Chapter Three
Melina
My old Honda shuddered to stop in the driveway of my family home.
I’d rushed to get here, pushing both the speed limit and my poor engine, but now that I’d arrived, I couldn’t make myself get out. With my purse on my lap and both hands locked around the steering wheel, I sat staring at our run-down house, waiting for my heart to settle.
What the hell was I doing?
I’d left work early, without telling anyone, jeopardizing both my credibility and career. Sure, it was only one hour, my bosses were understanding, and I could make up the time. Still, I’d never acted so irresponsibly in all my life.
Never…except that one other time.
But that was the effect of Zane light-my-panties-on-fire Alexander, wasn’t it?
I’d known it was a risk to walk into The Summit while he was working. I’d known better, and I’d done it anyway. In my panic to find Lydia, my feet had foolishly carried me right into the path of the one man who’d single-handedly ruined my desire for all other men.
Damn him.
Why did he have to be so attractive?
It didn’t matter that he wasn’t my type or that his man-whore reputation genuinely disgusted me. Whenever he was around, every practical thought left me.
One glimpse of his broad shoulders, his dazzling smile, that confident swagger he performed like he was born with it, and I was nothing but a puddle of hormones. The state of my panties after running into him proved it. But that wasn’t even the worst part.
Nope. The worst part was that I knew what I was missing because I’d already had a taste. One glorious, mouthwatering taste.
It happened a year ago, not long after I’d lost my mother.
Maybe it was the grief. Maybe it was my best friend insisting I needed to get drunk and stop isolating myself.
Or maybe it was just the lure of the irresistible man paying attention to me.
Whatever the reason, I’d ended the night with my hands up his shirt, admiring the solid cut of his bare abs, while exploring his mouth with mine.
I hadn’t even been that drunk. Tipsy, yes. Reckless, absolutely. But I’d known exactly what I was doing and could have stopped it at any time.
I just hadn’t wanted to. Hell, I was the one who’d started it.
And not just because he was insanely gorgeous and I was an emotional mess.
No, I’d done it because I liked him. Because when he found me crying alone on the back porch, he hadn’t treated me like I was an inconvenience.
He could’ve ignored me. Could’ve escaped back inside to the party and pretended he hadn’t seen me falling apart. Instead, one look at me and he understood exactly what I needed. The comfort of someone steady enough to hold me together for a little while.
And he had.
He’d wrapped my freezing body against his and listened while I poured every ugly piece of my grief into the dark. When I curled closer, he held me tighter. And when I kissed him, he consoled me with his wicked tongue.
He’d been solid, warm, and impossible to forget.
Which was exactly why giving in to that temptation again was such a terrible idea. An impossible one.
His last name alone guaranteed that. The Alexanders owned the entire resort, along with the endless list of rules, including the strict no-fraternization policy.
I refused to become the woman the whole town whispered about. I would not lose my job and be known as the pathetic employee who tried to sleep her way into a promotion all because I had a crush on the owner’s son.
My life was already complicated enough without adding Zane do-me-now Alexander to the list.
Then why did walking away from him hurt so much?
With a sigh, I shoved the thought of him aside and forced myself out of the car. My family needed me. That was the bottom line and the only thing that mattered.
“I’m home!” I called into the empty hallway, shrugging out of my coat with a shiver.
No one answered, but muffled voices drifted from the kitchen, pulling me toward them.
“I’m telling you, you’re doing it wrong,” Lucy complained.
I peeked around the corner and found both my sisters fighting over something on the stove in the dim room.
“And I’m telling you, I’m not,” Olivia shot back. “But it would help if I could actually see.”
Lucy shifted aside, and a small flame jumped to life between them.
“What the hell are you doing?” I hurried into the room.
Lucy startled, but Olivia didn’t even flinch. “Cooking,” she said like the answer should be obvious.
“Then I agree with Lucy, you’re definitely doing it wrong.”
Olivia finally looked at me, unimpressed. “If there was electricity in our house, I wouldn’t need to resort to this.” She gestured toward our dad’s old camping stove. The small, two-burner propane grill was balanced on top of our electric range, a dented pot set over the flame.
It was kind of genius.
Then her words sank in. “What do you mean, if there was electricity?”
Olivia’s hard expression softened, making her look years younger. She could be so darkly sarcastic at times, it was easy to forget she was barely eighteen. “The power’s off.”
“There was a red card on the door when I got home from school,” Lucy added, her gaze cast downward, avoiding mine.
Shit. Shit, shit, shit.
No wonder the house was so cold—no electricity meant no heat. I’d forgotten to pay the bill. Again.
Like everything else lately, it had slipped behind while I chased deadlines, overtime, and the promotion I kept telling myself would fix everything.
How could I have let this happen?
Work had become my entire focus. Impressing my bosses. Proving myself indispensable. Clawing toward stability one exhausting shift at a time.
I told myself I was doing it for them. For my family.
But what if that was just the thing I told myself so I wouldn’t feel guilty?
The job had been my dream long before I needed the raise that came along with it. But there was no point in earning the promotion if everything at home fell apart in the process.
I swallowed hard against the lump rising in my throat.
“It’s okay.” Maybe if I kept saying it, I’d convince myself it was true. “I’m sure it was just a mistake. I’ll get it sorted.”
“We know.” Olivia stirred whatever was inside the pot.
Thank goodness for these girls. Yes, they were my bratty little sisters, and at one point in time, I’d been resentful of them—it was hard to welcome a new sibling after being an only child for nine years—but I’d be lost without them.
Because even though I was responsible for them, in reality we’d become a team. A pretty damn good one.
“How’s Dad?” I asked.
Olivia’s brow furrowed. “He still hasn’t come out of his room.”
“But he’s fine.” Lucy pulled bowls from the cupboard. “I just heard him flush the toilet a few minutes ago.”
Well, at least we still had running water. “Okay, I’ll go check on him.”
“Spaghetti will be on the table in about fifteen,” Olivia called after me. “I hope you can convince him to come and eat.”
Hope felt wildly optimistic, but I didn’t say that aloud.
I followed the cold, dark hallway to my father’s door and took a deep breath before knocking. “Dad? It’s Melina.”
“Go away.” His gruff answer was better than nothing, but his tantrums and self-pity were wearing on me.
He’d suffered a stroke eight months ago, and I’d been warned his recovery would be tough. I just hadn’t expected him to have so many mood swings because of it.
Or to feel so responsible for them all.
“I don’t want to go away,” I told him through the thin wood. “I haven’t seen you all day. Can’t we talk face-to-face?”
“Don’t…w-w-want talk.” His stuttered speech was a result of the stroke, and a sign I was pushing my luck.
“Okay. But if you change your mind or get hungry, the girls and I would be happy to see you.”
He answered with a grunt, indicating the conversation was over.
Nice talking to you, Dad.
Disappointment sat heavy in my chest as I headed back to the kitchen to eat a cheap spaghetti dinner with my sisters.
The power might’ve been out. The house might’ve been freezing. My head still pounded from stress and lack of sleep. But at least I wasn’t alone.
We took our pasta to the living room, where I lit a fire in the fireplace, and the three of us huddled around it, warding off the chill.
“Jasper asked me to the Winter Festival Dance.” Lucy’s cheeks glowed in the firelight, and my insides melted a little at her happiness.
Olivia snorted. “You actually want to go to that lame dance?”
Despite the teasing twinkle in her eye, a small pang sliced through me. “I can’t believe you think my dance will be lame.”
“No offense, Meli, but yeah. It always is.”
“Well, I can’t wait to prove you wrong, and I think it’s sweet that Jasper asked.” I wrapped my arm around Lucy’s shoulders, wanting to preserve her innocent ideals and making a mental note to find out who this Jasper boy was. “What did you tell him?”
“Nothing yet,” she admitted, hiding her mouth behind her bowl. “I didn’t know what I should say.”
“Well, do you want to go with him or not?” Olivia’s mouthful did nothing to impede her interrogation.
Lucy squirmed. “I think so.”
“Then you should say yes.” I squeezed her closer, ignoring Olivia’s attempts to rile us both up and doing my best to instill confidence in our little sister.
She shook her head, chin quivering. “But it costs so much to go. I don’t have a dress or the right shoes…”
Tears burned my eyes.
I was failing them. They were too young to be so burdened. School, friends, boys, dances—those should be their only worries, not red cards, empty cupboards, or locked bedroom doors.
“It doesn’t matter how much it costs. I’ll take care of it.” It wouldn’t be easy, but I’d find a way. I couldn’t continue to let her down. Either of them. “I’ll take care of everything.”
Lucy’s eyes found mine, concern etched across her pretty face. “But who’ll take care of you?”
“You don’t think I can look after myself?” I forced a smile.
“Sure.” She smiled back. “I just don’t think you should have to do it on your own, that’s all.”
Olivia snickered again, but this time with a poorly hidden smile. “What Lucy’s trying to say is we think you need a boyfriend. Or maybe just a friend with benefits. Someone to help you relax once in a while.”
A startled laugh burst out of me, and the tears I’d been holding back ran from the corners of my eyes. “Please!” I shoved her shoulder. “Never say anything like that again.”
Lucy giggled and blushed. “It really isn’t an awful idea. A boyfriend, I mean. Not sex.”
One mention of sex and an irresistible image of Zane popped into my head—his wicked grin and heated gaze warming me from the inside out.
“Trust me,” I muttered, pushing past my lust-tinted thoughts. “It’s all a very bad idea.”