Page 78 of The Spider & the Storm

For a second, I thought about stopping her. I thought about giving her a second chance and sweeping her stupid, drunken misdemeanor under the rug just this once, like it didn’t matter when it very much did. I barely lurched forward, ready to makea run for it, ready to cut her off before she could make it to the door, when Luke shot his arm out. Blocking me from moving and knocking that last bit of needed sense into me.

She disappeared into the living room, her creepers plodding quietly against the squeaky hardwood floor, and then the front door opened and closed behind her.

That was when it dawned on me that she’d never stalled. She’d never turned around. She’d never begged me to reconsider.

She had just left.

Everyone fucking leaves. ExceptMelanie.

Melanie never fucking leaves.

Fuck.Melanie.

She had been so quiet ever since the proverbial bomb had dropped, and when I turned to her, I found her still sitting at her place at the table. A dead stare had fallen over her eyes, but her hands shook, and her throat worked relentlessly, swallowing over and over again.

Luke was just as silent, gripping the back of his chair and hanging his head.

“Melanie,” he finally said, and it hurt to hear the magnitude of his pain, thick in his gruff voice.

She didn’t reply, but she closed her eyes and slowly shook her head as one lonely tear escaped from between her lashes.

It fell onto her plate of barely touched lemon chicken.

The last supper.

Panic rose in my throat at the thought.

No, she won’t leave. Melanie never leaves. She’s never too mad at Luke to not forgive him. She’s never mad enough to fall out of love.

“Mel.” Luke lifted a hand to brush the hair off his forehead, only for it to flop back down again. “Come on. Talk to me.”

Yes, please, God, talk to him.

She opened her lips to speak, and nothing but a little whimper passed through. She laid a shaky hand over her eyes and swallowed again, taking a deep, quivering breath, then said, “Luke, I think … I think we’ve talked enough.”

He turned abruptly to look at her, but she didn’t look back.

“What does that mean?”

“It means”—she licked her lips, then gasped on a sob—“I’m done talking.”

He didn’t comprehend. He couldn’t.

His head shook as he turned to me, his eyes begging for help as he said—to her or me, I didn’t know—“I-I don’t get it. Weneedto talk. We … we need—”

“What the hell is there to say, Luke?” Melanie’s hand hit the table as she turned to face in his direction, and still, her eyes wouldn’t reach his.

“We can talk about what just happened, o-or, um, we can—”

“You didn’t tell me!” she cried, springing to her feet and thrusting her hands against his chest. “You want to fucking talknow, but you didn’t tell me when it happened!”

Tears fell from her eyes, streaming rapidly over her face and dripping from her chin to the floor. And with every one, myheart broke a little more. I wanted to go to her. I wanted to wrap her in my arms and let her cry. I wanted to be there for her, just as we’d been there for each other for so many years.

But I didn’t.

I stayed at my brother’s side. Because I thought, for some reason, he needed me more.

“I didn’t tell you because it didn’t matter,” he admitted in a hushed tone. “She kissed me, and I was caught off guard, but I pushed her away. Ineverkissed her back. God, youknowI wouldn’t, Melanie. You know that. I would never—”

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