Losing Track (Living Heartwood #2)(80)

“It’s okay. Just a dream.”

I hear Mel’s raspy voice, feel her touch against my back, and turn to see her lying near me on her side. Covers pulled up and tucked around her breasts. Her red and black hair splayed across the pillow.

She’s still here.

I fall back against the bed, stare at the ceiling. Then I’m on my side facing her, ignoring the twinge of pain from my ribs because I love seeing the sleepy look on her face, the freshly awoken gleam in her gaze. I run my fingers through her hair. “You’re still here.”

Her smile spreads. “I’m still here. You’re not getting rid of me—I promise. But I do have to take a crazy morning pee.”

I chuckle. And notice that my morning wood is not going down quick enough; she’s too sexy first thing in the morning. “I may have to wait a painfully long time.” I sigh, feeling my wood grow into a full-on boner. Awesome.

“I’ll suffer with you,” she says, winking. “Besides, I’ve been lying here trying to figure out how to tell you something.”

Moving closer to her, I lay my hand on her hip, splay my fingers along the slim dip of her waist. “We don’t have to pretend things are going to come easy to us, Mel. We have a lifetime of prep for this part, let’s keep it real, okay? Just tell me.”

She nods against the pillow. “That’s what I love about you, guy. Awkward honesty and all.” Pushing herself up onto her elbow, she leans into me, her lips finding mine. I kiss her back tenderly, still overwhelmed and relieved that she decided to stay—to stick it out. For now, that’s all either of us can do.

Pulling away, she rests her forehead to mine. Inhales a shaky breath. “Being sober…it’s going to be hard, Boone.” She leans back and pulls her bottom lip between her teeth before she adds, “I can’t do this for anyone else. It has to be for me. And I’m going to f*ck up…probably a lot.”

I remove my hand from her waist and clasp her chin, run my finger over her pouty bottom lip. “I’m no saint, Mel.”

She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, right. I don’t have half the determination you do.”

I feel my brow furrow. “Yes, you do. And we’ll figure all this out. Day one starts here. One second at a time, right?”

A tear rolls down her cheek, and I clear it away with my thumb. “Just promise me patience,” she says. “I won’t ask for anything else, or anything more.”

A smile stretches my lips. “You already have so much more of me than that…you never have to ask.”

She nods shakily. “All right. Then I need to call Jacquie.”

I tilt my head in confusion, and she says, “I need to check in and also get her to help me with something.”

“Okay. But first, a pact.” I sit up and turn toward the nightstand, to where she keeps the matching bandana to the one she wears daily. I grab it and hope that I’m not pushing her too hard, too fast.

But I long since learned the darkness doesn’t let you leave, you have to light your own candle and find a way to live among it. And she’s going to have to keep whatever promise she made to her friend before she can start to put the past behind her.

Sliding up next to her again, I wrap the bandana around her wrist. “Have you said your proper goodbye yet?”

A stream of tears leak from the corners of her eyes, and she sniffs them back with a jerk of her head. “I’m saving that for in person. I promised I’d get her out of our hometown, away from her dad…and now she’s right back there again. I can’t leave her there.”

A lot more of this woman comes into focus, and my heart feels like it’s being crushed. I wrap my arms around her, and say, “I’ll help you keep that promise. Whatever you need, we’ll do it together, all right? Pact?”

She nods. “All right. Pact.”

As I kiss her, trying my damndest to make her forget her pain, I make my own vow.

Not just for myself, or Hunter, or because it’s the right thing to do. But because it’s time to finally embark on that last step.





Melody





28 Days Later


SHOVING MY FRESHLY LAUNDERED clothes into my trash bag, I grumble, “I cannot believe we actually have to walk out with a flipping trash bag. It’s so…trashy.”

A hearty laugh sounds from behind me, and I smile. “Really?” I heave another pair of jeans into the bag. “Come on, Nurse Bridge, you can do better than this.”

Nurse Bridge snatches the trash bag out of my hand and gives me a glaring look. “You know, I’ve had some stubborn, cranky patients before, but you take the cake, princess.” She shakes her head, all serious, and I can’t help but smile.

“You know you’ll miss me. Just admit it.”

Her smile drops, and I feel the seriousness of this moment pressing on me, like the room is shrinking, walls closing in.

This is it.

“I won’t miss you,” she says, plopping my bag on the bed, then fisting her hands on her wide hips. “And you know why? Because I never want to see you in here again. I mean that.”

With a heavy breath, I nod. “I know.”

“Do you?” She cocks her head. “I told you once, you’re different. And I’ll be damned if you didn’t prove just that. It’s rare when a patient who’s forced into rehab actually turns right around and readmits themselves voluntarily. That doesn’t happen often, Mel. And you better not waste this chance—it’s even more of a rarity.”