Chapter 5
MELISSA
I shouldn’t be pinning my hopes on a man I barely know.
Ever since I got off the phone with Tyler this morning, I’ve been trying to remind myself of it.
Just because he said he’d help doesn’t mean he actually will.
He could change his mind. Decide I’m too much trouble. That I’m not worth the effort.
I’m a criminal, after all. No, I was never actually brought up on charges.
But that doesn’t change what I did. I hurt Gage.
Tried to hurt Rory. I’m the villain of the story, instead of one of the innocent victims Tyler and his team at Blade and Arrow dedicate their lives to protecting.
Why would Tyler spend his time helping me when there are so many more deserving people out there?
But he said he understood, a little voice in my head stubbornly insists. You told him who you were, and he stayed. He acted like he liked you. He even held your hand.
Yes. All those things are true. But sitting across from me for a couple hours in the Lakeside Inn pub isn’t remotely the same as flying across the country to help with this mess I’ve found myself in.
It’s better to assume the worst, I keep telling myself. Less disappointment that way.
Whenever my hopes start to rise—thinking of how quickly Tyler took control, how he didn’t hesitate to offer to come out to New York—I quickly try to tamp them back down. Then I try to work through how I can fix things on my own, just in case Tyler changes his mind about helping me.
But, oh, I so hope he doesn’t.
Not just because Tyler is smart—he’s the computer expert for his team, he explained, and he heads up the online investigations for all their cases—and brave and kind. Not just because I’m certain he could handle this mess so much better than me.
But because…
I don’t want to admit it, even to myself.
It seems crazy to feel this way. Like it’s far, far too soon.
After Vince died, I couldn’t imagine ever being with another man. The very idea seemed incomprehensible. I loved Vince with all my heart. And when he left me, it was like he took my heart along with him.
But there’s just this feeling I get whenever I think about Tyler.
And I desperately want him here.
I want him to hold my hand again.
I want to hear him tell me in his low, rumbly voice that everything’s going to be okay.
Maybe it’s crazy feeling this way about him. But I can’t change it. It just is.
For probably the hundredth time today, I glance at the clock on the wall to check the time. It’s five-fifty-six, which is two minutes later than the last time I looked.
Almost six, I note. The time Tyler said he’d try to be here. But will he? Really? Or is he hightailing it back to Portland at this very moment, wishing he’d never made his spontaneous offer to begin with?
On the heels of that thought, shame washes over me.
Tyler’s never given me reason to doubt him.
Even though we’ve only known each other for about three hours, total, he’s done nothing to indicate he’s a man who’d go back on his word.
All this doubt and skepticism isn’t because of his actions, but my insecurity.
It sucks, because I didn’t used to be this way. Before Vince died, I was a natural optimist, and I always saw the best in people. If someone told me they’d do something, I believed them. If I came upon a hurdle in life, I just assumed I would leap right over it.
I don’t like this new person I’ve become. It’s not who I want to be. I want to be old Melissa, who smiled all the time and thought life was all sunshine and rainbows. Who saw her future as this wide-open road leading to everything she’d dreamed of.
Even as I’m thinking about it, something Rory said comes back to me. We’ve stayed in touch ever since she hooked me up with Oscar, and I drive out to Vermont to help with her dog shelter every month or so—partly to make amends, and partly because I just like being around Rory.
“After I lost my parents,” Rory told me, “I felt like a different person. I spent a long time wishing I could get the old Rory back. But eventually, I began to accept the person I’d become.
Yes, I was different. But different doesn’t have to be bad.
Sometimes it can open up new opportunities.
Introduce you to people you wouldn’t have otherwise met. ”
I knew she was thinking about meeting Gage. And how everything in her life led her to that moment. How, despite the tragedy and struggles she’d been through, she ended up happier than she ever imagined.
Could the same thing happen with me and Tyler?
Could the path I’m on possibly bring me the same happiness Rory found?
But Rory didn’t lose her shit and hold a gun on two innocent people, I remind myself. It’s not the same thing. She deserved to find happiness. And I—
“How are you feeling?” Griffin asks, drawing my attention to him. For the last half an hour or so, he’s been standing just outside the doorway, keeping watch. But he likes to check on me every so often, either to ask how I’m feeling or give me an update on Oscar.
His gaze moves across my face, carefully assessing. He moves into the room, his eyes still on me, not because he wants to stare at me, but because he wants to make sure I’m not suffering some sort of horrible complication from my injuries.
I’m not, as far as I know. My head hurts, and I’m slightly lightheaded and nauseous.
My body aches. The painkillers I took earlier are starting to wear off, and my broken wrist feels like it’s on fire.
But as the doctor told me, all those things are to be expected.
As long as I don’t start throwing up or hallucinating, I shouldn’t worry.
“You were lucky, considering,” the doctor told me.
“You’ve got a simple, un-displaced fracture in your wrist, which means you don’t need surgery.
Your concussion is moderate, and the scans don’t show any bleeding or significant swelling.
After a few weeks of taking it easy, you should be good as new. ”
I wanted to laugh at him when he called me lucky.
A stranger broke into my house and beat me up over some drugs I allegedly promised him.
I’m in the hospital. My dog is sitting in a kennel at the local animal hospital after one of my neighbors found him, probably scared and confused and wondering where I am.
And someone—the same guy who beat me up?
Or another person?—keeps playing malicious tricks on me.
Except, can you call them tricks when they aren’t funny at all? When some of the things that happened could have cost me my job?
Deep in my thoughts, I startle when Griffin asks, “Melissa? Are you feeling worse than before?” Worry creases his features as he approaches my bed. “Can you tell me what’s wrong? Do you need me to get the doctor?”
Giving myself a mental shaking, I quickly reply, “Oh, no. I’m good.”
His eyebrows arch skeptically. “You’re good?”
“Well,” I amend, realizing how idiotic that sounded. “Maybe not good. But I’m not worse. I was just thinking, is all.”
“Okay…” Griffin eyes the monitor recording my pulse and oxygen levels. “Everything looks okay there,” he notes. “Pulse a little high, but being in the hospital, that’s to be expected.”
“How’s Oscar?” I ask. “Have you heard anything else from the animal hospital?”
“I haven’t heard anything new since the last time I called,” he replies. Which, now that I’m thinking about it, was less than an hour ago. “But I can call again, if you want.”
I want to say yes. That I can’t stop worrying about Oscar, even though the vet said he’s perfectly fine. That I keep worrying that the man who attacked me will somehow break into the animal hospital and hurt Oscar, just to punish me.
But I don’t say any of those things. Instead, I reply, “No, that’s okay. I don’t want to bother them.”
Griffin’s stony features soften. “It wouldn’t be bothering them. If you’re worried...”
“I know it’s stupid. The vet said Oscar’s fine.”
“It’s not stupid,” he replies. “If I were in your situation, and Henry was in the animal hospital, I’d be worried, too. Not because there’s any reason. But because he’s my dog, and it’s impossible not to.”
Not for the first time, I think about how fitting it was that Tyler asked Griffin to come to the hospital.
Tyler called me from the Portland airport, minutes before taking off, to let me know he had a friend coming to watch over me.
“Not that I think anything bad is going to happen,” he explained.
“I’d just feel better having someone I trust to watch out for you. ”
So he called his old Army buddy, Griffin, who also used to be a Green Beret. “Griffin’s a great guy,” Tyler told me. “He lives out in Syracuse, working for the K9 unit. And he loves dogs, just like you. I already spoke to him, and he’s on his way.”
I’ll admit, it’s been nice having someone who understands my concern. I didn’t have to explain why I was worried about Oscar. Griffin just knew. Plus, whenever I start to get upset, he distracts me with stories about the antics of his dog, Henry, until I’m feeling more in control again.
“It’s really okay,” I assure Griffin, feeling guilty about the ten-plus times he’s called the vet already. “I’m sure Oscar’s fine. And anyway, I bet the place is closed. Most of the animal hospitals around here close by six at the latest. So there won’t be anyone to answer the phone...”
Or check on Oscar.
Give him scratches between his ears, just the way he likes.
Give him his evening treat.
Take him on his nightly walk.
A lump swells in my throat as I think about Oscar alone in his kennel, without his memory foam bed and his favorite toys and me to keep him company. My nose starts to prickle. Tears burn behind my eyes.
Dropping my gaze to my lap in hopes of hiding the threatening tears, I notice my hands are shaking.
“Melissa?” Griffin touches my arm. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
The lump grows even larger, until it’s hard to force my words past it. Nodding, I manage a choked, “I’m fine.”
But I’m not fine.