Chapter 38 Josh
JOSH
I don’t waste any time going back to Melanie’s apartment.
On the way over, I call Liam and Sophie and fill them in.
Then I call The Ugly Mug and ask to speak to Andrew.
I fill him in too, letting him know that Melanie would probably need a few days off from work.
He sounds surprised to hear from me and guilt burns hot under my skin.
He probably knows about our split. If you could even call it that.
This has got to be one of the hardest things Melanie has ever been through, seeing her dad like that.
I hate hospitals—always have since Cara—but today?
There is nowhere else I’d have rather been then by Melanie’s side, taking care of things for her.
I’m still angry and sad, but I can’t leave her to carry this alone. I won’t do it.
I hurry into her apartment and head straight for the bedroom.
The sight of the unmade bed hits me in the gut.
When we first started sleeping together, Melanie made me promise to make the bed if I was the last one here—said she couldn’t start her day without it.
How bad must things be if she’s stopped?
The mattress dips under my weight as I sit on the edge.
I hold her pillow to my chest, the faint scent of her shampoo still clinging to it.
For a moment, everything inside me aches. Then I spring into action.
The phone charger goes in first, then the pajamas she always wears.
Denim shorts. A few T-shirts. Leggings. A hoodie in case the hospital’s cold.
Bra. Underwear. Deodorant. The body spray she likes.
My gaze sweeps the room, searching for anything else she might need, but nothing comes.
Just silence—and the ghost of her everywhere.
I move to the single drawer she gave me and yank it open.
All that’s inside are a couple of pairs of underwear, black gym shorts, and my white undershirts.
I frown. I know I left more than that. I look around the room thinking maybe she thought I wasn’t coming back and put my stuff in a bag or a box.
My eyes land on her hamper and on top of it are at least three of my T-shirts.
I walk over and pick one up, holding it to my face.
Her. It smells like her. Melanie has been sleeping in my shirts.
I laugh, not because it’s funny, but because she misses me as much as I miss her and it’s fucking great.
I drop the shirt back in the hamper and settle for my gym shorts, some underwear, and the white tees. It’s a good thing I grabbed a couple items at the cottage.
After one last sweep of the place, I flick off the lights and head for the kitchen, grabbing a few waters and snacks for the road.
The sight of untouched fruit on the counter makes me pause, so a couple of bananas, apples, and oranges go into the bag too.
Then I lock the door behind me, and I’m gone.
I have a lot of time to reflect on my drive to the hospital.
It’s over an hour away, and I really wish Melanie and I shared our locations so I could see if they made it yet.
I’ll admit that since Saturday, I worried that starting things up with her was a mistake.
That I could have just protected myself from all this pain if I just never revisited the relationship to begin with.
But today? Seeing Mel break the way she did, I know there are no mistakes.
There are wounds, yes. Secrets that gutted me when I found out too late, grief for a child we’ll never meet, guilt for leaving her alone in it.
And there’s anger, too, at her for not trusting me enough to tell me, and at myself for giving her a reason not to.
But none of that changes the truth that’s clearer now than ever—I still want her. All of her. Even the parts that hurt. We have a lot to talk about, a concert to perform, and things to work through, but for the first time in days, I know it’ll be okay.
Just as I’m pulling in the hotel parking lot, Melanie texts me.
Melanie: We’re here. They’ve assigned Dad a room but he hasn’t made it up here yet. I’m waiting in the hallway.
I quickly reply, not wanting to keep her waiting.
Me: Good. I’m just checking into the hotel. I’ll be there soon. What’s the room number?
Melanie: 364B
Me: I’ll see you soon.
Thankfully, there aren’t a lot of people checking into the hotel at this time of night, so the process is quick, and the room is ready.
I head upstairs, drop the bags of clothes, and grab only the things I’ll need if we’re there for a long time.
I also bring the fruit, knowing Melanie must be starved.
We’re well past dinner time now. I head for the elevator, opening my Maps app as I walk, so I can get to her faster.
By the time I’m pulling into the parking garage, it’s dark out. This is a much larger hospital than the one Frank was at before. I can park in the garage and walk across the bridge to his floor. This place isn’t in the best area, and I’m glad I didn’t let Mel come alone.
I reach Frank’s hospital room quickly, knocking as I open the door.
It’s a two-person room but thankfully, he doesn’t have a roommate tonight.
Frank is reclined in the bed with his eyes closed while two nurses get him situated, checking his vitals and replacing his IV.
Melanie sits in the chair across from the foot of the bed, looking forlorn and exhausted.
“Hey, baby,” I murmur in her ear when I walk in. I drop in the chair next to her and peck a kiss on the side of her temple. She looks caught off guard, like she wasn’t expecting any affection from me. I don’t want to make her uncomfortable, so I pull back. “What’s going on?”
“The nurses are getting him all set up so they can monitor him tonight and then they said he can order some food but that he should rest soon.” Melanie answers me but looks at her dad.
I pick up the hospital room service menu on the small table next to me, slowly looking it over. There’s a section that specifically says Heart Healthy. “What do you want to eat, Frank?” I ask. “You can have some grilled chicken and steamed broccoli…or—”
“I don’t want that garbage,” Frank waves me off. “Let me see that.”
I laugh and step closer, handing him the menu. My own stomach grumbles just from reading the words.
The nurse finishes with his IV and turns to us, a little amused at Frank’s surliness. “How about a nice Turkey sandwich, Frank? A little fruit salad on the side? Crackers and hummus too.”
He tosses the menu back at her. “Fine,” he grumbles.
The nurse pats his arm and says, “I’ll order it.” She taps into an iPad. Then to Mel and me, “The doctor on call should be stopping in shortly.”
Shortly comes before she even leaves the room with a knock on the door. A tall man with neatly styled dark hair steps in, his crisp white coat embroidered with his name: Dr. Sharif. His presence is calm, assured, the kind that fills the room without effort.
“Hello, Mr. Glick, my name is Dr. Sharif. How are you?” He reaches for the hand sanitizer on the wall and pumps some into his palms before putting gloves on.
“I’ve had better days,” Frank admits, resting his head back on the pillows.
I glance at Melanie, but she looks as if she’s fading fast, so I make sure I tune in to the doctor.
Dr. Sharif cracks a smile. “I’m the hospitalist on tonight. I’ve reviewed your chart, and I just want to take a quick listen to make sure everything looks good while you settle in.” He moves toward Frank and starts listening with his stethoscope, murmuring for Frank to take breaths.
“Okay, this sounds good for now. I want you to try and get some rest. If you have any pain or discomfort, let your nurses know and they will page me. Cardiology will be by in the morning.” Dr. Sharif says.
He steps back from Frank just as his food is wheeled in by an orderly. Turning to us, he says, “Did you two have any questions for me tonight?”
Melanie shakes her head.
“I think we’re okay for now, Doc, thanks,” I say, looking back and forth from Melanie to Frank, who is already munching on a piece of watermelon.
“Good. You folks have a good night.”
We sit in silence, watching Frank eat. Melanie’s stomach rumbles next to me and I tilt my head at her. “You’re hungry. Get the banana out of my bookbag.”
“You brought food?”
“Well, we had all that fruit…” I shrug.
Melanie doesn’t reply, but her eyes fill with gratitude. She reaches for my bag and sifts through, pulling out an apple and a banana.
She’s peeling the banana when the nurse pops her head back in.
“You’ll have to leave in just a couple of minutes, you two. You can come back in the morning.” She offers us an apologetic smile.
“Go on, you guys,” Frank says, waving us off. “Let your old man get some rest.”
Melanie passes me her banana and stands, moving to her dad’s bedside. She picks up his hand and squeezes it, planting a soft kiss on his cheek. “You sure you’ll be okay?”
“I’m going to sleep like the dead.” Frank barks out a laugh.
Melanie stares blankly at him.
“Too soon, Frank,” I mutter.
“Okay, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He looks at Melanie. “I love you, my girl. Thank you for taking care of your dear old dad.”
Melanie sniffles, shaking her head. “I didn’t do anything.”
“Hey, you being here is doing something.” Frank reaches up and strokes her face. “Go get some rest.”
“Okay,” Melanie whispers. She steps back and I stand, picking up our things.
“Take it easy, Frank,” I say, putting my hand on the small of Mel’s back. “We’ll be back in the morning.”
“Thanks, Josh,” Frank says. “And thanks for taking care of Melly.”
“You got it.” I wink at him.
“Bye, Daddy.” Melanie sniffles.
I drape my arm around her, and she leans into me, and we walk out the door, just like that.
* * *
Melanie breaks away once we step into the hallway, and I immediately miss the contact.
I get it. We just left her dad lying in a hospital bed, now isn’t the time to talk about us.
But standing this close to her and not knowing where we stand is a special kind of torture.
I press the button on the elevator and Melanie leans against the wall like she needs it to hold her up from the weight of the day.
“How are you holding up?” I ask, watching her carefully.
“I’m exhausted, and starving, and so sad.” Her voice is flat, and her sigh is so heavy, it makes my chest ache.
She does look sad, dark circles rim her blue eyes in exhaustion, grief turning them a steel gray. Her expression is hollow, like her body is here but her mind is somewhere else. The flush is gone from her cheeks, and she looks so weary, I almost offer to carry her to the car.
The elevator dings and we step onto it. I’m grateful it’s just us.
“I’m not sure what’s open around here at nine p.m.,” I say, trying to keep the conversation normal. “I think I saw a McDonald's.”
“McDonald's is fine.” Melanie’s voice is weak, like all ability to fight has left her.
I don’t reply, and we ride in the type of silence that’s filled with everything and nothing at the same time.
I want to say something—God, there is so much I want to say.
That I’m gutted for what she went through.
That I hate myself for not being there, for leaving her to carry it all alone.
That I’m angry she didn’t tell me, and that I don’t know how to make peace with that.
That I love her, still, maybe more than I ever have.
But one look at her and I know it’s not the time.
She’s already carrying enough. So, I swallow it down, let it press hard against my ribs, and instead just reach for her hand when the elevator doors slide open.
She slides her hand into mine without hesitation, and her touch is a small relief. I lead her out to my truck, open the door for her and help her in.
We’re in the drive-thru within five minutes. Melanie orders a quarter-pounder with cheese and a large fry with a Dr. Pepper.
“That sounds good,” I say, and I order the same.
Melanie shoots me a wry look. “Copycat.”
“Couldn’t resist,” I say, giving her a playful smile.
We pull around and pick up our food, and I pull into a parking spot.
“Car picnic?” I ask.
The first glimpse of a smile I’ve seen since we got to the hospital. “Okay.”
I hand her the food, and she takes hers out of the bag before passing it back to me. We eat in silence, both of us too hungry and drained to say much. When I finish, I shove the trash in the bag and start the truck.
Her voice is soft when it breaks the quiet. “Hey. I don’t think I said thank you—for today.”
My breath hitches and I glance at her. “You don’t have to.”
“I know.” She pauses. “Josh, I know we have a lot to talk about—”
“Not tonight.” I shake my head, shifting into drive. “Not like this.”
Melanie settles back in the seat, folding her arms across her chest. She looks out the window and doesn’t say another word for the rest of the ride. She stays silent the whole way up to the room.
Inside, I stride over to the duffel bag that I packed, sitting on one of the queen beds. I pull out Melanie’s pajamas, the ones I know she loves, and toss them to her. “I hope these are okay.”
“Thank you,” she murmurs. Then she pulls off her shirt unceremoniously.
My heart stumbles. I turn away quickly, jaw clenched. I can’t look at her—not like this. Not when everything in me wants to forget the hurt and fall back into the very thing that feels like home.
“I’ll be back,” I say, grabbing my clothes and heading for the bathroom. I splash water on my face, giving myself a pep talk. When I come out, Melanie is tucked in the opposite bed, facing away. I move toward mine.
“Josh.” Her voice catches me off guard.
I stop, my heart lurching. “Yeah?”
“Will you sleep here? With me?”
I hesitate, searching her eyes. “You want me to?” I croak.
Melanie nods. “Please.”
I exhale. “Okay. Move over.”
She pulls back the covers and I slide into bed, flicking off the lamp. Then I gently pull her into me, her back against my chest. Our bodies meld together like they always have. We just fit.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
I only squeeze her tighter.