Big Man’s Claim

by Wylder, Penny

  “Mel, what is it?” He follows me to the bottom of the stairs. “What happened?” he asks, about to follow me up.

  “I'm fine, Ryder. I don't want to talk about it,” I say, not looking back at him.

  “Mel, talk to me.” He takes a step up, causing me to whip around.

  Tears are streaming down my face as I hold out my arms. “What don't you understand? I don't want to talk about it.”

  Jenna comes up behind him and rests her hand on his shoulder. “Let her go, babe.” Grabbing his wrist, she looks up at me and gives me a gentle smile as she pulls him back to the kitchen.

  I can hear the muffled chatter between them. I don't know what they're saying, and I don't really care. Right now, Ryder's feelings or worries aren't my concern.

  Entering my room, Buttercup is asleep on my bed. When I shut my door with a bang, his head pops up and he wags his tail. The second the door closes, that's it.

  The floodgates open, and I'm sobbing uncontrollably. Buttercup perks his head higher, feeling my energy and knowing something is wrong. Throwing myself on the bed, he cuddles up next to me and rests his face on my shoulder.

  I've never felt like this before. Not once over the years have I shed these kinds of tears for any man.

  Because he's not just any man. He's the man who stole my heart.

  The realization sets in that this isn't just because he won't give me an answer. These tears aren't because he's just a guy who broke up with me.

  These are the tears of losing someone I love.

  I love him.

  Branson swept me off my feet. He's everything I've ever wanted in someone else. He's creative and handsome. He loves the outdoors and isn't afraid of a challenge.

  And now he's gone. I lost him and I don't even know why.

  Turning on my side, I snuggle up with my dog and just cry. I cry until sleep makes my eyes heavy and I can't keep them open anymore.

  12

  Melody

  “You all right?” my boss asks.

  Nodding, I give him a forced smile. “Yeah, I'm fine.”

  “You sure? All week you've been moping around. Where's the smile our guests know and love?”

  Tapping a pen against the counter, I try to make my smile more genuine. “How's this? Better?”

  “Mel, I've known you for a long time, and I know when things aren't right. If something is going on and you need to take time off, you can. You know that, right?” Bill softens his eyes, reaching over and grabbing my hand. “It's okay.”

  “No, I'm good. Really, I'll be fine. It's no big deal, but thank you.” Standing up from the desk, I grab the broom from the closet and start sweeping the floor. “Besides, being at work is far more helpful. It gives my mind something else to do.”

  “Okay,” he says warily. “I'm here if you want to talk, too. I know it's hard without your dad around, so if you need someone, I'm here for you.”

  “Thanks, Bill, I appreciate it.”

  He gives me another smile, then heads to his office. He's right. I haven't been myself lately. Some of the guests have asked if me I'm okay. My coworkers have been tiptoeing around me, not sure what to make of my mood. They’ve mostly been avoiding me, and I appreciate that. I’m not in the mood for a chat and some gossip between shifts.

  But I'm not going to spew my problems out to everyone. This is my problem, and there's nothing anyone can say or do that will make this pain go away. I've hurt like this before, I know it will fade eventually.

  These things just take time.

  Clocking out, I throw my purse over my shoulder and decide to hit the store on my way home. I grab a small carriage, I walk it slowly through the aisle. Pulling things off the shelves aimlessly, I finally look down at my cart.

  Cookies, chips, nacho cheese dip, honey roasted peanuts, another package of cookies.

  I'm eating my feelings. I only need milk, paper towels, and shampoo, but my carriage is quickly filling with things I can stuff my face with as I try to stuff the pain down deep.

  This is ridiculous.

  I pick through the carriage and start putting some of the stuff back. I don't need all this junk food to just make me feel worse.

  From the corner of my eye, I see a familiar shadow as it moves down the aisle. Flicking my head up, whoever it was, is gone. Feeling satisfied with the stuff in my cart, I round the corner and come to a stop.

  Bran is at the end of the aisle, his eyes down on the item in his hand. Holding my breath, the world begins to spin. My instincts kick in and I do the only thing that seems right in the moment. I abandon my cart and run for the door.

  I always knew there would be a point where we would run into each other. This town is too small to avoid each other forever. At some point we were bound to wind up in the same place. I'm just not ready for that day to be today. Dashing to my truck, I'm in and I have it running before I even inhale a breath.

  I drive home on autopilot, and when I pull into our driveway, I barely recall navigating home at all. I open the door, and step inside. I'm ready to just go upstairs, take a nice long bath, and then right to bed. As I step from the small entryway into the kitchen, Ryder is standing at the table.

  “You're just in time,” he says, holding two plates of food in his hands. “Come have some dinner.”

  “I'm good. I'm not really that hungry.”

  The abandoned cart at the store says otherwise, but after seeing Branson, I can't eat anything. My nerves are still jangled and my stomach is knotted up tight like a tight rope.

  “Sit,” he says sternly. “It's not an invitation. We need to talk.”

  “Where's Jenna?” I ask, looking around, expecting some sort of intervention style attack.

  “She went out to shop for the baby. She'll be gone for a while, I'm sure.” He taps the back of one of the chairs and gestures with his head. “Come on. It can be like old times.”

  “Like when you would try to talk to me like Dad?”

  “No, like when I talk to you like your older brother.” He tilts his head and arches a brow. “Sit, Mel. I want to talk, but I also haven't seen you eat anything at all lately.”

  “Because I'm at the hotel sixty hours a week, Ryder.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Fine,” I say, dragging my feet across the floor and dropping into the chair. Picking up the fork, I poke at the food on my plate. “What is this?”

  “Pig slop, just like Mom used to make.”

  “I don't remember it ever looking like this.” Giggling, I scoop up a forkful and let it plop back down like a glob of pudding.

  “Just try it before you criticize it.” He takes a giant bite, chewing it slowly.

  Filling my fork, I take a bite. It's not good, but I do my best to grit it down because I don't want to fight with him or hurt his feelings.

  His mouth moves in long, slow chews, until he finally says with his mouth still full, “I can't.” Grabbing a napkin, he spits the mouthful out. “This is terrible.”

  “I wasn't going to say anything, but since you did, I agree. It's awful, Ryder.”

  We both start laughing as he pulls out his phone and opens the screen. “Pizza it is then.” Ordering us dinner, he sets his phone down and folds his hands on the table. “Since we have a little bit before our real dinner gets here, maybe you want to tell me what's going on with you lately?”

  “What do you mean? I'm fine,” I lie.

  “You're not fine, Melody. You've been walking around here like a zombie. I know you; something is wrong. So, tell me what it is.”

  “Ryder, please. I don't want to do this with you. Can you just leave it alone?”

  Shaking his head, he sits up and leans back. “No, I can't. Maybe I can help, maybe I can give you some advice. But I can't do anything if I don't know what it is. Is it work? Did something happen there?”

  “No, it's not work, Ryder.” Pressing my fingertips to my forehead, I massage my temples. “You wouldn't understand, okay? I just need to ge
t through it on my own.”

  “How do you know I won't understand?”

  “Ryder,” I groan, laying my face on the table. “You just won't.”

  “Try me,” he says, folding his arms over his chest.

  What does it matter anyway? It's not like he can do anything.

  “Fine,” I snap, popping up in my chair. Laying open hands on the table, I stare him in the eyes. “You really want to know what's wrong?”

  “Yes, I really want to know.”

  “I did exactly what you told me not to do, and I got involved with Branson.” He arches a high brow, but I keep going, not giving him a chance to speak. “But it doesn't matter anymore anyway because he dumped me. He isn't who I thought he was. You were right. Is that what you want to hear? You were right, Ryder,” I say, lifting my hands up in the air in surrender. “I was wrong, and I didn't listen to you. Now I'm really sad and hurting because I thought we felt something for each other. Obviously I was the only who felt anything at all.”

  Ryder sits quietly for a moment, his eyes jumping around mine. “When was this?” he asks.

  “About three weeks ago. Everything was good, then I stopped hearing from him. For over a week he ignored me. So, I went to confront him and see what was going on. He told me to leave, that it was over. That was last week. Remember when I came home and you thought something was wrong?” He nods, dropping his eyes to his hands. “That's when he broke it off.”

  “So a few weeks back he just stopped talking to you?” His eyes are moving between his hands, his voice almost sheepish.

  “Yeah.”

  “Oh.” He says it as if he knows something I don't.

  “What, Ryder? What is it?”

  “I'm not sure if this has anything to do with it, but I ran into Branson at the bar about the same time. . .” His voice fades out as his eyes slowly lift to mine.

  “What did you do?”

  “I might have told him to back off and leave you alone.”

  “You what?” I say loudly, my jaw dropping open. “Why? Why would you do that?”

  “Mel, it's just that with his age and his history, I thought he was bad news. I mean, he's ten years older than you—”

  “So? Who the hell cares, Ryder? Dad was almost ten years older than Mom and they were happy together.”

  “Well those were different times, and honestly, I forgot about that.”

  “You forgot about that? Different times? How convenient that rules should be different for me. You had no right to meddle in my life, Ryder!” Jumping up from my seat, I press my palms into the table and lean closer to him. “You can't keep doing this. I'm not a little kid anymore, I don't need you to protect me!”

  “I'm sorry, Mel. You're right. I need to back off. Maybe I'm not what set this off, but if I am, I'm really, really sorry.”

  Dropping back down into the chair, I rest my head in my hand. “It's doesn't matter now, it's over anyway.”

  I'm so hurt over the breakup, I'm not even really mad at Ryder. I should be super pissed at what he did, but I know deep down he thought what he was doing was right. And who knows what role Ryder played in all this. Branson wouldn't give me an answer, so his reasons are still a mystery.

  The room is quiet. I can hear the blood pumping between my ears as I stare at the table. There isn't anything else to say. Ryder knows now, he got what he wanted all along.

  “Were you happy?”

  “What?” I ask, letting my eyes drift up to his.

  “Were you happy with him?”

  “It doesn't matter. You got what you wanted didn't you? He's staying away from me.”

  “That's not an answer. I asked you if you were happy?”

  “Yeah, I was.” Fiddling with a thread on the tablecloth, I shrug a shoulder. “But what does it matter now?”

  “You said I wouldn't understand, but I do. I felt the same way about Jenna. I know the pain.”

  He's right. I remember my brother the day after Jenna just vanished to the city. He walked around in a daze for months. And then that hurt turned to anger, and he wasn't the same.

  “Yeah, I guess you do know what I'm feeling.”

  “Look,” he says, reaching across the table and squeezing my hand, “if you really like this guy, and he makes you happy, I support you. All the rumors floating around out there might not even be true. Who am I to judge?”

  “Are you serious?”

  “I am.” He smiles. “Do what makes you happy, Mel.” The doorbell rings, and his eyes light up. “But first, you and I need to demolish this pizza.”

  Smiling at him, I feel emboldened. I should do what makes me happy, and if Branson makes me happy, why should I just give up?

  It's easy to walk away and not try, but you never get what you want in life by waiting for it. I need to tell him how I truly feel. I need to tell him exactly what he does to me. How he makes my heart explode and my body go up in flames.

  Bran needs to know that good things in life don't always come easy, but I'm willing to take a chance if he is.

  Maybe my brother did scare him away. Or maybe he got scared himself, deciding it was easier to let me go than to face what he's feeling too.

  All I know is that I'm not ready to give up on us.

  I want the truth, but I want him more.

  13

  Branson

  The fire flickers in the darkness, lighting up the very edge of the tree line. Hot sparks float up like tiny sky lanterns, disappearing as they slip into the blackness above. It's chilly out, but the fire creates enough warmth to heat my face.

  Or maybe that's the whiskey as it flows through my veins. Holding the bottle up, I swirl the liquor in the glass, watching the amber change colors from the red and orange of the flames.

  Taking a long swig, I hiss under my breath. My body buzzes from the alcohol, but it's doing nothing to stop me from thinking about Melody. She's been burned into my fucking heart like a brand that can’t be erased.

  Squeezing the bottle tightly between my fingers, I press it to my lips, and swallow as much as my throat can handle at one time.

  Fuck, why won't this banish her from my fucking mind?

  I set the bottle on my thigh, tap the rim as I stare into the long tendrils of the fire. I want her gone. I want to forget her completely. I want to go back in time and never have taken a hike that day.

  Things would be so much easier if I never crossed paths with her in the first place. I wouldn't hurt like this. My heart would be whole, and my gut wouldn't feel so damn empty.

  Shaking my head, I look down at the whiskey. It's almost gone, an entire bottle down to a few more sips. Holding the bottle by the neck, I rock it back and forth.

  I pinch the bridge of my nose, close my eyes, and hang my head. Everything in my life was already a fucking mess and now it's even worse. She turned my entire world on its head, and for what? For this pain?

  I should have never gotten involved with her.

  I hear twigs breaking under someone’s feet, and I open my eyes and look up. A hazy figure emerges from the darkness. Closing my eyes again, I blink them a few times, only to see her.

  Melody?

  It can't be. I must be very drunk.

  “Branson James, I want answers.”

  I'm not imagining this, she's really here. Leaning forward, I hold the bottle between my legs and just peer up at her. I can't get my thoughts together. I'm a mix of shock and happiness that she's even here after how I treated her earlier.

  Pointing a finger directly at me, her mouth folds into a heavy frown. “And I'm not leaving until you tell me the truth.” Her eyes turn razor sharp as her tone hardens. “I deserve to know why. Tell me why you're doing this?”

  Raking an open hand over my head, I sigh loudly. “Mel—”

  “Don't Mel me. I'm not looking for some dumb-ass excuse of it's not you, it's me, and all that bullshit.” Her hand moves through the air, cutting and slicing it apart. “Tell me the truth, the real reason you want
to end this.”

  “There's nothing to say.” Downing the last little bit of whiskey, I toss the bottle into the fire and lean back.

  Her eyes narrow as her mouth twists up angrily. “I know about the bar. I know my brother told you to stay away from me.” My eyes jump up to hers as she keeps talking. “If you're walking away because of him, then maybe this isn't worth it. Because I don't give two shits about what he thinks or what he said. It doesn't matter. My parents were just about the same difference as us, so age isn't the issue. Is that why? Did he scare you off?”

  Hanging my head, I lay my hands over the back of my skull and cover my face.

  How do I explain this?

  “Well? Say something!” she yells.

  Grunting loudly, I snap my head up and stare at her.

  There's so much anger in her eyes, but despite how much she hates me right now, she looks so beautiful in the light of the fire. Her skin is glowing as the flames move across her skin like waves.

  Her chest is rising and falling rapidly as her fingers wiggle back and forth by her side and her jaw crooks. A cool breeze blows, causing sexy little goosebumps to erupt down her arms and her nipples to peak under her shirt.

  My chest tightens as every muscle in my body crackles with electricity. But I still stay silent. I'm mute, unable to get out any of the thoughts running through my head.

  “Nothing to say? Nothing at all?” Crossing her arms protectively, she tilts her head. “Fine, then sit there like a damn stump and just listen. If it was my brother, then you're too weak to handle me anyway. But if it's something else, if it has to do with me wanting a family in the future, then I'm gone for good. I will walk away, and you'll never see me again because that is something I absolutely will not give up.”

  I need her.

  Launching out of my chair, I scoop her face in my hands and kiss her. Instead of telling her how I feel and what I want, I show her.

  There are no words to express how much I want this woman. I can feel her in everything. She's in every breath. She's in every heartbeat. And I can't stop it.