Rogue (Real #4)(77)
We board. I even go as far as sliding my suitcase into the top plane compartment. And I remember him in the rain. I remember every single thing he’s done for me.
“I’ve got your car.”
“Be home tonight.”
“My life has come at a high price too. Every day of it. So many days trying to find some f*cked-up meaning in it.”
“Am I the first man you’ve cooked for?”
“You got me, princess. Jesus! Do you not see what you’re doing to me? You have all of me, Melanie. I’m states away and I feel like half a man, I feel like I’ll tear something apart if I don’t see you soon with my own two eyes . . .”
“I know you’ve used sex to stop feeling lonely too long, Melanie, and I know you’re the loveliest thing I’ve ever seen, always trying to make the best of everything. Giving every frog a chance, because you were given that chance, right? So why would you deny a chance to someone? Anyone? Even a f*cking * like me?”
He carried me . . . I suddenly remember how he carried me, home, while bleeding from a cut I gave him, and set me on my bed, filled up my bathtub, and squeezed my hand. He protected me. Held me. Tried to warn me against him because he didn’t want to hurt me but somehow, like me, he couldn’t stay away. I see it so clearly. The LOOK he gives me? That’s what’s real. That look is real. None of that other bullshit matters.
The gratitude and ferocity in his eyes when I cooked for him and he felt . . . accepted.
The times he opened up to how he felt about me. Him!—a man who’s not used to probably feeling anything at all.
The way he knows me. All along, he has known every good and bad thing about me, and still he looks at me like I’m the most precious diamond of diamonds.
Suddenly I remember Brooke telling me OWN THIS, MELANIE! You’ve been looking all your life, fight for it!
“Pan,” I whisper, my feelings for him intensifying until I feel like screaming or imploding because I won’t, I refuse, to live with this bottled up. To live alone when I can have him. Will fear keep me from my guy? My man? My rogue? My hands are shaking as I unlatch my seat belt and almost stumble out of my seat before they close the door. “I’ll see you in Seattle.”
“What do you mean? Dude, I’m afraid of flying and I just popped a f*cking sleeping pill and you know it!”
“Don’t stop me. I don’t want you to stop me. Please. Please, Pan! I want him. I love him.”
I don’t let her convince me of how stupid I’m being, or how reckless. I feel a lurch of excitement within me at the mere thought of running back into his arms, and my insides are jangling and out of control as I barely get out of the plane before they shut the door. I sprint down the airport terminal, trying to find Derek.
“Derek!” I call, hurrying in the hopes of catching him. I’m bounding through some sliding doors when another man in cowboy boots and a checkered shirt stops me.
“Holy shit, that’s you!” he says.
“What?” I blink and take in the young man. He has the sort of face I remember seeing on many other men, plain and friendly, but a pair of sunglasses shields his eyes and for the life of me, I just don’t remember meeting him before.
“Melanie. You’re Melanie,” he repeats, speaking the word like he just found gold.
“Do I know you?” I ask, glancing past his shoulder while praying to see a glimpse of Derek’s big, broad back. Suddenly I can’t stand it; I want to go back and stand before Grey and say, I love you. I love you and I trust you and we’re going to make it work. Somehow. You f*cking *, you’re my prince whether you want to be or not!
“No, you don’t know me yet.” The young man grins and extends his hand. “I’m Greyson’s brother, Wyatt. I overheard that you were leaving. I even thought I’d missed your flight, and yet here I was hoping I’d convince you to stay.” His eyes twinkle as though he knows about Greyson and me, what we have between us. What we just lost because I’m a chicken and he was being . . . noble.
Noble.
And letting me go.
The anxiety to see him increases by the second. “Are you going to see him now? Where are you going? I was hoping for a ride.”
“Actually, first I was going to see Greyson’s mother.”
“What?” The joy I feel almost doubles me over. “You know where she is?”
“I just found out myself, but shh. Don’t tell Greyson first, it’s a surprise. My father’s not doing so good . . . he’s been in the hospital for days and doesn’t have much longer.”
I’m nearly bowled over by the news. Bowled over with happiness, hope, anticipation. “Omigod.” My eyes blur as I think of what this will mean for Greyson. After how many years will he finally see his own mother?
“Wanna come and bring her to him?” Wyatt suddenly offers.
“YES!”
TWENTY-THREE
* * *
NEWS
Greyson
The text comes from Melanie’s phone, but immediately my gut freezes when I realize whoever is writing is not her.
Congratulations. You won.
I text back, And you are?
Melanie forgot her phone in the plane. This is Pandora. You won, I hope you’re happy. She’s on her way back to you. She’s blindly, hopelessly in love with f*cking ole you.