I’m unprepared for the lump that forms in my throat. I cough to clear it. Melanie’s line is perfect, but it makes my heart crack open. Maybe I can’t do this. Maybe I can’t write a song for Cara. It might be too painful.
“I like that.” I set my guitar aside, desperate to push away the sudden feeling of loss enveloping me. “You’re sexy when you write songs,” I murmur, crawling over to her. I pick up her guitar and set it on the armchair. “Let’s pick this up later.” I kiss her on the mouth.
Melanie giggles, kissing me back. “Josh,” she whispers into the kiss. “I thought we were writing a song about your sister.”
I deepen the kiss before pulling back slightly, resting my forehead on hers. “I can’t think about my sister when you’re so fucking sexy.” I scoop her up, catching her by surprise and she shrieks. “We’ll pick this up later.”
I carry her straight to the bedroom, kicking the door closed behind me.
* * *
Hours later,we’rehanging at Miles and Jenna’s before the fireworks. The girls are inside cleaning up from the feast we just annihilated, and the guys are playing cornhole in the yard. I’m teamed up with Liam—Miles and Jack are the other team. The kids are running around with Pete and Maggie, the older ones tossing a Frisbee. I find myself smiling as I watch them between my turn throwing bags. This feels right, it feels like I should have never been anywhere else. The Josh I am here in Cape May is the closest I’ve come to the boy I used to be, before the weight of the world shaped me into someone else. For the first time in years, I’m not lost in the past or chasing after the future—I’m just me.
I toss my bag at the same time as my phone pings. I pull it out of my pocket in time to see a couple of text messages from Gary, my manager. The first message is a simple “Hey check this out.” A link follows. I tap it—it’s a link to People Magazine’s Instagram post. It’s a photo of Keira looking cozy on a daybed at some luxurious looking beach resort. The caption simply says, “Keira gets cozy with Damon Jennings.” I must let out a growl because Liam calls my name from his side of the cornhole boards.
“Earth to Josh. You good, buddy?” He cups his hands around his mouth.
I shove my phone back in my pocket and pick up one of the bags that Jack has already gathered up for me. “Sorry,” I mutter, preparing to take my throw. “What’s the count?”
“Eighteen to twenty, us. Aim for just the board,” Liam calls. The rules of cornhole are one point for the board, three points for the hole. Twenty-one wins.
I take a step and toss the bag underhand, landing squarely on the board.
“Woo!” Liam whoops, jumping in a circle. “Now just toss to me.”
I toss the other two bags to him, and he catches them one-handed.
“Good game, suckers,” Liam quips, slapping Miles on the back.
I shake Jack’s hand, followed by Miles.
“This calls for one of Sophie’s red, white, and blue Jello shots,” Liam suggests. “It’s America’s birthday, baby.”
I bark out a laugh and hold up my hands. “I’m good, I’m good. I’m not drinking tonight.”
Liam’s expression falters slightly, and he glances between me and the other guys, as if he just realized it now. “You sure? It’s the fourth!”
“I’m okay.” I give him a friendly nod, unsure about how much I want to divulge right now.
Before I can even decide, Jenna yells out the back door. “Boys! Let’s start to head up to the beach.”
I let out a breath through my mouth. “You heard the lady, boys,” I murmur, grateful for the change in subject.
I bolt for the back door, finding Melanie in the kitchen sipping a glass of wine. She catches my eye and swallows before dumping the rest of her glass in the sink.
“Hey, alcohol abuse,” Danny’s wife Kristen scolds. “What’s with you?”
Melanie eyes me in the doorway before flicking her gaze back to Kristen. “You said you were ready to go.”
“You could’ve chugged it.” Kristen rolls her eyes. “That’s good wine.”
“Sorry,” Melanie mutters with a half-hearted shrug. Kristen doesn’t hear her; she’s already moved to the front door in search of her shoes.
I move quickly to Melanie’s side and pull her into a hug. She melts into me, and I feel her inhale deeply, nuzzling into my chest. She lets out a sigh.
“You don’t have to throw your drink in the sink when you see me, you know,” I whisper into her ear.
“I know,” she says, pulling back to look at me. “I just…want to be respectful.”
