* * *
Hi Melody,
I know it’s been a while and you probably weren’t expecting to hear from me, but I’m here at boot camp, and wanted to apologize for this letter taking so long to get to you. Things have been hectic, leaving me little time for anything other than training. But, while I have had zero time to think, I spend a lot of nights staring at the metal rods of the bunk above mine. I was figuring you must think I’m a jerk for the way things went down that night at the party. I never called or tried to get in contact with you even though I was the one who initiated the kiss. I want you to know that I think about you a lot, and if I didn’t tell you that night, I have been crushing on you since I was fourteen, but I never wanted to push you. You seemed uneasy around me, and I didn’t want to be the cause of your discomfort. Hearing how you felt that night, though, it took me by surprise. I wasn’t expecting you to say what you did. Honestly, I wasn’t expecting you to speak to me that night, or ever again.
I didn’t have much time to think, having to prepare for boot camp and the end of my senior year, so the timing was awful. I knew both of us would get hurt if I reached out. I would have fallen even harder for you. It would have made my move so challenging. It turns out, once a guy signs papers to enlist in the military, it’s final.
I have about seven weeks left before I graduate and I’m trying my best not to croak, but it’s a lot harder than I thought it would be. I’m not sure being a Marine is for me.
Anyway, I want you to know that I think about you all the time, that night and all the good times we had together growing up. I wish things had worked out differently, but hey, it’s only four years for each of us, mine in the Marines and yours in college, and then who knows … maybe we’ll find each other again, right?
Or, we could be pen pals, as lame as that sounds. You could come to my graduation if you want and then we could spend a little time together before I move onto base this summer. The return address on the envelope is the best way to reach me. I don’t want you to feel obligated to contact me, but if you want to, I’d love to hear back from you. I hope you’re doing well, and as crazy as it sounds, since it’s been so long; I miss you. I miss my friend. I miss the girl I grew up with who had me laughing my butt off at the silliest things. Maybe we’ll get that back someday. I’m not giving up hope.
Take care, Mel.
Sending you a big hug!
—Brett
* * *
And then Brett Pearson grows a pair, sticks a stamp on the damn thing and drops it in the outgoing mail bin, or that’s what I tell myself.
“Dad,” Parker says from the back seat as we sit in the parent looping drop-off line.
“Parker,” I respond, sounding more dad-like than I recall sounding before today.
“I think you're in love,” Parker continues, kicking her feet to the side of her booster seat.
“Um, is there a logical reason for this?” I ask, wondering what she could be picking up on.
“You were in such a good mood last night, and the last time you were in a good mood like that was when we saw Melody at her house for dinner that night. Remember?”
“Parker—”
“Dad,” she mocks me.
“Melody is going through a lot right now.”
“Yes, that’s true, but also, Melody is like a princess stuck up in a tower, waiting for her prince to rescue her. I hope her prince shows up soon and rescues her,” she giggles.What the hell has she been watching? Disney gone wild? “Parker, that’s enough. I don’t know where you’re coming up with this stuff, but you’re talking about things you know nothing about.”
“Dad, I watch Disney every day. I think I know what I’m talking about.”
I agree to disagree with my almost eight-year-old child. It’s the only way out of arguments. That’s what the articles all say. Those articles are freaking stupid. No wonder Brody made fun of me for reading them. What do they know?
“Okay then, my Disney princess. Your chariot has arrived, and your teacher is waiting. I will see you after school, pumpkin.”
“Princess,” she says, correcting me.
“Princess, Parker. I love you.”
“Love you, Dad. Have a magical day!”
Parker is becoming Abby more and more each day. It’s incredible to see Abby’s upbeat, happy, personality run through Parker’sDNA.
As Parker’s drop-off attendant is helping her out of the truck, my phone buzzes with a message from Melody.
* * *
The Girl of my Dreams: I won’t be at the shop for a bit. Car trouble.
* * *
I thumb in a message quickly before I have to pull away. “Bye, Park!” I shout again for good measure.
* * *
Me: I’m dropping Parker off at school now. Do you need a lift?
* * *
The Girl of my Dreams: I need to get the truck towed. It won’t start.
* * *
I can’t say I’m surprised. She’s been driving Harold’s truck since she got home, and that man refused to trade that hunk of metal in because of the sentimental value it held. Granted, the truck has held up well since he maintained it, but it will continue to need that kind of maintenance if she wants to keep using it.
I find it ironic that Parker was comparing Melody to a Disney princess stuck in a tower waiting for her prince to rescue her when I get a text message like this. I should help. I would be following Parker’s advice, which is crazy since she is only seven years old. What is wrong with me?
* * *
Me: Crawley is at the shop. He’ll be okay for a few. I’ll swing by with Jumper Cables.
* * *
A honk of a car horn pulls my thoughts back to the road in front of me. She’s honking because I haven’t pulled away from the curb yet, so I drive away from the looping line and pull off to the parking lot to finish the conversation.
* * *
The Girl of my Dreams: It’s okay, really. I can call a tow company.
* * *
Me: Or I can try to jump it, so you don’t have to call the tow company.
* * *
The Girl of my Dreams: I’m not a damsel in distress.
* * *
Parker thinks you are …
* * *
Me: I know, but it’s okay to be a damsel with a broken truck. Be there soon.
With the morning town traffic, it takes me longer than I’d like to get to Melody’s house. I see the truck in the driveway with the hood up, and the front door open with the storm door blocking the cold air from getting inside. I sent her a quick text to let her know I’m here.
* * *
Me: I’m outside.
* * *
After five minutes and no response, I knock on the door since she must not have her phone with her. I wait a couple more minutes in front of her door, and there is no answer, so I ring the bell, and while it doesn’t seem to be too loud, there’s still no answer.
I open the storm door, find it unlocked, and call into the house, “Anyone home?”
No answer. What the hell is going on?
I walk down the main foyer, poking my head down the hall and into the TV room and dining room before finding my way into the kitchen where Melody is flat on her back on the floor with her eyes closed. Jesus. I drop to my knees, checking to see if she’s breathing but I notice a semi-smile on her face, and she’s doing that cute girl snore that I will not mention after she wakes up.
“Hey, you left your front door open. Are you okay?” I ask loud enough to wake her, but not so loud to startle her into having a heart attack.
Her eyes flash open, and she sits up, brushing her hair out of her face. “Oh my God, I fell asleep.”
She’s adorable even when she’s a mess. I tilt my head to the side. “On the kitchen floor?”
She forces me to try out the radiant heating on her kitchen floor as she explains her reason for falling asleep in such an odd place. Being distracted by the thought that
Melody was unconscious on the kitchen floor, I almost forgot why I came here in the first place. It isn’t to make-out on her mother’s kitchen floor. That would be hard to explain if she came home and walked in on us. “If you want to stay warm, I can take care of the truck. I just need the keys.”
“Don’t you need two people to jump a car?” she asks.
“I can handle it. Stay warm.”
“Thank you,” she says, standing up with me from the floor.
Maybe it wouldn't be appropriate to take advantage of her on the kitchen floor, but it’s okay to lean over and kiss her cheek. It means more than “I think I like you” but less than “I’d like to take you right here and have my way with you.”
“Anything for you,” I say.
I tend to the truck outside, doing my best to pretend that I don’t see her watching me from the window like a lovesick woman gawking at a hot, shirtless landscaper. I don’t mind the attention. I’m just going to pray that the jumper cables work so I don’t look like a moron who can’t jump a car. Of course, the battery could be completely dead, and I’d be out of luck, but here’s to hoping.
It takes me about ten minutes to give the battery enough juice to run, but I don’t think it’s going to recover completely. She will need a new battery. I flip the vanity light off so she doesn’t realize that checking her make-up in the mirror and leaving the light on may have contributed to the battery dying. Old batteries can die when the temperature outside is cold, so I’ll let her go with that thought.
I make my way back into the house where Melody is waiting with two mugs. “All set, but I think the battery is a goner. The cold air was just the straw that broke the camel’s back. It’s time for a new one, but I can help you out, so you don’t have to pay an arm and a leg to a mechanic.”
She’s giving me that loving look like I just saved her day. If only she were in a tower, I’d tell Parker everything about Disney is real. “You’re a sweet guy, you know?” Melody hands over one of the mugs, and I look inside to find hot chocolate.
“Only to the people I like,” I say, making her blush.
The time quickly passes as we finish our hot drinks, and she takes the mug from my hand and brings it to the sink before turning around to face me as if there’s something she needs to say.
I have never felt so damn out of control in my life. “Yesterday, I enjoyed showing you where the labels were,” I say before realizing how ridiculous I sound.
“I’m glad I know where to find them now,” she says, sounding breathless as I take a couple of steps in toward her. I enjoy making her squirm a bit. It’s nice to know the feelings are mutual.
I lean forward and reach my arm over her shoulder, and she closes her eyes, preparing for something other than me, turning the faucet on behind her. “Do you mind if I rinse my hands off really quick? I have some grease on my fingers and I don’t want to mess up your mom’s house.”
Melody’s mouth falls open with shock and maybe a little anger or embarrassment. It’s okay to tease as long as I follow up on it after. She tries to step to the side, so I can wash my hands, but I press my body against hers and press my lips to the side of her neck.
I’m going to hell, but it will be worth it.
She lets out a soft noise that sounds like a cry and a plea mixed together. I can’t take it. I straighten my posture and touch my nose to hers, staring into her eyes before moving any further. She loops her arms around my neck and scratches her fingernails along the base of my hairline. I feel like I’m losing control which I’m a little uneasy about as we are still in the kitchen, on display for whoever else may walk in.
I take her lips as if I own them and show her what she’s doing to me with so little effort. I feel like I can’t get close enough, yet there’s no space left between us. I devour her tongue and tug on her bottom lip, tasting the sweetness from her hot cocoa. “You taste like chocolate,” I mutter into her mouth.
“You are the happiness I need,” she responds.
I trace my fingers down the side of her face, wanting only to offer her a permanent form of happiness.
22
One-and-a-half years later
As a teenager, it’s rare to look at someone and see a future mapped out with them, and the thought of marriage isn’t a typical subject to cross a young man’s mind, but after seeing death and destruction year after year, then experiencing loss, I’ve come to realize a new truth. The promise of what happens tomorrow is not written in permanent ink because forever is not etched in stone for everyone.
When Melody stepped back into my life, I knew there was a greater reason than being there to hold her up in a time of need. It wasn’t long after our first interaction that something in my head said, “She’s the one. Marry her. Spend forever with her.”
Like any good romance, there was the first kiss and then the second kiss that trumped the first. Of course, there are always ups and downs that prove the strength of our feelings. One of those downs was having to fight off her ex, who wanted to come claim his “girl” a week after Harold died. It wasn’t a hard battle to fight, even though I was nervous at the time. I proved that sometimes a little space and quiet mean more than the pleas of someone who has already ruined his chances.
In truth, I won without a battle. There was no contest and it was proof that Melody and I were meant for each other.
Though life was anything but simple over the last year, we had each other. I was there for Melody in every way possible and each day we spent together was better than the one before. Our passion grew increasingly strong, day by day. It was amazing. We couldn’t keep our hands off each other, and it was more than initial lust, it was caged love—love that had been sitting and waiting to be released between us.
I fell in love with Melody Quinn fast and hard, and it was the most incredible feeling I have experienced. I am her rock and I hold her up when times get tough. She has bonded with Parker, and the two have formed a relationship I only dreamt about for my daughter. So, all in all, life has been my version of perfection, and I knew there was only one step left.
Marry her.
I need to marry Melody Quinn, make her mine, keep her forever.
There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that Melody would say yes when I proposed. We are best friends, lovers, and soulmates, and we spend more time together than most couples, enjoying every minute of it. I know without a doubt I cannot spend a day without her by my side. I need her forever.
We’ve worried about today, our wedding day—how one of the most important people in Melody’s life will be missing, but we are determined to create a version of perfection that would make Harold proud.
With the priest on my left and Brody on my right, I feel like I’ve won a jackpot as I wait for the double doors across the church to open.
“Are you nervous?” Brody asks, elbowing me in the side.
“No,” I tell him. “Why would I be?”
“Uh, forever, hello?”
“Yeah, that doesn’t scare me.” I glance over at him. “You are seriously the worst best man.”
“Then my job here is complete,” he says with a grin.
The music bellows from the church organ and my heart races with anticipation, waiting impatiently to see the large white doors open, revealing the girl of my dreams. Both girls, I should say.
The doors open and Parker is the first to make her way through the bright sunlight pouring in from the floor to ceiling windows in the foyer. She’s dressed in a beautiful white princess gown, one she and Melody spent weeks shopping for. Parker is beaming with Abby’s smile as she times each step and scatters a handfuls of rose petals on the red runner.
She’s been practicing for weeks, perfecting her march down the aisle. Pops stands from his seat to snag her up at the end and I hear a silent cheer of, “I did it!”
The music changes to the Wedding March, a slow orchestral version of the traditional song Melody has dreamed of hearing while she walks down the aisle, linked at
the arms by Mrs. Quinn and Journey.
Melody is beaming in every way possible. Her cheeks are flushed and glowing from the slight shimmer in her makeup, and the green color of her eyes flash and sparkle in the sunlight. A choky feeling rushes through my throat as she approaches me, and all I can think is, I can’t believe how lucky I am after everything I’ve been through. If someone told me twelve years ago what I would have to go through to win the girl of my dreams, I’d do it all again for this moment.
Mrs. Quinn kisses Melody’s cheek and takes a seat, second chair in from the right side, leaving the first chair open for Harold.
Journey takes the bouquet of sun gazer lilies from Melody’s hand and steps to the side, opposite of Brody and I take my girl’s hands, knowing I never have to let her go again.
The words that Melody and I wrote and promise to live by, float through air as the minister recites them just before our final vows. We take turns slipping rings onto each other’s fingers, and our kiss is full with the promise of tomorrow and currents of electricity striking every nerve in my body. We won. It’s the finale, and a new beginning.
“I love you,” I whisper just before hearing the announcement that we are husband and wife.
“I love you,” she replies, “forever.”
There isn’t a dry face in the church as Melody and I step hand in hand down toward the aisle. I don’t know who arranged this but I notice a bottle of bourbon resting in a plush bed of roses on Harold’s seat. There is a bow neatly wrapped around the neck, and the label is stark white with the words “Mr. & Mrs.” scripted in black ink. Beneath, are the words: “Here is my blessing.”
Bourbon Nights (The Barrel House Series Book 3) Page 17
