her , you need to fix whatever you broke and not lose her again. It’s been six years, and you still think of her and only her every time you’re here. Man up and fix it.”
She turns back to Melody and pulls her hand into the crook of her elbow, leading her back toward a small little table in the back. I know exactly where she’s fucking leading her. To the table we all branded as ours… and we added Melody’s name, too.
Just like the tree back home.
Fuck. My head drops and I groan. I should’ve known Helen would do this. She loves pushing boundaries and embarrassing those she likes.
“Now, I usually let my guests look at our limited menu, but I’ve got a secret talent after working in the business for so long. I’m kind of a clairvoyant at what people would like to eat. No allergies?” Helen asks as Mel sits on one side of the table.
“Nope, no allergies.” Mel smiles at Helen kindly, and it makes me happy to see them getting along so well.
As much as Helen knows our feelings for Mel, she has also heard all the petty anger and frustrations we had.
All the drama and bad feelings that ruminated around us for years after we moved here. She’s heard it all.
I watch Helen like a hawk. She’s not lying when she says she’s kind of a clairvoyant.
She said she knew what we would become the moment she saw us and actually told us in detail.
She knew we needed help and that someone had broken our hearts.
I still remember when she pulled me aside and told me the one who broke the four of us so completely–it wasn’t what we thought.
She hadn’t been wrong before. Now I’m taking her words a little more seriously about Melody. Not to mention, her reaction to Melody: warm, open, caring, welcoming—that tells me everything I need to know.
“Fantastic, hun. I’ll bring you something yummy to put some meat on those bones. Coffee with cream and sugar, right?” Helen asks her, pointing.