Page 6 of The Wrong Heart

But I’m the sun, and he’s the sky, and I don’t know how to exist without him.

What happens to the sun when the sky falls?

No, no, no.

Stop it, Melody.

He’s going to befine.

Charlie starts coughing then, sputtering in my lap, blood misting my face like a grisly rainfall. “Charlie, Charlie… oh, God,Charlie.” I shake his shoulders and squeeze him to me, holding tight to keep him warm… because that’s what I do.

I’m the sun, after all—a beacon of warmth.

His throat bobs as he swallows, one lone tear collecting at the corner of his eye and gliding down his temple. Blood tinges the droplet as it makes a slow descent and lands near his ear. It just sits there, like it’s trying to hang on for dear life.

Charlie inhales a jagged breath. “You smell like peaches, Mrs. March.”

He’s still smiling. He’s stillsmiling, despite his broken body and blood-stained skin. “Your eyes remind me of peach pie,” I rasp, trying to stay strong. Trying to staysostrong.

Just like him.

“It’s meant to be.”

That singular tear finally falls, collapsing onto the cement, and then the ambulance and police cruisers pull up while people scatter like the clouds above us. As the medics approach, the sky explodes with thunderous lightning, a piercing crack that rattles my bones.

Freezesmy bones.

And when the rain pours down like grief, drenching me in its sorrow, I shiver and shake, teeth chattering, warmth eclipsed.

I cradle Charlie in my arms, rocking us back and forth, side to side, drowning in rainwater and blood and bitter tears.

He is cold now, and so am I.

Today was supposed to be beautiful—a new beginning, a new chapter, a new year of dreams and possibilities.

Our wedding anniversary.

But now it’s just the day the sun died.

—TWO—

When I open my eyes,I’m fucking pissed.

All I wanted was peace.

I wanted to fade away and drown myself in darkness, but instead, this brassy, artificial light is scorching my goddamn eyeballs. I blink back the hospital fluorescents, mentally cursing my insufferable luck, while strangers who are getting paid to give a shit about me wheel me down the long corridor.

This is her fault.

Sheput me here. She spit me out, branded me with all these scars and ugly stains, then left me here to rot with a stubborn death wish that won’t abate and won’t come true.

A growl erupts from my chest, an angry, embittered roar, and a baby-faced man in scrubs leans over to quiet me as we roll down the bright hallway.

Why is it so fucking bright?

“You’re okay, sir. Try to stay calm.”

Calm.

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