Page 129 of Only in Your Dreams

Most of the time, anyway, and usually only when it comes to myself. I have no trouble visualizing tonight. That fourth win for Zac, Noah, and Brooks, and then the fifth, and every win after that. They deserve it, and I feel it down to my bones that they’ll get it.

I’m a pessimist, and the Connor revelations of the past couple months should be enough to keep me that way, at least when it comes to love. But standing by this empty table at Sheffield’s, I’ve never felt more hopeful.

All I can think about is how badly I already miss him, too. How seeing him that way yesterday, all battered and bruised… The utter fury I felt knowing someone had hurt him, had even looked at him the wrong way, it broke me open. That’s my guy, my person.

There are a thousand open questions. I’m set on moving away, and his life is here. We’d need to confess to a relationship that I’m not sure my brother would support. And after my breakup, I really wanted to get my life in order before committing to another man.

I pull a crumpled piece of yellow paper from my apron, withClover’s Playbookwritten across the top.

Get a job that pays better (and doesn’t give me the Sunday scaries)

Purge my life of everything that isn’t mine

Cut all ties to my ex

Do something I’ve been dying to do, but never have

Never hold back how I feel (dirty thoughts excluded)

I thought this playbook was going to be my secret sauce to life. I thought that if I focused on this list, and only this list, that I could get myself to a happier place. And it’s gone largely unachieved. I don’t have my dream career. I still live with my brother. I chickened out at the sight of Connor’s name on my phone, not long ago.

In a lot of ways, it seems like I’m still back where I started when I moved home a couple months ago. And yet, I’m not. I’m working hard at two jobs, found a career path that could really make me happy. I’ve been making new friends—the WAGs; Brooks and Noah, who I’ve come to adore—and reconnecting with old ones. I’ve… God. I’ve fallen in love with a good man, who encourages me at every turn. Motivates me, supports me in being my own person, finding my joy.

And the kicker—the most exhilarating part of it is… I think I could go off to the city on my own and make it this time. I really think I could. I don’tneedZac or anyone else to get it right.

But I don’twantto go a day without Zac.

What if my life doesn’t have to be perfectly squared away with frilly pink bows and sprinkles on top before thinking about forever? Maybe a little mess is okay, as long as I can trust myself to have my own back, if my world goes to crap again. As long as I can trust Zac to be my second line of defense, in the event I stumble too hard.

My body is buzzing, a steady vibration through each of my extremities, and it takes me a second to realize what it is. I’m excited about the future. I’mhappy.

To hell with waiting for things to fall into place.

The diner around me is almost dead quiet, on the tail end of another slow lunch shift as I get a head start wiping down my section before heading out for the day. Wynn is off by the register, apparently with the same idea as he counts out today’s earnings before the dinner crowd comes in. I turn back to my phone.

MELODY:Zac?

He’ll be on his flight already. My thumbs hover over the phone, trying to figure out how to convey the way he makes me feel through text so that the second he lands, turns on his phone, he’d feel some of it too.

I jump at the sound of two quick raps at the window beside me, facing out onto the street.

Only catch a glimpse of a vaguely familiar knit sweater before the diner door chimes open.

And Connor strolls in.

“Melly, thank God. I’ve been so worried about you.”

I freeze. Just stand there like an inanimate concrete block as Connor’s face stretches into a painfully familiar smile. In my head, his face has taken on a sinister look. Cast in shadows, with arrogant, malevolent smiles.

But here he is, at Sheffield’s, looking like he always has. Connor with the dark hair neatly pushed back, blue eyes bright and earnest. The deep dimples denting his cheeks as he takes stock of me.

I don’t realize I’m holding my breath until he reaches for my hand. My lungs expel everything they have as I jerk away, bumping into the table behind me in the process.

I’m not seeing things. He’s really here.

“Melly?”

I’ve got my phone in a death grip. With a concerned crinkle in his brows, Connor pries it from my fingers and pockets my phone before reaching for me again. It’s such a sinister move, confiscating my only method of communication with the world outside this diner, and it leaves me in such dead shock that I keep my hand in his.

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