“Me?” she questions as if my statement is absurd.
I’m not sure how else to make her understand. I reach my hand to her cheek and sweep the tip of my thumb along her bottom lip. “I wouldn’t forget my first kiss,” I explain.
“There’s no way,” she says.
It’s nothing I would have admitted to at the time, nor did anyone know back then, but between sports and trying to at least pass classes, there wasn’t time for much else.
“I went to an all-boys school,” I remind her.
She glances down again, her shyness making her all that much cuter than she already was. “You were my first kiss, too,” she admits, biting down on her lip.
I didn’t know for sure, but by the way she showed her nerves that night, I assumed it might have been a first for her. “I had no idea.”
“Liar,” she calls my bluff.
I shouldn’t be doing this right now. I want to kiss her. I want to lift her up from that damn bench and push her against the beam so I can press my nose to the side of hers, run my fingers through her soft hair, feel the heat of her cheeks burn beneath my palms and kiss her like I wish I knew how to ten years ago.
I need her.
But I know better.
I can’t.
Not now.
It hurts to hold myself back.
“I wish you were home for different reasons,” I say.
Melody places her hand down on my knee, her gaze following her fingers as she traces a small circle into the fabric of my jeans. “You are a nice distraction.”
I shouldn’t be distracting her from the reality of what she’s about to go through. It doesn’t seem right, and she could misconstrue this as me taking advantage of a weak moment. In truth, though, I would do anything for the circumstances to be different, but if they were, she might be with someone else, and I might still be playing house as a single dad. There’s no way either of us could comprehend what the other has gone through, and there is no rhyme or reason for how we both ended up back here like this.
The silence between us is filled with thoughts of what could be, but also, what can’t be … right now, and it’s enough time for Melody to fall back into the reality of her situation. “My mom must be wondering where Benji and I are. I don’t want her to worry,” she says, sounding disappointed.
“Good call,” I agree, standing up to clean up the glasses and bottle. I take the leash and unwrap it from the beam, allowing Benji to run ahead. He doesn’t gallop this time, allowing us to keep up. Melody’s hands are tucked into the pockets of her jacket, and a smile is still intact, pinching at her rosy cheeks. “I hope it’s okay that I stopped by tonight. I just needed to know you were okay.”
Melody presses her lips together and nods her head. “Yeah, it’s more than all right. I don’t remember the last time someone has waited around for me. It’s a nice feeling.”
How could no one wait around for her? I can guess there is more to the story of her ex-boyfriend, but if she was mine, I’d wait anywhere, everywhere, and for as long as it would take for her to come back.
I might have distracted her for a brief moment tonight, but thoughts of her, watching the way she walks, and the way the loose curls of her hair sway with each step almost makes me forget about the darkness long enough to find the faint glow from the light above her front steps. “Are you okay?” she asks as we step back onto the street?
“I am, thanks,” I say.
She places her hand on my back and presses her head into my shoulder. “I’m glad.”
We’re silent for the remaining minute it takes for us to reach her driveway, but I can think of at least a thousand things to say. I’ll save it for another night, though.
“Good luck with everything tomorrow. Text me if you need anything, even if it’s just company.” I hand the leash back to her and offer a simple smile. Seeing as we’re no more than a foot apart, I take the uninvited moment to lean forward and kiss her warm cheek. I don’t know if it’s too much or not enough, but I’m overwhelmed by the familiar scent of peaches. The shampoo. That damn shampoo. How can she still smell so beautiful after a day in hell? “Good night, Melody.”
She fights against a smile and spins around, nearly tripping over the leash attached to Benji. With a hint of a giggle I used to hear all the time, she sweeps her hair behind her back and jogs up the front steps to the door. I wait until she’s safely inside and head for my truck, wondering how I’m going to get my head out of the clouds long enough to find my way off this street.
17
WouldI have wanted a distraction when Abby died. I know the circumstances are different because Abby’s death came as a shock, but maybe I shouldn’t be assuming Melody needs or wants a distraction at the moment. I want to say I understand what she’s going through, but losing a parent is entirely different than losing a friend, and I don’t want to overstep.
My phone buzzes as I reach the first stoplight. It’s probably Mom looking to see when I’ll be by to grab Parker. I check the message as I come to a stop, finding a message from Melody.
