Page 146 of The Wrong Heart

Mrs. Jameson skips over to a decorative side table, snatching a pen and stationary pad from the drawer, then shuffles them over to me. “Wonderful. He’ll be so excited to have a pen pal.”

A pen pal.

I can’t help the grin from tipping my lips at the notion.

Nothing could possibly go wrong there.

“Sounds good,” I say, scribbling my information onto the floral notepad and handing it back. I glance down at my handwriting before Mrs. Jameson plucks it from my fingertips and folds it in half, smiling her thanks.

[email protected]

When the sun hovers low in the cloudless sky later that day, I pull up to the front of her house and kill the engine. Hesitation and doubt keep me rooted to the seat for a solid twenty minutes before I work up the courage to climb her front steps, and then it takes me another five minutes to actually knock.

I’m goddamn clueless.

Should I have flowers? Chocolates or some shit?

An epic speech?

Shit. I need an epic speech.

But it’s too late, because my knuckles rap twice against the steel yellow door, a sunny contradiction to my thrumming anxiety, and her footsteps echo all around me.

Melody opens the door, the remnants of a smile kissing her perfect mouth, and when she sees me standing here, her lips thin. Her smile fades. Her eyes flash with surprise, glinting a stormy shade of green beneath her porch light. “Parker,” she says in a startled breath.

I observe the way she peeks over her shoulder, like she’s wary or nervous, then sneaks outside to join me on the porch. My eyes peer through the door crack with cautious curiosity. “You have company?”

Laughter filters outside, pulling my head to the left. It’s only then I notice the extra car in the driveway.

Melody clears her throat, her arms crossing over a blush blouse. “My brother and Leah stopped by. I’ve been kind of a hermit this past week.” She pulls her lip between her teeth, gaze darting everywhere but to me. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see you.”

I wanted to see you, so I came to see you. See, Melody? I’m fucking trying here.

But my eyes don’t manage to get my point across because she’s not fucking looking at me, and my voice evades me the longer we stand here on her stoop, inches apart, yet miles away from one another. My skin feels itchy, my lungs parched. My fingers yearn to reach out and touch her.

Melody’s lips shape into a smallOas she blows out a steadying breath. “Parker, I’m not sure why you came, but… I don’t think I’m ready yet.”

A prickling heat stabs at my chest like a hot poker. I swallow hard. “Look at me, Melody.”

She shakes her head through watery eyes.

“Why? Why won’t you look at me?”

“Please. I’m not ready.”

Fuck.

A growl of desperation sweeps through me, and I reach out, cupping her face between my palms and forcing her attention on me. Bending down, I drop my forehead to hers as she squeaks out a strained gasp. “Look at me. Fuckingseeme,” I rasp out, my fingers weaving through her soft hair. “I’m here, and I’m trying. I don’t have lavish gifts or words that will magically erase the stupid shit I did, and fuck if I know how to grovel, but I do have one thing… and that’sme. Right here, right now. Standing on your doorstep, asking you to give me another fucking chance. To look past my mistakes and see everything else. Look at the realme, Melody. The man you brought to life, who has no goddamn clue what he’s doing, but is doing it anyway because it fucking matters.You matter.”

Her tears fall instantly, tiny little waterfalls cascading down flushed cheeks, and a hoarse whimper escapes her parted lips.

My focus slips to her mouth, and my own lips tingle, aching to taste her. To reclaim all the things I know we had. The things westillhave.

I lean in, ever so slowly, so gently, giving her a chance to push me away… but she doesn’t move. Melody stands there on wobbly legs, clutching my wrists in two tight fists as I graze her mouth with mine. Our breaths beat hot and hurried, erratic, and I inch forward, pressing a featherlight kiss to her trembling lips. I can’t even prevent the moan that crawls up my throat when her warmth invades me, nearly incinerating me where I stand.

Melody clings tighter, rising up on her tiptoes, kissing my bottom lip with a needy sigh. But her sigh manifests into a sob, and she pushes back, escaping my clutches. “No…” she whispers, tone cracking. “I’m not… I don’t…”

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