Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
TRAEGER
Things with Melody are fucked. I understand—somewhat—but at the same time, I want to put my fists through the walls in frustration.
We’d been so close, so fucking close. But the minute Wynn delivered the news about Jonah, the minute I saw that look in her eyes, I knew any hope of it becoming what I wanted it so fucking desperately to become was gone.
An ember snuffed out before it had time to grow into the fire it was meant to be.
She blames me. She blames me because she wasn’t there with him, to protect him.
In her eyes, it’s my fault that he was hurt and that’s not something she can forgive.
I think there’s more to it than that, but I’ll keep my wishful thinking to myself for now.
Now she’s closed herself off from me almost entirely.
She answers questions when asked, nods in acknowledgment or greeting, but our days of talking or joking or playing What Do You Miss?
are over. I even tried leaving books for her again, but after the third resounding thud, letting me know in no uncertain terms that she’d tried her level best to throw the damn things back at me through the wall, I stopped trying for the safety of the poor books.
“Melody, come on,” I all but beg about a month after Jonah’s accident, jogging to catch up to her near the greenhouse. I’d given her time, but I can’t just give up. This thing between us is too real, too important, to just let it go without a fight.
So, I’ll fucking fight.
She stops, shoulders tensing. She takes a deep breath, seeming to steel herself before turning to face me. Is it getting harder for her to keep this up? Or is that just more wishful thinking?
She turns and I try not to let the disappointment show: there isn’t a hint of anything but cool indifference on her beautiful face.
It feels like a punch right to my gut. She hikes a brow in question, though she doesn’t look at me directly.
She never does anymore. I exhale roughly and run a hand through my hair.
This is useless. She isn’t ready to let me fight for her, for us.
Maybe she never will be. I don’t like the cold pit that forms in my stomach at the thought.
I push it away, refusing to look at it. I know she felt the same.
I fucking know it. It wasn’t just physical in that hallway, it was so much more than that.
She couldn’t have forgotten it so quickly, so she’s forcing herself to act like she has.
That’s what I’m telling myself anyway. Maybe I’m just a pathetic, love sick puppy who can’t take a hint, but I’m not giving up, not yet.
But for now, instead of saying what I want to say, I just remind her about our upcoming trip.
A few hours north of FOS, there was a small community out on what was essentially an island in the middle of a huge lake.
It had been entirely cut off from the rest of the world right at the beginning of the end, the two bridges that stretched across the water on the south and north ends blown up by some over-zealous residents thinking they could save everyone on the island if they kept everyone else out.
They’d even gone so far as to sink cars and other hunks of metal along the shoreline to keep boats from crossing over.
It was a good plan, in theory, but they didn’t realize that half of them on the island had already been infected.
We knew so little in those early days, everyone was just grasping at straws and making rash, desperate decisions that they thought meant survival.
It was fucking chaos. It’s honestly a miracle any of us survived.
My guys have been working on repairing the bridge on the south side of the island for a few months now, and they’ve finally got it stable enough to cross on foot.
Eventually, we’ll get it to where vehicles can make the trek, but for now its foot traffic only.
I gave the order that no one goes across until I come personally.
I don’t like watching from the sidelines with this kind of thing, especially if there are potentially new people to bring into Haven—or fight.
Flashes of the ambush where Melody had nearly been killed flicker through my mind and I clench my fists at my sides.
Either way, I want to be there in person to clear the island, so we’re taking a large team to do a massive sweep of the entire thing.
“Pack for a couple of weeks, just to be safe,” I say and she nods. Neither of us move. She swallows hard and finally—finally—shifts her gaze to meet mine directly. There’s a flash of something there. Pain? Longing? Regret?
“Is that all?” she asks quietly.
“Melody, I…” I search her eyes, trying to find something that tells me she still wants me, wants this. I shake my head. “Yeah, that’s all.”
She nods and walks away.