Page 15 of Tangled up in You

“Yeah.” Her response is quick and obviously done on reflex.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“We’re going to have to discuss it eventually,” Simon chimes in.

I cringe. I wasn’t sure if she was stressed about the storm or last night, but Simon’s definitely referring to the latter. Pushing her, especially when there’s nowhere to escape, isn’t the best idea. It could cause Melanie to make a hasty decision, one that isn’t in our favor.

“I understand that,” Melanie says. “But I’m not interested in doing it right now.”

Simon sits up. “Then when?”

“Simon,” I warn. He needs to let it go for now.

“No,” he insists. “We’re adults, and I want to know why this can’t be discussed now. Putting it off isn’t going to help.”

It might.

Melanie narrows her eyes. “Since when do you care about discussing your feelings? In high school, you were voted most likely to die a bachelor because of your innate ability to avoid emotional attachment to anyone you fucked.”

“Oh, damn,” Kent mutters.

I wince. This is not good.

“Now!” Simon says. “I want to discuss them now.”

I rub a hand down my face. Simon isn’t one to mince his words with us, but it’s obvious, his desire for her hasn’t waned in the last twenty years. If anything, it’s gotten worse, making him impulsive.

“Well, I don’t,” she says.

The lights flicker one last time before shutting off completely. I sigh. This is going to be a long night.

“Simon, can you and Kent get the fire going?” I ask. “Melanie and I will get the blankets.”

“Blankets for what?” She turns her phone’s flashlight on.

“It will be too cold to sleep anywhere else. This is the only room with a fireplace.” I get to my feet and put a hand out to her. “You can take the couch. We’ll sleep everywhere else in here.”

She’s silent for a while, but eventually puts her hand in mine. “Fine.”

We walk to the hallway using her flashlight to see. The tension surrounding us is even thicker than before. I hate pushing her, but things won’t get better if we leave it how it is.

Opening the closet door, I say, “I know it’s weird for you after what we did, and if you want to forget about it, we will, but you need to voice it so Simon will understand. This is hard on him.”

“What do you mean ‘for me’? Isn’t this weird to you?” she asks.

I pass her a few blankets. “Not really. We were okay with it last night, and we’re okay with it now.”

“But why? I mean, I really don’t understand how that’s possible. I’ve been gone for two decades. We don’t know each other anymore.”

“It doesn’t matter if we don’t know you now. We can learn. What matters is we knew you then, and what we felt before hasn’t changed simply because we’ve been separated. Drunk or not, you wouldn’t have slept with us if you didn’t feel something too, right?”

She doesn’t reply, just glances away. I don’t want to upset or confuse her more than she already is, but Melanie couldn’t have changed so much that she’d do something so reckless without being drawn to us.

I grab more covers before following Melanie back to the living room.

I’m partially hoping we’ll need the added comfort of body heat to keep us warm, but Melanie doesn’t seem too keen on that idea. Kent and Simon have the fireplace burning well on our return. Melanie shuts off her flashlight.

---