Page 82 of The Wrong Heart

It’s pointless; a dead end.

Breakdown: I want to fuck Melody, but I won’t. Some women are okay. I like food.

Final thoughts: This exercise sucked, and I’m no closer to feeling any better.

My mind continues to stew, the black cloud hovering over me growing more aggressive than the rainclouds outside my window. It’s raining—again. It’s been the summer of rain, and I can’t help but wonder if Melody is still out there, maybe perched on the sandy beach, doused in rainwater and remorse.

Fuck… she was so happy in that lake tonight, dancing and weightless, free as a bird.

And then I ruined everything.

My scars and old ghosts prevailed, snuffing out her spark and sending her right back into the darkness.

I made her cry.

I made her doubt.

I made her stop dancing.

And I hate that those thoughts are crawling beneath my skin and eating me alive. I’m not accustomed to regret or guilt. I don’tfeel.

But I’m feeling right now, and it feels like shit.

Walden nudges my sock-covered foot, making a little grumpy sound as I grumble right back. We’re two peas in a pod, this old mutt and me.

When I lean forward to scratch the scruff between his ears, my phone pings to life beside me on the sofa. My skin tingles, and my stomach lurches, thinking it might be Melody—wondering if she’s telling me to fuck off, or maybe she’s sending me a sweet, sympathetic message, which would be a billion times worse.

I snatch the phone up, seeing Magnolia’s name instead. I open the message.

Magnolia:I know I promised that things wouldn’t get personal. I’m sorry… I lied. I want to see you. I want to do a video call. I need to know that you’re real, that I’m real, and that you see me. Will you do this for me?

What the fuck?

My cheeks fill with air before I blow out a hard breath, scratching at my still damp mess of hair. She wants to do a video call? Shit…no. That sounds terrible.

I like our arrangement as is. No strings attached. Magnolia is my anonymous outlet, the only one I have, and one that I’ve grown to genuinely crave.

Magnolia lets me hide.

Chewing on the inside of my cheek, I shoot her a response.

Me:Where is this coming from? I like what we have. I’d prefer to keep it the way it is.

Magnolia:I understand—I do. I like what we have, too, but I’m yearning for more.

Me:Why? Because of your husband’s heart? Is that the basis of this connection?

Maybe I’m being an ass, but I’m already on edge.

I’ve lost Melody—I don’t want to lose Magnolia, too.

And when her response doesn’t come through right away, I’m pretty sure I get my answer.

Me:Thanks. Got it.

Magnolia:Please don’t be that way. I thought you didn’t get offended?

I grit my teeth.

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