by Bella Jewel
I know which would be better for us right now.
“I don’t know,” I say, completely full of shit. “It looks cold.”
I know it’s not cold. I’ve been here more than once. This is the best time of the year. Brody swims to the edge, looking up at me, those brown eyes making my heart flutter.
“Three seconds, Melanie.”
“Seriously, can we just ... I don’t know ... just sit on the edge.”
I don’t mean that, of course.
I want him to pull me in.
Oh, more than anything.
Brody grabs the side of the jetty and hauls his big body out, dripping and wet, and oh man, my knees shake.
“One,” he murmurs, taking a step toward me.
I wrap my arms around myself. “Do not, Brody.”
“Two.”
“Seriously ...”
“Three!”
He grabs me around the waist and hauls me over his shoulder, like I weigh absolutely nothing, and then he throws us both into the water.
I scream the whole way down, and when we hit the delicious lake, I let it wash over me as it surrounds my body. Then, I surface, laughter bubbling out of my throat. When Brody surfaces, I splash him, angrily – fakely of course – yelling, “You’re horrible!”
His mouth twitches.
It twitches.
Oh, my heart, my beating heart.
Brody just about smiled at me.
Maybe Lee is right. Maybe, just maybe, this is exactly what he needs.
To be reminded of what life was like before all of this.
To be reminded of how much he needs me.
And I need him.
Oh, yes.
This could very well go just as planned.
At least, I’m praying it does.
“OH, MY,” I GIGGLE, stumbling over whatever the hell just planted itself in front of me.
A rock? A log? I have no idea.
Brody’s hand lashes out and catches me before I topple all the way over, and he hauls me against his body, arm around my waist. My heart flutters. Stupid heart. It has some serious issues, because every time he holds me close, it acts like it has never been in love before. When it has, it really, really has.
The person holding me is its captor.
I think it has forgotten.
After our swim earlier, we did some water sports, and then went and found a place to have dinner later in the evening. A few drinks led to a lot of drinks, and now we’re stumbling back to the lake house like a bunch of teens who have just discovered vodka for the first time.
It has been an incredible day.
Brody has slowly relaxed over the course of the day, unwinding little by little, and even though he still holds that expression on his face that says do not mess with me, he’s a lot better. His shoulders aren’t rigid, and his body isn’t so wound up that he looks like he’s going to combust at any moment. We’ve had easy conversations, and slowly, it feels just like it used to. Like the last few months never happened.
We’ve talked a lot, and it’s as if nothing has changed.
“You know,” I say as we near the house, “this has been fun.”
“Yeah,” Brody tells me, still hanging onto me. “It has been. But, you know it doesn’t change anything, right? I know that you’re hoping it will, but it doesn’t. I’m still going into that fight.”
God dammit.
Why did he have to say that?
And ruin the amazing day we’ve had?
Fucking why?
I jerk my arm out of his grips and walk toward the house as fast as I can. Angry. Frustrated. Furious.
He follows me, gruffly calling my name. Just as I reach the front steps, he grabs hold of my arm and stops me, growling low, “Stop!”
“Why would you do that?” I cry, spinning around to face him. “Ruin the one thing I wanted from you, Brody? Why would you take this away from me? I asked one thing, and that was to give me this without all the other crap.”
“I know you, Melanie. I know what you’re thinkin’ in that head of yours. You want this to remind me of how it used to be, and maybe change my mind, but you ... everyone else ... you’re not fuckin’ gettin’ me. I have to do this. I have to.”
“You don’t have to!” I yell. “Brody, you don’t have to. You could honor Mick in a million other ways. Losing your life, that’s not the right thing to do. Why can’t you see that?”
“I’m not goin’ to lose my life!” he barks.
“Bullshit. You think you’re just going to walk in there, fight, and this will be done? That’s not how it works. I know you’re not that stupid. Those men don’t play by the rules. You’re walking into a trap you can’t get out of.”
“Don’t,” he hisses, “call me fuckin’ stupid.”
“You are stupid,” I cry, throwing my hands up. “You’re stupid for giving up everything for Mick. You’re stupid for thinking this is your fault. You’re stupid for carrying around this guilt. You’re stupid for letting me fall so in love with you, that I can’t imagine my life without you. Do you understand me, Broderick? I love you so much it burns. I’ll never get over this. I’ll never get over you.”
With a feral hiss, he grabs me, hauling me into his arms and smashing his lips down over mine.
Everything after that travels at warp speed. Like the movies. We’re tearing at each other’s clothes on the front porch of the lake house. My back gets slammed against the railing, my legs go up around his hips, and then he’s fucking me. Right there, in the open, his body slamming into mine over and over. Angry hisses escape my lips, followed by whimpers of pleasure. My nails drag over his skin, my lips kiss his with a desperation that can’t be tamed. I can’t stop.
I don’t want to stop.
I hate him.
Yet I love him so much.
His groans of passion fill the quiet night, and I can’t control myself any longer. I cry out his name as warmth and pleasure explode through my body. Brody slams harder, his balls slapping me with a ferocity that must hurt, but it doesn’t stop him, it doesn’t slow him down. When he finds his release, he finds it with a ragged gasp and then he slowly stops.
We stand there, panting in the moonlight. We’re both so desperate, so hurt, so angry, so broken and so confused.
I let myself back down to my feet and I tip my head back to look at him.
“I’m not done with you,” he murmurs.
Who am I to say no to that?
27
NOW – MELANIE
BRODY MAKES LOVE TO me numerous times over the course of the night. Our bodies intertwining, our passion igniting. It feels incredible, I can feel how we’re bonding, how things feel normal. But I know they’re not normal. They’re far from normal. Brody is going to fight, and I’m starting to realize that there is simply no way I’ll ever stop it.
That hurts.
So damned much.
We’re lying next to each other, his fingers looped in mine, both of us staring at the ceiling. I’m spent, I know he’s spent. We’ve never had so much sex in our lives together. It felt great, we found something in each other we’d both been missing for so many months. Now, we’re left with the empty silence that is filled with so many questions.
Questions I have to ask.
“There really is nothing in this world that is going to change your mind, is there?” I whisper.
“No,” he murmurs, his voice husky from sex. “But it isn’t because you’re not important to me, it’s because I owe Mick this.”
“Why?” I ask, rolling to my side. “Why do you owe him? I know you’ve said over and over that you promised him, and you let him down, and you carry all this guilt. But Brody, that isn’t enough to risk your life.”
“Do you know how it feels,” he asks, his voice low, his eyes still on the ceiling, “to get a phone call telling you that someone you loved has taken their own life? Not been killed in a tragic accident, but actually made the decision to take their own l
ife. Have you any idea how that would feel? Then, add the fact that you know, you know, you could have helped them. You know everyone around you has told you to walk away, that you’re making a mistake. So, you listen, you walk away because you think there is nothing else you can do, only to find they end it, because they’re do damned desperate they can’t think of any other way out.”
God.
I swallow, my throat tight.
“You can’t begin to understand it, because you’re not me, Melanie. You’re not in my head. I lost Ashley because I didn’t fight hard enough, hell, half the time I thought she was makin’ shit up to get my attention. Then, I gave up on Mick, because everyone told me he had sunk himself too deep, that he was beyond help. I’ve learned that nobody is beyond help. I swore to myself when Ashley died that I’d always listen to someone in need and I’d do everything in my power to make sure they got help. I’d never let another life go because of me.”
Oh. Poor Brody.
“But I didn’t keep that promise to myself. The pressure surrounding Mick got too much, and I bailed on him. I bailed when he was scared, when he was alone. I bailed because it was too hard. I could have done something. I could have figured out a way to get him out of that mess. I could have taken him to a center, forced him to get help. I didn’t do those things. Now he’s gone. He’s gone because he got so desperate, so scared, that he couldn’t find another way. Sniper is part of that reason. He was terrified of him. Because of that, I’m goin’ to get revenge for Mick. I’m goin’ to make sure, at the very least, he can rest in peace.”
I swallow, because I don’t really know how to argue with that.
When he puts it that way, how can I?
Brody is hurt. So damned hurt.
He’s guilty.
He’s broken.
He’s in a position where he feels like he’ll never be okay again if he doesn’t do these things.
Who am I to tell him his feelings don’t matter?
But, at the same time, how is it fair that my feelings don’t matter, either?
I don’t know what to say, or to do.
I just lie there, staring at him, not sure what to say.
We both have our points. Neither of us are wrong.
Not in our own minds, at least.
“What about me?” I whisper.
It comes out without thought, I was thinking it, but I didn’t expect it to leave my lips.
A soft tear rolls down my cheek, and I whimper, “What about me, Brody? What about me? You said you swore you’d never leave someone in pain, but if something happens to you, I’ll be left in pain. I don’t know if I’ll get through. I don’t know if I can go on if something happens to you. So, what about me?”
His face scrunches in pain, and I hate that I’m causing that pain for him, but I speak only the truth.
If he goes. If something happens to him.
I honestly don’t know if I’ll get through.
A world without Brody ... I just can’t ever picture it.
“Baby,” he murmurs, rolling to his side and grabbing my face, “I’m not goin’ to let anything happen to me.”
“That’s something you can’t tell me and actually mean,” I sob. “Brody, you have no control over what’s going to happen. You’re scared. I know you are. I know you well enough. So don’t you dare go telling me something you can’t possibly know.”
“I am scared,” he tells me, eyes locked onto mine. “I’m so fuckin’ scared I can’t breathe.”
“Then don’t do it,” I cry harder, my body trembling with each sob. “Please, just don’t do it. We’ll find another way. We’ll do something else. Please, Brody. Please. I can’t live if something happens to you.”
“Don’t say that,” he pleads.
I know those words aren’t fair, with everything he’s been through, so I don’t say them again.
But it doesn’t mean I don’t feel them, because I do.
I feel them so damned hard.
“Please,” I sob loudly. “Please don’t do this.”
He pulls me close and into his arms, wrapping them around me, holding me against his chest like he used to before all of this started. If I had a bad day, Brody had me. If I was sad, Brody had me. If I was in agony, Brody had me. Brody always had me.
Except for now.
He’s got me, but it isn’t enough.
It’s not going to change anything.
“If ...,” he murmurs into my hair, “If something goes wrong. You’ll get through. You’ll get through, Melanie. You’re strong. Stronger than anyone I’ve ever known. You’ve got an amazing family, amazing friends, and you’ll do it because you know you have to.”
“Stop,” I wail. “Stop saying that.”
“I’m goin’ to get out of this. I can’t promise you that, but I’m tellin’ you, I will. I’ll find a way. I’ll do whatever I have to, okay? I’ll come back to you, but you have to let me do this.”
“You won’t come back,” I sob.
“I will. I’ll find a way. Please, I need to know you’re goin’ to be here when I do.”
I pull back and look to him. “You didn’t want me a week ago. You ended things with me. Now you’re telling me what exactly? That you want me to support you, and wait for you?”
“Yes,” he says, his voice firm but steady. “Yes, I’m askin’ you to support me through this, this thing that I have to do. Then, when it’s done, I’m askin’ you to be with me again. To give me a second chance. I love you, Melanie. Never goin’ to change until the day that I die. I don’t want to be without you. But I have to do this.”
“You’re broken,” I whisper. “If I do this, you have to promise me you’ll get help. You have to promise me you’ll find a way to slay these demons inside of you, so this never happens again. Because I can’t survive something like this again. I can’t, Brody. Will you do that for me?”
He studies me, and then nods. “Yeah.”
“What you’re asking ...”
“It’s what you want,” he murmurs. “It’s what we both want. I thought I could live without you, but I fuckin’ can’t. Stayin’ away from you was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. I just wanted to protect you, fuck me, I still do. Every bone in my body is tellin’ me to keep runnin’ so you don’t get hurt, but I know you’re goin’ to get hurt, even if I do that.”
“If something happens to you ...”
“It won’t.”
“Brody, please,” I say, my voice slightly frustrated that he’s not hearing me. “Don’t be unrealistic.”
“I’m good, Melanie. I’m better than anyone that’s been put in front of me. I can do this.”
“Yeah, and what about after? What about after you’ve done something like that to someone? After you’ve experienced something so dark? What then?”
“I’ve experienced it already,” he tells me, voice flat. “I’m fine with it.”
My eyes widen. “You’re fine with taking a life?”
“When that life is as cold and as ugly as Sniper’s? Yes.”
Oh.
“Sometimes you scare me ...”
He grabs my chin in his fingers and murmurs, “I’d never hurt you. I’d never allow anything to happen to you. I’m doin’ this. I’m goin’ to get out of it. We’re goin’ to fix what was broken. You hear me?”
Can we, though?
Can we truly fix what was broken?
Or is it simply too late?
ONE WEEK LATER – MELANIE
“WAIT A SECOND, WHY the hell didn’t you tell me this?” Aria cries over the phone.
“I honestly didn’t think of it, until now.”
“Honey, you need to go and take a test. Like now. Brody fights in less than a week, if you’re pregnant, he needs to know.”
Those words make me shudder, with both fear and confusion. Pregnant.
I hadn’t planned on having a family for a very long time. Hell, I certainly hadn’t planned on having a family in this situation r
ight now, but here I am.
I’m late.
Two days, to be exact. It has been around ten days since the first time Brody and I had sex, and I was about a week, give or take, away from my period then. Is it even possible? Is it even possible to get pregnant during that time? I have no idea. I have absolutely no idea how it all works. All I know, is that I’m two days late. I’m never late. Not ever.
And today, I am.
I’m also not on the pill.
When Brody left, I forgot all about it, if I’m being honest. I didn’t care, either. I was so focused on everything, I just didn’t think of it. Even after we had sex, it didn’t click. Having sex with Brody, it’s so normal, so natural for me, I didn’t even think about the fact that I wasn’t protected at all.
Now I’m late and scared as hell.
“Is this even possible?” I whisper. “We only had sex ten days ago ...”
“Of course it’s possible, depending on your cycle. Trust me, I’ve done a lot of research into this. If you were ovulating when you two had sex, you could get a result a week later. It would have been impeccable timing, but yes, honey, it’s possible.”
“Oh, god,” I whisper.
“It’ll be okay. Go and get a test. Tell Lucy, so you have someone with you. FaceTime me as soon as you have that test, I want to be there.”
“Aria ...”
“Honey, go and get a test.”
We talk a few more minutes, and then I do as she asks. I go to the drug store, and I buy a test. Actually, I buy ten of them. Can’t be too sure, and I don’t want to go back if I don’t have to.
When I arrive home, Lucy is there as well as Erin. Great. They’re busting me clean in the act.
“Wow, what is that bag full of,” Erin says, eyeing the bag in my hand.
It’s pretty full.
“Pregnancy tests,” I tell them.
Their eyes about jump out of their heads.
“Whoa,” Lucy says. “What?”
“Yep,” I mutter. “I’m late.”
“Brody?” Erin gasps.
“Of course,” I semi-snap.
“Sorry, honey,” she says, looking guilty. “I didn’t mean that how it sounded.”
