“I’d love to.” Melanie pulls out her phone.
I hold up my guitar, and Carter and I grin as Melanie snaps the last photo we could probably take before the sky turned dark.
“Look for it on Instagram,” I tell him.
Carter thanks us and jogs back to his family. I settle into my chair and find myself smiling. “That was cool,” I say, glancing at Melanie.
“It was. You probably just made that kid's life.” An easy, proud grin slides across her face. “Did it makeyoufeel good?”
“You know what? It really did,” I say, holding out my hand to her. She takes it and her palm is warm, fitting into mine like a lost puzzle piece. The first fireworks start, and everyone settles in to watch the show. “I think maybe I’d like that,” I say, more to myself than to Melanie.
“Like what?” She turns her eyes from the blaze in the sky to look at me.
“Working with kids. Teaching them music.” I shrug, meeting her gaze. “If the deal doesn’t work out.”
“You’d be great at it.” Melanie turns back to the sky. “But the deal will work out.”
“It’s just the first time in a long time that I didn’t feel like I was pretending. That kid looked at me like I could teach him something, not like I owed him something.” I rest my head on the back of the metal beach chair. “It’s just something to think about, maybe.”
Melanie looks my way again and squeezes my hand. “It’s never too late to find a new dream.”
25
MELANIE
Three days later, I can’t get out of bed. Josh’s blaring alarm to my left builds irrational rage in my tired body. My eyes burn, even though I haven’t opened them yet. My throat is drier than the Sahara Desert, and there’s a deep ache under my chin.
“Please,” I whine, pulling a pillow over my head. “Will you turn that off?”
A moment later the sound stops, and Josh’s strong arm drapes over my hip bone. I squirm out of his embrace, too uncomfortable to be touched.
“Whoa, what’s with you this morning?” Josh asks, sitting up on his elbow and pulling the pillow off my face. He lets out a soft gasp. “Do you feel okay? You don’t look so hot.”
His palm finds my forehead. He feels it for a moment before flipping his hand over and feeling my cheeks. “I think you have a fever.”
“I feel like I got run over by a school bus,” I moan. “What is happening to me? I never get sick.”
“I am pretty sure youaresick.” Josh hops out of bed and disappears into the kitchen. I close my eyes again and I’m just drifting back into sleep when I feel his touch on my arm. “Here, drink this.”
I peer at him through one eye. He’s holding a glass of ice water with a twisty straw. “Ugh,” I groan. “I can’t. I’m nauseous.”
“You have to stay hydrated.” He pushes the straw toward my lips, and I open for him, taking a small sip. My throat instantly feels relief. He pulls it back when I stop drinking.
“More,” I whisper, and seconds later the straw is in my mouth again.
“Do you have a thermometer? Do you want some Advil or anything?” Josh sits on the edge of the bed by my feet.
“In the bathroom drawer,” I mumble.
Josh disappears again and returns a moment later with the thermometer. “Open,” he tells me, poking my lips with the silver tip.
“I just drank water. It won’t even be accurate.” I drape my forearm over my forehead.
“Just humor me,” Josh says, sitting again and patting my knee. His touch sends a chill through me and not the good kind.
I open my mouth and the thermometer beeps almost instantly. “102.6. Shit.” Josh mutters. “Mel, that’s really high for an adult. Do you want to go to the doctor? I can take you.”
“No,” I whine, rolling into the fetal position. “Not moving.” My voice is muffled into the pillow.
