Chapter 43
MELANIE
Ilooked over at my mom, and she took a swig of her flask, and for a second, I saw myself in her. I didn’t want to end up like my mom. If I followed anything she said, that’s the path I was on, right down the road of destruction.
The car ride home was silent except for my mother’s occasional hiccup and the engine’s soft hum.
I gripped the steering wheel, my fingers white-knuckled against the leather.
The city lights blurred past, neon smearing across the windshield as I navigated the late-night traffic.
Next to me, my mother slumped against the door, her head lolling, mascara smudged under her eyes.
She reeks of vodka and expensive perfume—the kind she used to save for special occasions.
Now, it clung to her skin like a second layer of regret.
“I don’t wanna go back to your house,” she mumbled, voice thick and slurred.
“You don’t have a choice, Mom.” I keep my eyes on the road, my jaw clenched. She laughs, but it’s brittle, hollow.
“You sound like him.”
The words send a shiver down my spine. “Don’t.”
She shifts in her seat, eyes fluttering open just enough to look at me. “You do, though. Bossing me around like I’m some helpless little thing. You think I don’t know how pathetic I am?”
I swallow the lump in my throat. “I never said that.”
She scoffs. “You don’t have to.”
The street lights flicker through the car, illuminating her face in brief flashes.
She used to be beautiful—sharp cheekbones, bright blue eyes, the kind of woman who turned heads when she walked into a room.
But now, there’s a hollow space where that woman used to be.
I don’t know if it’s the alcohol or the truth that gutted her.
“I tried, you know?” she whispers.
“I tried so hard to be better. For you. For me. I spent years clawing my way out of that bottle, and then…” She trails off, shaking her head.
And then she found out. About Richard. About what he did to me.
I take a shaky breath, my hands aching from how hard I’m holding onto the wheel.
“Drinking won’t fix it. I’ve learned that much by being sober myself.”
“I wasn’t that bad tonight,” she mumbles, slurring the words together.
That made me flinch, but I forced myself to stay calm. I swallowed hard, keeping my voice steady.
“You promised me, Mom.”
She scoffs, low and bitter. “Yeah, well. Promises don’t mean much, do they?”
I know what she’s thinking about. The man she married.
The house she fought so hard to keep. The lie she lived in for years until everything cracked open.
She loved him. Or maybe she just loved what he gave her—stability, security, a life she never thought she’d have.
And then she found out what he did to me.
Now, she drinks. I tighten my grip on the wheel.
“You’re not the one who should be drowning, Mom.”
She turns to look at me, her eyes glassy. “What the hell else am I supposed to do, Mel? Just leave? Walk away with nothing?” She lets out a shaky breath. “You don’t know what it’s like to be poor. I do. That’s why I wanted more for you. I can’t go back to that life. I can’t”
I pulled up to Nick's house. The house that grew on me but my mom stares at it like she’s looking like it’s a prison. And the irony dawns on me. How she feels about her situation now is exactly how I felt about our old house. Anxiety coursed through my veins.
How did this happen? How was I any different? I never wanted to be like her, but here I was on the path to destruction.
Alexa was right. I married a man for a better life, just like my mom. Guess the only difference was Nick wasn’t a monster like Richard, and even though we started out as strangers, it feels like we’ve known each other for years now. And we’re lightyears ahead of when we began.
“You still have a choice,” I say, my voice quiet. “You don’t have to stay with him..”
She continues to stare at Nick’s house like it might swallow her whole.
“If I leave, I have nothing.” Her voice is barely a whisper now. “No money. No security. Just…nothing.”
“You have me,” I say, even though I’m not sure that’s enough.
She turns to face me, and something flickers in her eyes. Hope? Guilt? Regret? I don’t know. Then, just as quickly, she looks away, reaching for the door handle, and exhales, “There are worse things than staying, Mel.”
The moment she stumbles out, I watch her disappear into the house. I don’t follow. I just sit there, gripping the wheel, trying to convince myself that I can still save her. But for the first time, I think she’s already gone.
I woke to the sound of Nick’s footsteps. My eyes flickered open, adjusting to the dim morning light filtering through the curtains. The clock read nine
“Good morning.” He murmured, slipping under the covers beside me, his warmth immediately seeping into my skin.
I hummed in appreciation as he handed me a steaming mug. “Coffee.”
“Thank you.” I whispered, cupping it between both hands, before taking a slow sip. The heat spread through me, igniting my senses, shaking off the last remnants of sleep.
“Is my mom still asleep?” I asked, my voice still thick with drowsiness.
“Yeah, she’s out cold. I tried to be quiet in the kitchen, but I figured she'd have woken up by now with all the clanking.”
I scoffed. “That’s the only good thing about her drinking. She sleeps like a rock and is out cold.”
Nick chuckled softly, but his eyes were laced with something deeper. “Are you okay? I didn’t get a chance to talk to you last night.”
My chest tightens. I remembered how he had curled up beside me, his arms wrapping around me like a shield after I had cried myself to sleep—-another night mourning the reality that my mother would never leave that man.
Even now, after learning the truth about Richard.
I refused to call him my stepfather anymore.
“I don’t know. I admitted, staring into the dark liquid in my mug. At this point, I don’t know what to say or do. She’s terrified of leaving him. She’s comfortable in that life, and I don’t think she’ll ever walk away.
“That’s her choice.” Nick turned toward me, his gaze unwavering. “You walked away. You could always go back to a better life.”
I turned to face him, forcing a small family. “Are you saying I went down in life?”
“No,” he said, tilting his head. “You went up—because you have a man who truly–” He stopped short, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard.
“Someone who what?” I pressed, heart hammering.
He hesitated, then reached for my hand, his fingers brushing against the ring on my finger. “Cares for you.”
I exhaled through my nose, a flicker of disappointment settling in my chest. Those weren’t the three words I was hoping for, but they were a step in the right direction—a stretch from where we had come.
“Are you saying…the feelings you have for me are real?”
His eyes locked onto mine, flickering between uncertainty and something deeper. “I’m saying there’s no way I would let you go. Not now. Not when I finally have you in my bed, in my life…in my toxic heart.”
Emotions swelled in my throat. I looked away, blinking back the sting in my eyes. “Nick, I—” me like smoke.
“Don’t say anything,” he breathed. “Just let me hear you moan my name as you fuck my face. Let my mouth do the talking—let me remind you how real this is… by making you forget everything else.”
The words detonated in my chest, sending heat surging to my center like wildfire. My pulse drummed in my ears. My breath caught.
I watched, heart in my throat, as he slid lower on the bed—his movements slow, intentional, predatory.
He hooked his fingers into the waistband of my pajama pants and pulled them down inch by excruciating inch, baring me like a gift he couldn’t wait to unwrap.
His smirk was pure sin, his emerald eyes shadowed with ravenous desire.
“Mrs. Console,” he rasped, his breath hot against my skin, a whisper that licked over me like fire. “May I make you cum in my mouth?”
A violent tremble ripped through me, my whole body tight with need.
The possessiveness in his voice—the filthy reverence—lit something primal inside me.
My lips parted on a gasp, my head nodding because words failed me.
I could barely breathe, barely think, as he reached for the lace edge of my panties—
Ding dong.
The doorbell sliced through the moment like a blade.
We froze. Silence stretched thick, stunned, obscene in its cruelty.
I stared down at him, still panting, the air between us electric and full of everything we were just about to lose.
“Are you fucking kidding me,” I whispered.
“Shit,” he growled under his breath, his head dropping against my thigh. I groaned in frustration. “Who the hell is that?”
“No idea, but their timing sucks,” He sat up, already irritated.
“You want me to–?”
“No,” He cut me off. “I'll get rid of them. You stay right here so I can come back and serenade that perfect fucking body of yours.”
I giggled, tossing my pajama pants at him as he jogged down the stairs. I snuggled back under the covers with a smirk, reaching for my phone.
Then I heard it.
“Hi, can I help you?” Nick’s voice was casual at first.
“Yes, I’m looking for Michelle, my wife.”
My blood turned to ice. I shot up in bed, my heart hammering against my ribs. I know that voice. It had been months since I’d heard it—months since I had even spoken to him.
And now…he was here. Looking for my mom, his wife, and standing in front of my husband.