Let's Not & Say We Did (The Love Game Book 5)

by Elizabeth Hayley

  After settling back into her chair with her cup in her hands, she said, “I’m not sure if Ransom ever told you this, but the reason we never had more children after Emily was born was because we couldn’t. We’d always wanted a big family since Matt and I both come from them, but I guess the universe had other plans for us.”

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered, needing to say something but not wanting to sound like I was interrupting her.

  “It’s okay,” she said almost as softly. “Life has a way of giving you only what you can handle.”

  Melissa sounded more religious than she claimed, but maybe spiritual more accurately described her.

  “I had two miscarriages before Emily and one after. As soon as Em was a year old or so, our family and friends would ask when we were going to have our second. When we didn’t have one by the time Emily was three, people went from asking us about it to telling us just to be patient and it would happen when we least expected it.”

  Her chest rose with the breath she’d taken, and once she released it, she rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “People mean well, but sometimes they say the wrong thing because they feel like they need to say something, you know?” I did, but now wasn’t the time to vocalize that. “And usually they end up being wrong. We gave it a few more years, but staring at a single pink line every time I was a few days late became so emotionally draining. I eventually realized we were missing out on moments with the child we did have because we were putting so much energy into one we didn’t.”

  Melissa shrugged. “So we decided we couldn’t do that to ourselves any longer. We had this beautiful, smart, sassy-as-hell little girl. What did we have to be upset about? It didn’t happen overnight, but eventually we accepted that our imaginary family of four or five or six would be three.”

  I thought I could see where this was going, but I waited for Melissa to take it there. It wasn’t my story to tell.

  She talked for longer than I’d expected about the birthdays and the family camping trips and about the three-hour drive to pick up Buddy from a breeder near her sister’s house. The way she told the stories made me think it had been a long time since she’d spoken about them. I was glad she got to share all of it because the light in her eyes told me that talking about Emily brought her memory to life in a way Melissa didn’t often get to experience. And I was even more happy it’d been me she’d shared them with.

  “It was Emily’s freshman year of high school when Ransom came to live with us. The second child we didn’t think we’d ever have,” she said. “The one who we realized somehow needed us less than we needed him.”

  I thought that was a beautiful way to look at it, like Ransom brought more happiness to the Holts than they thought they brought to him. Though I didn’t think Ransom would agree.

  “That picture of them in the snow was taken a few months after Ransom joined our family. It was his first Christmas with us, and of all the years I’ve lived in Georgia, I’ve maybe seen it snow a handful of times.” Her eyes looked lost in the memory, like she was daydreaming in a way that felt real to her. I couldn’t help but feel like my presence intruded on a private moment that I couldn’t begin to understand. “Guess there were two miracles that year,” she said with a smile.

  I had no idea how Melissa wasn’t crying, because I felt like if I blinked too hard, the dam might burst and I’d let enough tears out for the both of us. “You’re so strong,” I said, not realizing right away that I’d said it aloud.

  Pushing back her chair, she let out a sound that resembled a laugh, like she thought my comment was a ridiculous one. “I’m not.” She poured us both some more coffee before returning the pot to its place to stay warm. “I don’t mean to minimize what we’ve gone through. I just mean that there are so many people with worse situations.

  “I’ve met them,” she continued. “After Emily passed, Matt and I joined a support group—my idea, not his, and he let me know it. There I met a woman whose ten-year-old daughter had gone missing. When I met the woman—Abby—her daughter would’ve been almost Emily’s age. It’d been about eight years since she’d seen Grace, and they still had no idea if she was alive.”

  “That’s…” I wasn’t sure how to finish my sentence because there was no word in the English language that accurately seemed to describe how terribly sad that must’ve been. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “I know,” Melissa said. “Neither did I. We went for coffee one day after the group, and she told me that for months after her daughter disappeared, she and her husband felt guilty doing everyday things, like eating or sleeping, because they wondered if Grace had gotten to eat that day or if she was curled up on a cold concrete floor somewhere. They wondered if she was dead. And if she were, did she suffer at the end?”

  Melissa swallowed hard, somehow still able to hold back tears. I couldn’t remain as composed. Once the first tear fell, others followed, and I wiped them with a napkin, hoping Melissa didn’t think less of me.

  “There I’d been feeling sorry for myself all that time, and I know I had every right to…but I’d never even stopped to consider that there were people in the world who were suffering more than we were. And if Abby could wake up and get out of bed every day, I certainly could too.”

  I could see how that realization might help someone deal with whatever they were currently facing, but I wondered if comparing her own life and problems to someone else’s was a healthy way to heal. There was always someone worse off. Someone who had less and was suffering more. And if people constantly compared their lives to those in a more difficult situation, it would invalidate their grief or anxiety or whatever negative emotion they experienced because of it. And as Melissa said, she had a right to feel how she felt.

  But as quickly as I’d been to consider Melissa’s path a questionable one, I realized I had absolutely no room to judge someone else’s coping mechanisms. I was a hot mess, and I hoped Melissa couldn’t tell.

  “I’d never thought of burying a child as a privilege until I met two people who didn’t have the chance to say goodbye to theirs. And to be honest, that helped me deal with Emily’s death more than any of the sessions with the group helped me.” She looked up at me, and when she did, I watched a tear fall from her eye as well.

  If I had to guess, I was pretty certain it was for Grace and her family, not for herself.

  “I’m not strong,” she said. “I’m just lucky. I know how Emily died. I know she suffered at the end but that it was over once she passed. I know—I hope—she’s in a better place now.” Melissa’s voice cracked as she finished her sentence. “I got to say goodbye to her, to lay her body to rest. Becoming friends with Abby helped me view my situation in a very different light.”

  Melissa’s story of Abby and her daughter Grace seemed to resonate in every cell in my body. My stomach tensed so much it felt like the organ was twisting on itself, and my blood felt like it’d been spiked with adrenaline so potent that my skin vibrated as it tried to hold the rest of me together.

  “And Matt?” I asked, needing to know the effect all of this had had on them both.

  “And Matt…doesn’t say much,” she answered with a quick smile that only touched the corners of her mouth briefly. “He never did. But he said even less after Emily’s death. I said enough for the both of us, though. I screamed and I cursed and I got mad at the world and everyone in it. While I felt better talking about it, or yelling, Matt seemed to retreat further inside himself than he ever had. And when he couldn’t stand being with even himself, he turned to alcohol for comfort. I’m sure Ransom’s told you that, though,” she said like it was a foregone conclusion.

  I shook my head. “He hasn’t.”

  She laughed harshly. “Well, that’s kind of him, but we don’t deserve it.”

  “I’m sure Ransom would say you deserve that and more.”

  “Yeah. Well, he usually does try to see the best in people.” She smiled more broadly this time, and though it still held the ser
iousness of the moment, I thought her face seemed to lose some of the sadness that had been there only seconds ago.

  “Yeah,” I said with a chuckle. I wondered if she were referring to Kari or someone in particular or if the comment had just been a hyperbolic compliment, but I realized I might not ever know. Because even if Melissa had any less than flattering thoughts about Kari, to my knowledge she’d never shared them. At least not to Ransom.

  She’d been a hundred percent supportive of his decision to reconnect with his mother after all these years. She’d even encouraged it. I guessed that had something to do with never getting the opportunity to see her own child again, but I’d probably never know the true reason. And who knew if Melissa even did.

  It wasn’t long before Melissa’s eyes grew teary again. “Emily always saw the best in people too,” she said. “They were similar that way.”

  I searched my mind for an appropriate response that didn’t seem cliché or manufactured to seem like I cared about someone I’d never even met. I’d already said all that I could, and I guessed her silence meant Melissa was done sharing as well. At least for now.

  With a sigh, she pushed back in her chair and rose slowly, her posture never slackening as she headed to the sink. “I’ll cook breakfast for everyone,” she said without turning around. “Why don’t you go get ready and see if you can’t try an’ wake the bear in a little while? Tell him I’ve got some candy bacon in the oven for him, extra crispy. He can sleep on the plane ride home,” she said. “Matt and I wanna make sure we get to spend as much time as possible with him while he’s here.”

  I didn’t know whether her comment was more connected to losing Emily or the fact that Ransom didn’t visit often, but the truth was, it probably didn’t matter.

  Chapter Eighteen

  R A N S O M

  “Mmm,” I groaned as I felt Taylor’s arms slip around me and her body press against my back. She was warm and familiar, and I’d gotten so used to having her sleep beside me that the bed was beginning to feel too empty without her. Even this one at Matt and Melissa’s that barely fit both of us. “Where’d you go?” I asked, my voice deep and groggy as I worked the sleepiness out of it.

  “Just to get some coffee.”

  “Any left for me?”

  I felt her nod against my shoulder before she kissed it. “And Melissa said to tell you she’s making candy bacon. I’m not sure what it is, but it sounds delicious.”

  I let out a low laugh and turned over onto my back so I could see Taylor. She was still in what she’d worn to bed—one of my T-shirts, which was way too big for her, and a pair of sweatpants with the name of her college on the thigh. She looked sexy as hell with no makeup and her hair pulled up into a messy bun. She felt even hotter against me.

  “I don’t know what candy bacon is either or how she makes it, but it’s amazing, and it’ll ruin you for regular bacon.”

  She kissed my neck lightly as she spoke. “I’m torn between wanting to taste it and not wanting to feel different about plain bacon.”

  “That is a tough decision, but you’re only gonna get it in one place, and that’s the Holt household. It was Matt’s mom’s recipe, but only the women are allowed to know it for some reason. It’s kinda sweet in a way, but it’s also incredibly sexist.”

  Taylor laughed. “I think you’re reading too much into it. It’s just bacon.”

  “See if you stand by the phrase ‘It’s just bacon’ once you taste it.”

  She slid her nails lightly over my stomach, and my breath quickened at the touch. “I think I’d rather taste you,” she said. And when her face disappeared under the covers, all coherent thoughts of mine disappeared with it.

  I tried to be quiet, and I tried to last. Unfortunately, I accomplished neither of those things. I was already hard after waking up, and her mouth was so hot, her tongue so wet. I never stood a chance.

  And when I tried to warn her I was close—tried to grab her hair and pull on it a little—that only seemed to encourage her to keep going. After I was done, she kissed her way up my abdomen until her lips were close enough to my ear that she could whisper into it.

  “Told you I wanted to taste you.”

  “I’m glad you keep your promises,” I said, stroking her hair and staring into her eyes. Her words and her weight on me had me ready for round two. “Now it’s your turn.” I held her lower back as I flipped her over. The cotton sheets were soft against my skin, and I slid my hand underneath her shirt so I could feel the smoothness of her skin as well.

  “It’s okay,” she said. “We should probably head down, or Melissa will wonder what we’re doing up here.”

  “I think she’ll have a pretty good idea what we’re doing up here.”

  Taylor’s hand connected with my bare ass. I liked it more than she’d probably meant for me to. “Well, if you’re hoping that’ll get me to not wanna stay up here with you, you should probably think of another form of punishment.”

  Her eyes grew more serious, and it made me wonder if I’d touched a nerve I didn’t know existed. But before I could ask what was wrong, let alone apologize for it, she said, “Melissa said she wants to spend as much time with you as possible before we leave.”

  She pressed her lips together into a tight smile, like she was thinking about something and didn’t know whether she should vocalize it. But I knew if something were on her mind that she wanted to share, she would.

  “I guess this means I should get off you, then,” I joked.

  “It does,” she answered, her demeanor a bit lighter. “Why don’t you go have breakfast with Matt and Melissa while I take a shower, and I’ll meet you downstairs in a little while?”

  I knew she’d probably suggested that so I could spend time with them on my own, and I appreciated it, even though I didn’t tell her. I’d spent most of the day yesterday with my biological family, but Matt and Melissa were family too, and being here with them—seeing them again in this house—filled me with regret for distancing myself from them, even if it hadn’t been an intentional separation.

  “’Kay,” I said. “I’ll see you downstairs when you’re done.” Slowly, I climbed off her and put on sweatpants and a T-shirt before heading to the bathroom. After splashing some water on my face and brushing my teeth, I jogged downstairs. The scent of candy bacon and coffee drifted up the stairs and woke me up instantly.

  “Morning,” I called before my feet even touched the landing.

  I hadn’t realized Matt was up, but when I’d turned the corner toward the kitchen, he was cracking eggs for French toast. “Morning,” he said. “Y’all sleep okay last night?”

  “Yeah. Great. I’m thinking the accommodations here are better than what we would’ve encountered in the hotel. It didn’t come with a complimentary breakfast like Hotel Holt.”

  Melissa smiled at me as she handed me a mug so I could get some coffee. “Thanks.” I poured some coffee and then turned to Matt. “You’re up early.”

  “I’m old.”

  He said it so dryly I couldn’t help but laugh, even though he didn’t. “You were old when I lived here too, but we usually had to drag your ass outta bed.”

  “All right, smartass, make yourself useful. Grab a spatula or some plates or something.” He dipped the thick slices of bread into the batter and then placed them on the griddle. They sizzled immediately.

  “I guess getting cranky is part of getting old too?” I joked, earning me a playful elbow to the stomach as I stood beside him.

  I coughed dramatically.

  “I see some things haven’t changed,” Melissa said.

  Growing up, Matt had been an athlete too, and from time to time we’d spar in the living room until eventually one of us got injured by something other than each other. One time Matt backed into the coffee table, knocking over a glass and cutting himself when it broke.

  Matt chuckled. “I’m tryin’ to go easy on him.”

  “Right,” I said with an eye roll.

&n
bsp; Matt flipped the French toast over, revealing a perfectly golden-brown crisp of cinnamon and egg. “So what are your plans today?”

  Taylor and I hadn’t even talked about what we were doing, if anything. “I don’t know. We don’t really have any. I guess just relax before we need to fly back tomorrow.”

  “You think she’d be interested in seeing the town?”

  I raised an eyebrow at him. “What part? There isn’t really a whole lot to show off.”

  “Sure there is,” Melissa said. “We thought it’d be fun to take Taylor on a little tour of the neighborhood and then maybe grab a bite to eat at Sully’s.”

  The tour of the town would probably take about ten minutes since it had about six traffic lights, two parks, and only a handful of restaurants—including Sully’s.

  “Okay, yeah. If she’s good with that, that’s fine. Though I plan to eat until I feel sick this morning, so I’m not sure how hungry I’ll be.”

  “Save room,” Matt said. “You can’t go to Sully’s and pass up their brisket. Marilyn’ll think you’re sick or something.”

  Marilyn Sullivan was the wife of the owner, who’d been known only as Sully for as long as anyone in the town had known him. I wasn’t even sure Marilyn knew his first name.

  Taylor came down a few minutes later, just as we were finishing up preparing for breakfast. Matt stacked the French toast on a plate in the middle of the table, alongside syrup, butter, and powdered sugar. And Melissa pulled the pan out of the oven when we were ready to sit, so the bacon was still hot when we grabbed some.

  “Oh my God,” Taylor said with a moan that could’ve made my pants feel a little tighter if we weren’t eating breakfast with my family. “This is…” She never found the word she was looking for so instead finished with “Ransom was right. This ruined me for plain bacon. What do you put on this?”

  Melissa smiled, pleased with Taylor’s reaction to her cooking. “All bad things, which is why it tastes so good. Some brown sugar, some butter, fresh maple syrup. A few other secret ingredients that only Holt women can know.”