Idon’t waste any time going back to Melanie’s apartment. On the way over, I call Liam and Sophie and fill them in. Then I call The Ugly Mug and ask to speak to Andrew. I fill him in too, letting him know that Melanie would probably need a few days off from work. He sounds surprised to hear from me and guilt burns hot under my skin. He probably knows about our split. If you could even call it that.
This has got to be one of the hardest things Melanie has ever been through, seeing her dad like that. I hate hospitals—always have since Cara—but today? There is nowhere else I’d have rather been then by Melanie’s side, taking care of things for her. I’m still angry and sad, but I can’t leave her to carry this alone. I won’t do it.
I hurry into her apartment and head straight for the bedroom. The sight of the unmade bed hits me in the gut. When we first started sleeping together, Melanie made me promise to make the bed if I was the last one here—said she couldn’t start her day without it. How bad must things be if she’s stopped? The mattress dips under my weight as I sit on the edge. I hold her pillow to my chest, the faint scent of her shampoo still clinging to it. For a moment, everything inside me aches. Then I spring into action.
The phone charger goes in first, then the pajamas she always wears. Denim shorts. A few T-shirts. Leggings. A hoodie in case the hospital’s cold. Bra. Underwear. Deodorant. The body spray she likes. My gaze sweeps the room, searching for anything else she might need, but nothing comes. Just silence—and the ghost of her everywhere.
I move to the single drawer she gave me and yank it open. All that’s inside are a couple of pairs of underwear, black gym shorts, and my white undershirts. I frown. I know I left more than that. I look around the room thinking maybe she thought I wasn’t coming back and put my stuff in a bag or a box. My eyes land on her hamper and on top of it are at least three of my T-shirts. I walk over and pick one up, holding it to my face. Her. It smells like her.Melanie has been sleeping in my shirts.I laugh, not because it’s funny, but because she misses me as much as I miss her and it’s fucking great.
I drop the shirt back in the hamper and settle for my gym shorts, some underwear, and the white tees. It’s a good thing I grabbed a couple items at the cottage.
After one last sweep of the place, I flick off the lights and head for the kitchen, grabbing a few waters and snacks for the road. The sight of untouched fruit on the counter makes me pause, so a couple of bananas, apples, and oranges go into the bag too. Then I lock the door behind me, and I’m gone.
I have a lot of time to reflect on my drive to the hospital. It’s over an hour away, and I really wish Melanie and I shared our locations so I could see if they made it yet. I’ll admit that since Saturday, I worried that starting things up with her was a mistake. That I could have just protected myself from all this pain if I just never revisited the relationship to begin with. But today? Seeing Mel break the way she did, I know there are no mistakes. There are wounds, yes. Secrets that gutted me when I found out too late, grief for a child we’ll never meet, guilt for leaving her alone in it. And there’s anger, too, at her for not trusting me enough to tell me, and at myself for giving her a reason not to.
But none of that changes the truth that’s clearer now than ever—I still want her. All of her. Even the parts that hurt. We have a lot to talk about, a concert to perform, and things to work through, but for the first time in days, I know it’ll be okay.
Just as I’m pulling in the hotel parking lot, Melanie texts me.
Melanie: We’re here. They’ve assigned Dad a room but he hasn’t made it up here yet. I’m waiting in the hallway.
I quickly reply, not wanting to keep her waiting.
Me: Good. I’m just checking into the hotel. I’ll be there soon. What’s the room number?
Melanie: 364B
Me: I’ll see you soon.
Thankfully, there aren’t a lot of people checking into the hotel at this time of night, so the process is quick, and the room is ready. I head upstairs, drop the bags of clothes, and grab only the things I’ll need if we’re there for a long time. I also bring the fruit, knowing Melanie must be starved. We’re well past dinner time now. I head for the elevator, opening my Maps app as I walk, so I can get to her faster.
By the time I’m pulling into the parking garage, it’s dark out. This is a much larger hospital than the one Frank was at before. I can park in the garage and walk across the bridge to his floor. This place isn’t in the best area, and I’m glad I didn’t let Mel come alone.
I reach Frank’s hospital room quickly, knocking as I open the door. It’s a two-person room but thankfully, he doesn’t have a roommate tonight. Frank is reclined in the bed with his eyes closed while two nurses get him situated, checking his vitals and replacing his IV. Melanie sits in the chair across from the foot of the bed, looking forlorn and exhausted.
“Hey, baby,” I murmur in her ear when I walk in. I drop in the chair next to her and peck a kiss on the side of her temple. She looks caught off guard, like she wasn’t expecting any affection from me. I don’t want to make her uncomfortable, so I pull back. “What’s going on?”
“The nurses are getting him all set up so they can monitor him tonight and then they said he can order some food but that he should rest soon.” Melanie answers me but looks at her dad.
I pick up the hospital room service menu on the small table next to me, slowly looking it over. There’s a section that specifically says Heart Healthy. “What do you want to eat, Frank?” I ask. “You can have some grilled chicken and steamed broccoli…or?—”
“I don’t want that garbage,” Frank waves me off. “Let me see that.”
I laugh and step closer, handing him the menu. My own stomach grumbles just from reading the words.
The nurse finishes with his IV and turns to us, a little amused at Frank’s surliness. “How about a nice Turkey sandwich, Frank? A little fruit salad on the side? Crackers and hummus too.”
He tosses the menu back at her. “Fine,” he grumbles.
The nurse pats his arm and says, “I’ll order it.” She taps into an iPad. Then to Mel and me, “The doctor on call should be stopping in shortly.”
Shortly comes before she even leaves the room with a knock on the door. A tall man with neatly styled dark hair steps in, his crisp white coat embroidered with his name: Dr. Sharif. His presence is calm, assured, the kind that fills the room without effort.
“Hello, Mr. Glick, my name is Dr. Sharif. How are you?” He reaches for the hand sanitizer on the wall and pumps some into his palms before putting gloves on.
“I’ve had better days,” Frank admits, resting his head back on the pillows.
I glance at Melanie, but she looks as if she’s fading fast, so I make sure I tune in to the doctor.
