“It is,” Sawbone quips, pushing past me like he owns the place.
“Sure, come on in.”
“Oh, stuff it, asshole,” he counters, not caring about the fact that I outrank him. “I came to tell you that Mellie’s here. Figured you’d want to help her get settled.”
I thrust a hand through my hair. “Oh. Right. Thanks.”
“No problem.”
“What did her doctor have to say?”
“Nothing you don’t already know,” he says with a shrug. “Try to let the memories return organically as much as possible. Pictures, sounds, smells, blah blah blah might help. Basically, just do what you do best.”
“And what’s that?”
“Love her, ya idiot.”
I huff out a breath. “You make it sound simple.”
“Because, brother, it is. So what if she doesn’t remember you? You won her over once… fucking do it again.”
With that less than stellar advice, he walks out of the room. Before I can even contemplate how to go about making Mellie fall in love with me, my phone pings with an incoming text. I retrieve it from the bed and glance at the screen.
Quake: Bad timing but we got a problem
Me: ??
Quake: Accident report released
I stiffen at that bit of information. The last thing I want to do is put off assisting Mellie get situated, but some things can’t wait.
Me: Church in 10… spread the word
11
MELLIE
Glancing around the room, I take in my surroundings. There’s a queen-size bed against one wall and a small dresser on another. Next to the dresser is an open door leading to the attached bath. The walls are painted white, and the only color in the space is the quilt covering the bed.
When we arrived at the clubhouse, which I’m told was an abandoned airplane hangar that was renovated, Sawbone went to talk to Lyric—I’ve learned he prefers that over Heath—and Zombie escorted me here. I was told that Lyric would be along soon, but then Zombie got a text and informed me it might be a while.
Make yourself at home.
Those four words were likely meant to comfort, but all they did was frustrate the hell out of me. How am I supposed to make myself at home when I don’t know where home is or what it looks like?
A knock on the door startles me, and I whirl around just as it opens, revealing a woman whose clothes leave nothing to the imagination.
“Hey, Mellie,” she greets with a smile.
“Um, hi.”
“I take it you don’t know who I am,” she says, stepping into the room and closing the door behind her. “That’s okay. I’m Peach.” She lifts a bag I didn’t even realize she was carrying. “Lyric asked me to bring you some things you might need.”
I stare at the bag like it’s a ticking bomb. “I thought… He told me that I live here, so where are my own things?”
She laughs, and the sound is like fingernails on a chalkboard. Peach seems friendly, but there’s something about her that’s scratching away at my brain.
“Oh, yeah, you do,” she confirms. “Everything in here is yours. I just brought it from your and Lyric’s room.”
