Page 19 of Ebbing Tides
Her stare was aimed directly at the badge I wore around my neck, the one that would've been hidden from her view thenight before. Her lips were open, mouth agape, her eyes soft but unblinking. “Oh my God. You're … you'reMax Tailor.”
I eyed her through skepticism and a hearty dash of hope as I took a small step toward her. “Wait … I thought I was going crazy, but you’re … you’reMelanie?”
It sounded insane. Of course she was Melanie. It was her name. But could she possibly be the Melanie? The one who had haunted my dreams for the past two decades? The one I’d longed for, yearned for, in the pit of my gut and the hollow of my heart?
Her lips spread into a wide, laughing grin as she nodded. “Oh my God, this is so wild. I thought it was you yesterday, but I didn't want to say anything in case I was wrong. But …” She gestured toward my badge. “Oh my God, I can't believe it’s you. I can’t believe you'rehere.”
Oh my God.
I looked at her, not knowing what to say, what to do, what tothink. It washer. It was really, undoubtedlyher. That woman I'd met at the repair shop over twenty years ago. The one I'd shared a few wonderful hours with after my heart was broken for the first time. It washer. She was here. And I couldn't begin to keep up as my mind raced, trying frantically to understand what that meant. I shook my head, staring at her now like she might be a ghost, afraid that if I blinked, she might disappear from view to fade away, never to be seen again.
“Wild,” I agreed, remembering the nights I'd lain awake, wondering what might have happened if she hadn't been—
A whispered gasp escaped my lips as recollection seeped in.
“Luke,” I said, recalling the guy who'd fixed my old truck.
He had told me he had the same one. Herhusbandhad driven the same truck.
Oh my God, how could I have ever thought it wasn't her?
She nodded, a familiar sorrow twisting at her lips. “Yeah.”
“I'm so sorry,” I said again, but now, it felt different. More personal somehow.
“Yeah,” she repeated, turning to find the cigarettes and lighter on my desk. They were right there, in plain sight, and she asked, “Do you mind if I smoke in here?”
“Honestly, I wouldn't care if I didn't have to share the place with the guy who works here during the day.” I gestured toward the single window. “I'm just gonna air the place out a little.”
As I undid the lock and pushed the old wood-framed window open a crack, my heart began to thud, rattling against my bones. Every nerve in my body was pulled taut, threatening to shatter with every stuttered breath taken. She washere. Standing just shy of three feet behind me in a space too small for one person, let alone two and a large dog. It shook me to the core to realize I had known all along. My mind might've doubted the possibility, but my body, my soul's reaction to seeing her … Iknew.
And, holy fuck, she knewme.
She hadn’t forgotten.
“There you go,” I said, gesturing toward the open window.
“Thank you,” she said, sitting in the other chair and pulling a cigarette from the pack. She held it out to me. “Want one?”
I eyed the long white cylinder between her fingers. “Wow, I haven't smoked since my Army days,” I mused, reaching out to accept it and, in the process, brushing my fingers against hers.
She pulled back immediately and rubbed those fingers against her thigh before pulling another cigarette out.
“Were you a regular smoker?” she asked without missing a beat, despite her shaking hands.
I shook my head as I boldly reached out to pluck the lighter from where it balanced on her knee. “I only smoked when other guys were. It was a, uh, social thing, I guess, but I never hated it. Just wasn't my vice of choice.”
“And what was that?” she asked, watching as I placed my cigarette between my lips and brought the end toward the dancing flame.
I held out the lighter, its flame illuminating her face as she leaned in to set her smoke alight. I was transfixed, mesmerized by the way her eyes sparkled silver in the firelight, and I was too oblivious to the fact that I hadn't smoked in twenty years.
I coughed, pinching the cigarette between my fingers as I pulled it from my mouth and clasped a hand to my chest. Melanie sat back, amusement in her eyes as she took a drag, her lips twitching and deliciously threatening to smile.
“Booze,” I answered, my voice choked as I caught my breath. “That was my poison.”
The amusement was defused instantly. Her gaze dropped, her eyes blinking rapidly as she pulled in another lungful of smoke, this time shakier than the last.
“What is it?” I asked.
