Page 133 of The Wrong Heart

I knew then that I couldn’t fake happiness. I couldn’t fight for joy that didn’t exist. Even the goddamn plant knew I was a hopeless case.

But Walden… he’s changing right before my eyes, a striking parallel to my own metamorphosis. And it’s real this time, it’s not an act or a ruse.

It’sreal.

I’m happy.

Riding out the emotional waves, I pull Walden closer to me and stroke his soft, newly grown-in mane of fur. He makes a wispy little sighing sound, something peaceful, and snuggles in farther to the crook of my hip. He knows the truth.

He knows it, and I know it.

I’m fucking in love.

I don’t hear from Melody at all the next day, which throws me a little. It’s already late, dusk fading into dark. After the night we shared together—the gift I gave her, and the gift she gaveme—I expected a message. A phone call, even. Maybe a surprise visit. It felt like we had bridged a final gap somehow, and all the scattered pieces were falling into place.

We’d ended the evening in my truck, with her in my lap, riding me as the sun set beyond the horizon, and I clung to her tighter than ever before. I’d invited her back to my place, thinking I’d finally bring her into my bed and make love to her until dawn, but Melody had declined, telling me she had an order of cupcakes she needed to fulfill.

After climbing out of the shower an hour ago, I finally gave in and texted her. Maybe that’s what she’s been waiting for—effort on my end. Better communication.

And hell, that’s fair.

Palming the cell phone in my hand, I realize I keep checking it every few minutes or so, anxious to see her name light up my screen.

I’m not used to this feeling of expectancy, this antsyyearning.

I toss the phone to the other side of the couch, internally glowering at myself for acting like a lovesick fool. But just as I pull up from the cushions to go search for a distraction, I hear the telltale ping.

Pathetically, I dive back to the sofa at record speed and dig my hand between the cracks where my phone slipped through. Snapping my arm up, I swipe at the screen, unlocking her response.

Only… it’s fromMagnolia.

Magnolia:I wasn’t going to contact you again, but here I am. Something is nagging at me, and I can’t let it go.

What the fuck?

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I settle back down onto the couch, my insides twisting. I was so fucking close to deleting this entire goddamn account after she messaged me the last time, telling me that I left her doubting her own worth.

Fuck, that hurt. That hurt like hell.

But I thought it was over. I thought Zephyr would finally disappear, become a distant memory, and Melody would never have to know we were one and the same.

Or, more importantly, thatI’veknown that fact since the night in her backyard, when I fucked her against her shed instead of telling her the truth—the whole reason I went over there in the first place.

Coward.

But I knew she would see me differently once she knew, everything would change, and I couldn’t lose that.

Holding my breath, I wince when another message comes through.

Goddammit, Melody… messageme. Respond tome.

Magnolia:What does the number stand for in your screen name?

My mind stutters.

Why is she asking me thisnow?

After all these months. After all this silence.

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