Fall with Me (Sixth Street Bands Book 2)

by Jayne Frost

  Mel shrugged as Lily hauled her away. Arm in arm, they teetered toward the main floor. My smile evaporated when the crowd pushed in around them.

  “What’s up your ass, Wikipedia?” Logan took a long draw from his beer, eyeing the dance floor. “I wouldn’t be wearing a frown if I was taking Melody home tonight.”

  A flash of heat shot through me. Jealousy? I’d never felt it. But at the moment, ripping Logan’s arm off and beating him with it seemed like an option.

  “You’re not taking her anywhere.” My response was somewhere between a growl and a roar. “And quit looking at her like you want to make her a meal, dude. I’m fucking serious.”

  Pausing with the bottle halfway to his lips, Logan’s brows drew together. “Chill, man. You’re starting to sound like this one over here.” He hitched a thumb over his shoulder at Cameron. “There’s plenty of fine ass to go around. Y’all don’t have to worry about me cutting in on your action.”

  Cameron and I exchanged a look of indignation. I’m guessing he didn’t like having his girlfriend referred to as “fine ass” any more than I did.

  Girlfriend…

  The word sounded foreign. Other people had girlfriends. People who didn’t know any better. Ready to mount a protest, I spotted Mel gyrating on the dance floor. She crooked a finger at me, her brilliant smile flashing under the pulsing lights. Suddenly, I didn’t care about the title, as long as the word “my” was in front of it.

  Waving off Seth’s attempt to keep me in my spot, I edged into the crowd in search of my girl.

  “There she is.” I took Mel’s hand and spun her around. “How’s it going, beautiful?”

  God, she was beautiful. And flushed.

  Her forehead wrinkled. “I’m a little thirsty. It’s hot in here, right?”

  It was hot, but not overly so. And thirst was one of the warning signs of diabetes. Did that apply to all diabetics or just those who weren’t diagnosed?

  Taming the wild thoughts ricocheting around my head, I cupped Mel’s cheek. She was soaked, the back of her neck slick with sweat.

  “You don’t look good. I think its time to go.”

  “No, Christian. I’m having a good time. I feel…”

  My chest tightened as I watched her fumble to find the word. “You’re not well. We’re going.”

  Overhearing my comment, Lily spun around, cocking her head at Mel. “Are you all right, sweetie?”

  “I’m…I’m fine,“ Mel stammered. “I’m fine.”

  The last time she told me she was fine her blood sugar was fifty-three.

  Picturing every catastrophic scenario, I shifted my gaze to Lily and said, “We’re leaving. Mel’s sick.”

  The minute I said it, I realized my mistake. Words like “sick” didn’t exist in Mel’s vernacular when it came to her diabetes.

  She glared at me.

  “I mean, she’s not feeling well,” I amended. “Too much tequila.”

  Lily nodded, wordlessly falling into place behind Mel as I pushed our way through the crowd.

  When we exited the dance floor, Mel pumped the brakes. “Christian,” she bit out. “I said I was fine.”

  Lily looked between us. “Honey, if you’re sick—”

  “I’m not sick!” Mel roared. Pressing her lips together when she noticed Lily’s alarmed expression, she mumbled, “I’m sorry. I’m just...I’m not sick.”

  “She’s fine,” I interjected “She’s a—”

  I stopped myself a second before the “D” word tripped past my lips. Taking a deep breath, I forced a smile before lying through my teeth.

  “Mel just got over a cold. Isn’t that right, angel?” Mel nodded, staring at her toes. “So I think we’re going to call it a night.”

  We stopped at the bar long enough for Mel to give Lily a hug and offer a slurred good-bye to the rest of my crew.

  She didn’t say anything when I entwined our digits and led her away, but I could feel the anger swirling around her like a cyclone.

  Once we entered the maze of hallways in the back of the club, Mel shrugged off my grip. Irritation tensed my jaw when she lagged behind, but I couldn’t decide if I was mad at myself, or at her.

  Pushing the back door open, my head cleared as soon as I inhaled the crisp, autumn air. When I turned to offer some kind of explanation, Mel was headed in the other direction, stumbling toward the alley leading to the front of the building.

  Catching up to her in four quick strides, I caught her around the waist. “Where are you going, baby?” The cars over—”

  “Don’t call me baby. I’m not a baby,” she spat, wiggling out of my hold. “I’m getting a cab.”

  My temper flared, even though I knew she had every right to be annoyed.

  “Melody,” I took her elbow, “you’re fucking trashed. Stop acting stupid and—”

  “Stupid?” She rose to her tiptoes, because, apparently she needed the extra few inches to make sure her ear-splitting shriek caught my attention. “You’re calling me stupid?! I may be drunk, but I’m not stupid! You just embarrassed me in front of everyone!”

  “I didn’t—”

  “Yes, you did!” Moisture welled in her eyes. “I was just…I wanted to fit in. And you…”

  Her thought trailed off as she looked at me, a solitary tear dancing on her eyelash.

  I blew out a breath. “Look, I was just worried, okay? You didn’t eat. And the booze—”

  “You think I don’t knooow about booze?” She narrowed her unfocused eyes. “I’ve been a diabetic since I was six years old.” She held up seven fingers—which would have been funny if she wasn’t so damn mad. “I’ve even dranken before.” She shook her head. “I mean…I’ve even drank before.”

  I rubbed the back of my neck, playing the nights events over in my head. Mel’s cheeks were no longer flushed and she didn’t appear to be in any distress.

  “Maybe I overreacted.”

  “That’s the proooblem, Christian.” She lurched, fisting my t-shirt as she fought for balance. “I didn’t ask for your help. You’re as bad as Mitch.” Stumbling to the wall, she leaned against the bricks.

  Anger flared as I closed the gap between us. Tucking a knuckle under her chin, I forced her gaze to mine.

  “What’s Mitchell got to do with this?”

  “Not a damn thing since I stopped doing him.” She hiccupped, and then she amended, “Dating him. Since I stopped dating him.”

  Grinding my molars, I grabbed her hand. “Come on; we’re going.”

  “I want a cab,” she whined, stumbling along behind me.

  “Too bad.” I shot her a glare. “I want a lot of things. That doesn’t mean I’m going to get them.”

  At the moment, the thing I wanted most was the image of her and Mitchell scrubbed from my brain.

  Yeah, that wasn’t going to happen either.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Hunched over my Froot Loops, I pushed the soggy cereal around the bowl. Mel’s breakfast of choice—scrambled eggs with a side of turkey bacon—sat untouched on a plate in front of the barstool next to mine.

  I made the meal as a peace offering. Apparently I’d suffered some kind of short-term memory loss last night at The Parish. I knew Mel wasn’t in any danger. Hell, I’d made it my business to find out everything I could about diabetes in the last month. Every medical journal I’d read stated clearly that overindulging in alcohol, on occasion, posed no serious threat to a stable diabetic.

  But even with that knowledge, I couldn’t help myself. And that was the real problem.

  If I’m honest, I worried about Mel all the fucking time, and it wasn’t limited to her diabetes. If she was late coming home from the library, I pictured her in a ten-car pile up on the freeway. If she got wrapped up in her studies and didn’t call, I sent her a text to find out where she was.

  My phone, which I largely ignored before I met Mel, was now a permanent appendage. And we weren’t even together.

  Were we?

  T
aking another bite of cereal, a sinking feeling washed over me as I gazed around the room. Mel’s stuff was everywhere. Neat little piles of textbooks on the table. A container of her favorite hot chocolate next to the coffee pot. Even the fucking recycling bin had more empty cans of diet soda than beer bottles.

  Stalking to the sink, I dumped what was left of my breakfast in the drain. The brightly colored rings slid down the river of milk and around the mug with the UT emblem on the front.

  Begrudgingly, I turned on the faucet and then squirted some soap on the inside Mel’s cup. The damn girl was content to splash some water over the damn thing and call it a day. If I didn’t wash it for her…

  I stopped scrubbing and placed the mug back in the sink.

  Still grappling with my thoughts, I jerked my gaze to the archway when Mel walked in, clutching an armful of folded laundry to her chest.

  “I made you something to eat,” I said as I picked up her coffee cup and resumed my scouring. “Do you want hot chocolate or coffee?”

  When she didn’t answer, my jaw ticked in irritation.

  I let out a sigh as I turned to the coffee pot. “Coffee or hot chocolate, Melody?”

  “Neither.”

  I spun around, zeroing in on the pile of clothes disappearing into the plastic garbage bag in her hand.

  “What are you doing?”

  Expecting to see fire shooting from her eyes when she looked up, I was stunned when she gave me a sad smile. “I’m leaving, Christian.”

  I leaned my butt against the counter, gripping the beveled edges to keep from falling over.

  “Leaving where? You’ve got the morning off.”

  My near growl caught her attention, and she sank onto the barstool in front of her plate.

  “I’m going home.” Averting her bloodshot eyes, she let out a staggered breath. “I’m sorry if I embarrassed you last night. I…I wasn’t myself.”

  The remnants of my breakfast threatened to creep up my throat and join their friends in the sink. She actually though this was her fault.

  Frustrated, I rubbed the back of my neck. “Listen, Mel, I um…I overreacted last night. I was just—”

  “I know.” She cringed, squeezing her eyes shut tight. “You didn’t want me to get sick.”

  “Well, yeah, that was part of it.”

  After I figured out that Mel wasn’t going to go into some kind of sugar shock, I spent the rest of the night tossing and turning, images of her and Mitch the Bitch bouncing around in my head.

  Taking a seat on the stool next to her, I blurted, “Why didn’t you tell me about Mitchell?”

  Mel cocked her head. “What about him?”

  Folding my arms over my chest, I scrutinized her with a narrowed gaze. “That y’all used to date?”

  “I told you I’ve known him for a long time.”

  “You also told me he was your lab partner. I didn’t ask any questions because he doesn’t seem like your type. I never thought…” I blew out a breath. “Was it serious?”

  She shrugged half-heartedly. “Not really. I guess he wanted it to be. Which is why I broke up with him. I thought he treated me the way he did because of his research background.”

  My back stiffened, both from her words and her apathy. “How did he treat you?”

  “Like a project,” she replied in the same dull monotone. “Always checking my food, or reminding me to take my shot. Eventually, he wouldn’t even touch me.” She chuckled, then looked down at her hands. “Unless it was to test my sugar.”

  “I would never—”

  Mel’s eyes met mine, resignation darkening the brilliant jade hue of her irises.

  “Yes you will. You already did.” She took a deep breath to fortify her reserves, and then continued, “I try to go about my life and act like everything’s fine. Like I’m normal. I tried to be normal last night. To prove to you that I could fit in.” She wobbled to her feet. “But I guess I can’t. And I don’t want to be that girl.”

  I took her hand before she did something stupid, like bolt. “What girl?”

  Brows drawn inward, she gazed at our entwined digits. “The girl I’ve always been—the sick girl.” Peering up at me, a watery smile curved her lips. “When I was twelve, I spent an entire week in the hospital after a slumber party. A stupid slumber party where I ate too much ice cream and pigged out on gummy bears.”

  “Why would—?”

  “Because I wanted to be like everyone else.” She frowned at the admission. “When I was really young, I used to skip my shots every now and then, just to see if I was cured.”

  “You were a kid. Kids do stupid shit.” I managed to chuckle over the dry lump in my throat. “If it makes you feel any better, I once calculated the wind current and jumped out of a second story window with some wings I made out of a tarp.” I lifted my arm. “Broke my ulna. Bone came right through the skin.”

  Running her fingertip along the raised edges of the scar, she murmured, “But you healed and I never will.” A tear slid down her cheek and landed on my skin, burning straight through to my bone marrow. “I didn’t think…I mean…I thought you and me, we’d have some fun, and that would be that.”

  “You’re not having fun?” I leaned in low, searching for her eyes. “I’m having fun.”

  She pinned me with her jade green gaze.

  “Were you having fun last night?” she asked, her bottom lip quivering. “Did you enjoy getting on your iPad to see if I was going to have some kind of seizure?”

  “You saw that?”

  She rolled her eyes. “I was drunk, not blind. Although, prolonged abuse of alcohol in diabetics can lead to blindness.”

  Throwing in that fun fact, she slipped her hand from mine and then shuffled to the dining room table to gather her books.

  “I was a fucking idiot, Mel.” I stole behind her, pressing my chest to her back. “I was worried for nothing. I know that now.”

  She spun around, leveling her most serious gaze on me. “About the alcohol, maybe. But there are other things. I didn’t exactly win the genetic lottery. What if I get sick—really sick?” She swallowed hard, fighting the tears welling in her eyes. “That might put a kink in things, don’t you think?”

  When I didn’t answer, she turned and continued to shove her books into her backpack. “I know I told you I don’t believe in love. But that’s not exactly true. What I don’t believe in is happily ever afters. Not for myself, at least.”

  Pushing me out of the way, she returned to the breakfast bar and then finished packing her clothes. I followed, as if my feet had a mind of their own.

  “What are you saying, Mel?”

  Hoisting the tote over her shoulder, she shifted away from me.

  “That you’re a sweet guy. I didn’t expect you to be a sweet guy. I didn’t expect…hell, I didn’t expect anything, Christian. Its time to stop pretending this is anything more than it is, so you can get back to your life.”

  “What do you mean: get back to my life?" Prickling at her suggestion, I added sarcastically. “I’ve been living my life, baby. In case you haven’t noticed.”

  Mel’s eyes raked me over like we just met. Like I was the guy in the picture hanging on the wall at the burger joint where she used to work.

  “What about the parties and the clubs? All the things you used to do instead of hanging out at the library.”

  Before Mel, clubs and parties were the diversion. A place to go instead of the library. But even if I told her all the things spinning around in my head, the way I felt this very moment, it wouldn’t stop the inevitable. Someday soon, when my feelings faded, I’d hurt her. Much worse than she was hurting now.

  Shoving my hands deep in my pockets, my fingers grazed the silver fob. Hooking my finger in the ring, I pulled her key from its hiding place.

  “I guess you’re right, angel,” I said thickly, pressing the small piece of metal into her palm. “I can’t hide out in the library forever.” The lie tumbled out with surprising ease. �
�Good luck with everything.”

  I’ll miss you.

  Biting my tongue, I took a step back, adopting a casual posture while Mel stared down at the key in her hand. When she finally met my gaze, I braced myself for whatever she was going to say.

  Lay it on me, angel. I deserve it.

  Though I knew I was doing all this for her own good, I still felt like shit. I wanted Mel to rage at me, kick my ass for letting her go. But instead she rushed forward, her body molding to mine like she owned it.

  Cupping my face in her small hands, she smiled, tears streaming down her face unchecked. “Good luck to you too, rockstar.”

  And then she was gone, her Chucks squeaking against the tile floor as she bounded down the hall.

  When the door clicked shut behind her, I waited for the relief. I spent a good minute just standing there, expecting the sky to open up and sunshine to warm my face.

  But the farther away Mel got, the colder I felt.

  I sprinted for the door, chasing something I had no right to chase.

  “Mel, wait a minute!” I yelled, stumbling onto the porch.

  The whine of her engine drowned out my voice as I hurried down the stone steps. I made it to the curb in time to see her pull out of the driveway.

  With a lump the size of a boulder lodged in my throat it was hard to get the words out. But I managed.

  “I love you.”

  It wasn’t a scream to the heavens. Just a tiny stitch in time. Today, I loved her. That was the truth. As fleeting as the feeling might be, Melody deserved the words, even if she couldn’t hear them. She also deserved a man who’d be able to say them without wincing.

  Shoving my hands in my pockets to ward off the chill that slithered over my skin, I headed up the path, leaves crumbling under my feet.

  In a couple of weeks, winter would descend and sweep away the fall, along with the girl that smelled like autumn. Logic told me it was true. But the invisible fingers wrapped around my heart gave me pause. In reality I knew they didn’t exist, anymore than the notion that love was a permanent state of mind.

  But if that were the case, why couldn’t I breathe?