Me: Mellie isn’t in her room
Peach: No shit
Me: Check yourself… where is she ???
Peach: How should I know
Me: WHERE IS SHE
Peach: Check your room…
Gripping my cell, I make my way to the large space Mellie and I shared until the night before our wedding. The lock disengages after the scanner reads my palm, and I push open the door. I scan the room, but other than a discarded bag on the floor, I don’t see any trace that Mellie was here.
Then I hear it… the sound of crying mixed with the shower running.
I hurry to the attached bathroom, and sorrow fills me when I see Mellie sitting on the shower floor with her legs drawn up to her chest and her head resting on her knees. Her shoulders are shaking with sobs, and the guttural sound coming from her is equal parts terrifying and heartbreaking.
“Mellie?”
Not wanting to scare her, I take my cut off and set it on the vanity before stepping inside the glass-enclosed shower stall slowly. She doesn’t lift her head or even acknowledge my presence, so I squat in front of her and cup her cheeks.
“Mellie, baby, look at me,” I coax but still get no reaction. “What’s wrong?”
“H-h-he’s gone,” she stutters through the sobs. “I… I remembered him, a-and h-he’s d-d-dead!” she wails.
Rowdy.
Without giving it a second thought, I turn so I can lean against the wall and lift her into my lap. My cock springs to life being so close to her naked body, and I’m grateful I didn’t waste any time taking off all my clothes. Maybe the denim will hide it from her enough.
“I know, baby,” I soothe, resting my chin atop her head. “Let it all out.”
I have no clue how long we sit in the shower, but by the time her sobs have slowed to a wet hiccuping, the water is frigid, and she’s shivering. Standing with her in my arms, I step out of the shower and set her on the closed toilet seat. Then I grab one of the fluffy towels she insisted we buy a few months ago, wrap it around her, lift her again, and carry her to the bed.
“I-it’s…” Hiccup. “My f-fault.”
Rage like I’ve never felt before slithers through my veins. I’m not mad at her but rather at the fact that she could possibly blame herself for what happened. Shit, if there’s anyone to blame, it’s me.
I’mthe one who didn’t fix her car.
I’mthe one who asked Rowdy to pick her up.
It’s all. My. Fault.
13
MELLIE
Ishould put some clothes on, demand that he leave until I’m dressed, but letting Lyric comfort me feels… good.
You don’t know him!
My mind might not recognize him outside of brief flashes, but my body is screaming for Lyric. Not that I’ll act on it.
“Aw, Mellie,” he croons, his arms wrapped around me like a warm blanket. “It’s not your fault. Why would you think that?”
The question takes me by surprise. “If I h-hadn’t been at t-that st-stupid hotel…”
Lyric stiffens, his gaze locking with mine. “You remember that?”
