Page 56 of The Wrong Heart

I think you saved my life that night.

—Melody

—FOURTEEN—

This cannot be happening.

I’m standing in my kitchen, ankle-deep in water and drywall, with a caved-in ceiling and a screaming Leah.

Actually, she’s kind of squawking. Her arms are flapping, and she’s hopping up and down, shaking insulation out of her hair while her voice shrieks in a way that does not sound human. “Oh, my God! Oh, my God!”

I just stand there numbly, staring up at the giant hole that used to be a ceiling, wondering if this is some kind of twisted metaphor for my life.

Twenty minutes later, West is beside me whistling his condolences as Leah recovers on my living room couch with an oversized blanket and leftover cupcakes.

“Leaky pipe,” my brother says, shaking his head. “Not good.”

“Not good?”

“No. Not at all.”

“Thanks, West. A startling revelation.”

He fills his cheeks with air and blows out a hard breath, planting his hands on his hips and gazing up. “My buddy, Shane, is a plumber. The best. I can probably get him out here by tomorrow.”

“Does he fix ceilings, too?”

“Doubt it, but I’ll check. You might have to call your guy for that.”

I blink. “My guy?”

“Yeah, the douchey one.”

Oh.Parker.

Fidgeting, I cross my arms and pick remnants of my ceiling off my shirt sleeve. “Maybe.”

West throws me a probing glance before wading through the two inches of water in my kitchen and bending down to the lower cabinets for pots. Then he asks casually, “You sleeping with him?”

“What?” My head jerks up, my cheeks instantly flaring red. “No!”

“So, what you mean is… not yet.”

Leah pipes up from the couch. “Don’t be a dickhole, Westley.”

“I can’t believe you asked me that,” I snap.

“Why? You guys looked like… I don’t know, like there was something.”

“Something?”

“Yeah,something. Don’t know, Mel—that’s why I asked.”

My arms tighten defiantly across my chest. “Loathing and disgust are probably what you saw.”

West straightens, seemingly considering my response, then quips, “Nope. Wasn’t that.”

“It was called: none of your business,” Leah adds, gliding off the couch and strolling over to us, licking peanut butter frosting off her fingertips and making little popping noises.

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