The man looks just as wrought with distress when he notices the crowd. His grip on the rail tightens, his body going rigid. When he turns back towards me, his umber eyes gleam with animosity. “Why couldn’t you leave me alone? I’d be dead by now,” he bites out through clenched teeth.
“But you’re not,” I note, sparing a glance down below and shuddering at the cavernous bay. “That’s good, right? If you wanted to be dead, you would be.”
“You’re distracting me. I can’t concentrate with you here, rambling about goddamn hamsters.”
Deciding I need a new approach, I coil my fingers around the guardrail and take an unsteady step up onto the elevated cement block. The railing is level with my stomach as I cling tight, careful not to bend over too far. “You know, you probably wouldn’t die from the fall,” I tell him.
Maybe I’m just trying to convince myself in case there’s another roof incident, but the math seems to check out. I’m no expert on diving off of bridges, but a fifty foot drop into deep, non-turbulent water sounds like it would fucking suck, while still being survivable.
The man beside me shivers from only a foot away, his Adam’s apple bobbing with conflict. “I can’t swim.”
Well, fuck.
My mind spins, trying to locate a plan C—except, I didn’t even have a decent plan A or B when I got myself into this mess. The only question that springs to my lips is, “What’s your name?”
There’s always a chance I can build a rapport with this guy, and maybe he’ll like me enough to stick around.
Then I recognize my faulty reasoning…
I’m really not all that likable.
A few beats of thickening silence lingers between us, the growing background noise muted by the intensity of this moment. The man finally licks his lips as his troubled eyes lift to me, and he replies in a ragged voice, “Milo.”
“Milo.” I repeat his name through a nod, hoping I look more confident than I feel right now. “Good name. I bet someone out there would really miss saying that name.”
Well, shit, that wasn’t awful. I mentally high-five myself.
Milo grumbles, his gaze dancing out across the murky waters. Streetlight and moonglow illuminate his haggard frame, chalky complexion, and the dark circles beneath his eyes that almost match the shade of his irises. In a swift breath, he confesses, “I killed someone.”
My insides pitch, and I freeze.
Awesome.
I’m trying to uplift a goddamn murderer.
“It wasn’t…” Milo’s head swings back and forth, his inner turmoil palpitating off of him in waves. He fists the rail with gritted teeth. “It wasn’t on purpose. I didn’t mean to.”
My throat closes up, lost for words, and I simply nod my head as I process his admission.
Milo continues, his legs quaking beneath him. “I thought I could live with it, but I can’t. I can’t do it anymore.”
I swallow. “What happened?”
“It was stupid. It was so… fuckin’ stupid.” His clammy palms squeeze the metal bar, while his chest puffs out with a tattered breath. “I lost my job last spring, and it was hell—I’ve got a kid, you know? So, my brother, he’s always getting himself into trouble, always coming up with these schemes. He said he’d help me get some cash, just a temporary thing, until I got back on my feet. I didn’t know he wanted to rob people.” Milo stops to regroup, closing his eyes tight. “But he convinced me it would be fine, easy, because he just has that way about him. Nothing is ever serious—it’s all fun and fuckin’ games.
“Until you ram your truck into some poor, innocent guy, and find out the next day that you killed him. I killed him.”
My eyebrows pinch together as I stare at Milo, an icy chill sweeping through me that even the hot August night can’t touch. Fuck.
Ominous water ripples below us, and I acknowledge the real gravity of this situation. Choices need to be made. Milo needs to decide if he’s going to hurl himself off this bridge, and I need to decide if I’m going to stop him.
This guy killed someone—accident or not, he killed a man as a consequence of doing bad, illegal shit. Maybe he deserves to meet a grisly end. Maybe the world would be a better place.
But… maybe that’s not the point.
Letting out a frazzled sigh, I tap my thumbs along the rail, trying to figure out what I’m supposed to do with this knowledge, with this impasse.
What would Melody do?
Her porcelain face and emerald eyes seize me for a wistful moment—her goodness, her heart, her empathy. She sees life through a lens made of hope and decency. She smiles through adversity. She shines in the dark. She chooses compassion over… everything.
Melody talks people off of bridges.
I don’t give myself any time to think before hoisting one leg up over the banister, my grip on the bar white-knuckled. My whole body tremors with fear, and I refuse to look down at the bleak chasm below as gasps and flashing lights from the group of spectators assault me. Police sirens sound in the distance, adding to my harrowing anxiety.
“What the fuck, man? What are you doing?”
My opposite leg follows suit, and I’m clutching the guardrail for dear life, the heels of my boots teetering off the edge of the cement ledge.
Holy fucking shit.
“Well,” I mutter, my voice hitching. I’m facing the opposite direction, chin tucked to my chest as I try to collect my bearings. “You seem pretty upset over killing a guy, so I figured you wouldn’t want another death on your hands.”
I blow out a hard breath, finding the courage to glance up at Milo. His stunned expression stares back at me, slack-jawed and bewildered.
He gapes at me. “Are you insane?”
Am I?
I’m about to shrug my shoulders, but my balance staggers at the gesture, so I just force out a strained, “Maybe.”
Since I’m facing the roadway, my eyes travel over to the large crowd of rubberneckers, likely live Tweeting and making TikTok videos as we speak.
Police officers roll in, catching Milo’s attention, and he hollers over his shoulder, “Stay the fuck back, or I’ll jump!”
My insides churn with dread. “Please don’t do that,” I say in a low voice, finding the strength to pivot myself on the overhang until I’m facing the same direction as Milo, my torso dangling forward over the bay. “If you jump, then I’ll have to jump in after you.”
“Bullshit,” he spits back. “Just leave me the hell alone. Get out of here.”
“I can’t do that. I mean, I’m already in this.” I suck in a wavering breath. “And then, what if you survive, but I drown? You’ll have to live with the responsibility of taking two lives. That would really suck.”
“Dude, you’re stressing me out. Just go.”
“What do you love?”
Milo falters, sparing me the briefest look. His chin trembles, the fear evident despite his determination to drown himself. “My son,” he croaks out. “And my brother.”
“Aren’t they enough to live for?”
“My brother’s in jail. I was driving his truck when I hit that guy—someone got the plates, and Alfie was arrested. He refused to give me up, so now he’s rotting in a jail cell all alone, even though I’m the one who killed a person.”
I bite my lip with consideration. “You could always turn yourself in.”
“I’m too chickenshit. I’d rather just end it all.”
“What about your son?” I continue, keeping the conversation going.
Keeping him distracted.
“He loses either way, but this way is better.”
“How so?”
Milo lets out a growl of protest, shaking his head. “I see what you’re doing, trying to get me to talk—to think. I’ve already made up my mind, and you can’t change that.”
Braving a glance to the depths below, I sway as a swell of queasiness claims me. I push through the fear and pull my head up to watch the stars instead. “My dad died when I was
just a little kid, and it really fucked up my whole life. He didn’t off himself like you, though, which I can only imagine will add an extra layer of trauma and heartbreak for your son.” Milo remains silent, bristling at my spiel. My fingers tense, curling stiffer around the clammy metal as I continue to spout off a bunch of random shit, hoping something manages to stick. “You know, I actually wanted to die not too long ago. I wasn’t actively suicidal, but I would’ve been really damn okay if I just stopped waking up in the morning. It’s a shitty, black hole type of feeling, and I’m not sure there’s anything anyone can say to help you see through to the other side.
“I could stand here all night giving you reasons and sob stories, glimpses of hope. But only you can decide that your life is worth living. Only you can see the other side.”
He’s quiet for a long time, maybe an entire minute, and we both keep our gazes fixed straight ahead, lost in the sea of stars. Milo cranes his neck my way, his eyes reflecting a new set of emotions, something I haven’t seen yet as I turn to face him.
There’s a crack in his conviction.
“What’s on the other side?” Milo asks in a low, weary tone, his voice hardly audible over the commotion behind us and the heavy draft that coasts through.
Melody steals my thoughts once again, her previous words to me lighting me up like a moonbeam. I reply with surety, “What you put there.”
A palpability hovers between us, a striking sense of clarity, and I think this is it, I finally got through to this guy, and I can crawl off this fucking bridge and go home to wallow in my own personal misery—but then I hear it.
Her voice.
It’s Melody.
“Parker!”
My body swivels along the ledge, turning to face her, to see her, to drink her in beneath the glimmering night sky. Our eyes lock from a few yards away, and she’s hysterical, trying to run to me, but she’s being held back by a beefy cop.
“Melody.”
Her name is only a whisper on my tongue, a tender breath, and I know she can’t hear me, but I say it anyway. It calms me.
I’m calm.
Milo follows my stare. “That your girl?”
“I really fucking hope so.”
“Hell, man, you—”
The moment he spins back to face me, everything goes to shit.
The air leaves my lungs when Milo slips, losing his footing. He scrambles to keep his grip on the rail as my one arm instinctively reaches out for him, but I miss, and he fumbles, and then he’s freefalling face-first into Delavan Bay as my heart sinks to the bottom of the water before he even hits the surface.
Motherfuck.
Everything happens in slow motion, or maybe it’s a split second, I’m not really fucking sure, but all I know is that I’m left with another choice.
Melody shrieks, clawing her way through the wall of cops, who let her go in order to race down the bridge towards the other side of the bank.
“No! Parker, don’t you dare!”
She’s running to me, sobbing and desperate, and all I want to do is climb back over the railing, scoop her into my arms, and kiss away her trails of tears.
But I don’t.
All I do is smile.
Then I let go of the guardrail and jump in after him, while Melody’s horrified cry follows me all the way down to the dark, icy water.
Redemption is a bitch.
—THIRTY-EIGHT—
I’m on that downtown street all over again, my lungs perforating, my limbs staggering, my heart skyrocketing with unbridled terror.
“No! Parker, don’t you dare!”
It’s more than a request, more than a plea. It’s the ultimate demand.
My truest wish.
He holds my stare for a second, only a second, as I lessen our gap and sprint towards the guardrail, where the man I love is dangling fifty feet above the water. I see the battle on his face. The struggle. It’s only a flash before his eyes spark green and gallant, and then…
He smiles.
I had waited months to see that smile. There was a time when I would have done anything to watch it bloom across his handsome face, planting new, healthy roots inside of him.
But right now, it slices me straight to the marrow, a grisly blade between my ribs.
They say a look says a thousand words, but I only see one.
Goodbye.
An ugly cry expels the moment Parker lets go, plummeting into the bay, only a blink before I reach him. “No! No!”
Devastating hysteria possesses me, something wretched, and my body moves on impulse, legs violently shaking as I start climbing over the railing with zero regard for anything but jumping in after him. Autopilot, tunnel vision, chaotic instinct—it infiltrates my blood, infecting me with a desperate sort of mania.
Before I can leap, two solid arms wrap around my midsection, pulling me back, up and over, like I’m nothing more than a feather. Weightless.
Cobwebs.
My heart thunders in protest, legs flailing as I try to escape the stranger’s grip, but he continues to drag me away from the rail. “No! Let go of me!”
“Whoa, whoa, calm down. I’m an officer. There’s an embankment around this way—follow me.”
I don’t even spare him a glance.
I just start running.
My ballet flats pound the pavement with a furious gait, bruising my soles, and my lungs contract with burning, painful breaths. My throat stings, my muscles ache, and my heartbeats eradicate me from the inside out as I blindly rush down the verge towards the water’s edge.
Groups of people hover, while medical personnel try to hold them back, and before I can even think about diving headfirst into the water, someone calls out, “We got ‘em!”
Oh, my God.
I case the bay with wild eyes, spotting two figures in the water a few yards down, just as EMTs meet them, assisting them back to land.
With a strangled cry, I race forward, pushing through bodies and arms and whispered chatter. “Parker!”
He’s wading through the water, sluggish and unsteady, dragging the other man with him.
He’s moving, he’s walking, he’s breathing.
He’s alive!
A paramedic takes the man from his arms, carrying him to the grass, as a second one pulls Parker up over the edge, until he collapses, coughing and sputtering.
“Parker!” I shout, my knees aching with every swift, furious step. Rocks and pebbles dig into my feet through the thin soles, but I don’t stop running until I reach him. “Parker, God… oh, my God…”
He lifts up for a moment, then falls backwards, spitting out mouthfuls of water. “Melody…” he chokes out.
My body launches itself against his, uncaring of anything but feeling his beating heart pressed into my chest. Sobs leak out of me when his arms snake around my back, clutching me tight. “I thought I lost you. I thought you were gone,” I weep into the collar of his drenched t-shirt.
Parker wheezes, buckling onto his back as EMTs sweep in to check his vitals. He weaves his hand through my hair, trying to hold me as close as he can while rejecting the medical attention. “I’m fine,” he grits out, still coughing. Still gasping. “I’ll be fine.”
He’s soaked and shivering, the bay water seeping through my thin dress as I cling desperately. Tears continue to spill from my eyes, adding to the moisture, and I pepper him in frenzied kisses. Parker’s chest expands and deflates with every deep, arduous breath, and my lips trail from his neck to his jaw, until they meet with his.
I kiss him.
I kiss him hard, my tongue tearing through his lips, hungry to taste his warmth for myself. It’s evidence, it’s fact, it’s proof—he’s alive.
Parker pulls back to catch his breath, another waterlogged cough rattling his lungs. “Fuck, that sucked,” he says hoarsely.
His ribs hiss, his chest whistling. My terror mounts higher, drenching me in worry as a paramedic tries to shoo me away, ambushing Parker with blood pressure
cuffs and oxygen. The other man lies motionless a few feet away, surrounded by medics, while stretchers are rushed through. It’s a harrowing scene, causing a surge of nausea to roll through me.
Parker coughs and chokes, spitting more water into the grass, and I go pallid.
Is he okay?
Is he drowning before my eyes?
My vision twinkles with stars, tiny particles of light, and I feel myself teetering, a dizzy spell galloping through my brain and making my temples pulse and throb. “P-Parker… don’t leave me…”
The air crackles with daunting energy, something forbidding, and I feel Parker’s fingertips dig into my waist as he lifts up on his haunches, his face blurring before me as the background noise turns to static.
“Melody?”
Alarm infuses his tone, his grip on me tightening. With fluttering eyelids, I begin to float away, tipping over from my knees as everything becomes jumbled chaos.
“Jesus… someone fucking help her!”
His panicked words fade out, turning to ringing in my ears, and Parker catches me before I hit the ground, but he can’t save me from the darkness that swallows me whole…
These lights are familiar.
Sterile and unaesthetic.
Blinking through a sharp inhale, I reach for my wrist, thinking I’m back in that hospital bed after my suicide attempt—tangled in starched sheets, my vein and my heart bleeding out. I expect to see my parents’ tearful faces hovering over me, wracked with disappointment.
Panic seizes me.
No… I’m not ready.
As reality works its way back through me, my fuzzy brain begins to temper, and when my eyes land on my arm, there is only a fading scar staring back at me.
I glance at my opposite arm and wince. A long needle and white tape are secured to the underside of my elbow.
And then… memories assault me, a rush of noise and colors and lights.
Parker!
I sit upright, my heartbeats ricocheting off my ribs as I fumble for the call button to summon a nurse. The last thing I remember is Parker gasping for breath in my arms as paramedics swarmed us, and then I was captured by queasiness and dizzy lights.
The Wrong Heart Page 33
