Page 14 of Only in Your Dreams

I haven’t spoken to her since I left her that night.

I still haven’t figured out how to stop thinking about her.

My life started with the first four-leaf clover Mel Woods ever handed me, and it ended the day she left town. And now…

“I’m sharing a tent with her,” I say to Summer. “I haven’t seen her in ten years. Don’t I get a little sympathy?”

“Sympathy for what?” Summer asks, rolling her eyes. “She’s having a rough go of it right now. She just got out of a relationship—”

Hold up.

I narrow my eyes. “What does that mean,she just got out of a relationship?”

Summer gives me an odd look. “It means she was recently broken up with,” she enunciates, like I’m some kind of moron.

I don’t blame her. My brain does seem to be short-circuiting. Because… hedumpedher?

He actually dumpedMelody Woods?

Is he insane?

“She’s trying to get back on her feet after a bad relationship, dealing with some controlling stuff she doesn’t seem to have wrapped her head around yet,” Summer goes on. “You want to talk about sympathy, then you go and give that some thought.”

“Controlling? What do you mean?”

Right on cue, the tent behind us flaps open and we turn to watch Melody crawl out, unfurl herself as she stands. Hair catching in the wind, fluttering behind her and looking so whimsically beautiful I feel some of the tension in my shoulders start to ebb. She gives a big, restless sigh, eyes taking in the campsite.

God, I fucking missed her. The rare sound of her laugh, the shape of her eyes.

I missed her scowl. The one she gives when you’ve royally annoyed her. The one that looks like she’s on the verge of your murder, unless you know to look for that little twitch in the corner of her mouth, telling you she’s only trying to get a rise out of you. To see if you can keep up.

I missed her looking at me without this veil of disappointment. Of distrust. Resentment. Like she wishes I were anywhere but here in front of her.

And then, with another deep breath, she staples a smile on her face. It doesn’t reach her eyes.

“I think this calls for a drink,” she announces, planting her hands on her hips. “Any chance I can snag a beer off someone?”

I stare at her dumbly. I’m so stunned by the renewed sound of her voice, this voice I’ve craved for ten years, that Brooks is already halfway to the cooler before I recover.

“Thank you,” she tells him, cracking open the can he offers. “I completely blanked on bringing anything for myself. This is what happens when you’re basically sober for six years.”

“You’re sober?” Summer asks, watching with alarm as Mel tips the can to her lips and takes a long sip, then winces as she swallows.

“No, I’m not. It was part of Connor’s wholehealthy livingthing. My ex-boyfriend,” she clarifies for Brooks’s benefit. “Rule number two: no drinking your calories.”

What the fuck?

“Pardon me?” Summer says sharply. We exchange a look. She looks just as disturbed as I feel.

Mel clears her throat, deepens her voice, makes it go a little lofty. “‘It’s a waste of calories, Melly. You don’t need it.’” She gives a weak smile. “That’s not exactly what he sounds like, but you get the picture.”

Brooks gives Mel an up and down. “I’m not a nutrition expert or anything, but you don’t look like you need to be counting your calories. What was rule number one?”

She shrugs so nonchalantly I know instantly I’m going to hate whatever she’ll say next. Not just because it’s already clear this exwasa controlling motherfucker. But because she doesn’t even seem fazed by it. Like he’s robbed her of all fight. Everything that made herher.

“Rule number one: stick to the meal plan. It was our thing. Working out, staying healthy.”

“And didhefollow a meal plan?” Brooks asks, tone suggesting he already senses the answer.

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