“Hey,” Jenna says. “I thought you were at work?”
“Nope, home early.” I don't look directly at them. If my brother sees me this way, he's going to start asking questions that I don't want to answer.
“You okay?” Ryder asks.
“I'm fine,” I answer, my voice carrying a hint of the obvious. I'm not fine. Not fine at all.
“Mel, what is it?” He follows me to the bottom of the stairs. “What happened?” he asks, about to follow me up.
“I'm fine, Ryder. I don't want to talk about it,” I say, not looking back at him.
“Mel, talk to me.” He takes a step up, causing me to whip around.
Tears are streaming down my face as I hold out my arms. “What don't you understand? I don't want to talk about it.”
Jenna comes up behind him and rests her hand on his shoulder. “Let her go, babe.” Grabbing his wrist, she looks up at me and gives me a gentle smile as she pulls him back to the kitchen.
I can hear the muffled chatter between them. I don't know what they're saying, and I don't really care. Right now, Ryder's feelings or worries aren't my concern.
Entering my room, Buttercup is asleep on my bed. When I shut my door with a bang, his head pops up and he wags his tail. The second the door closes, that's it.
The floodgates open, and I'm sobbing uncontrollably. Buttercup perks his head higher, feeling my energy and knowing something is wrong. Throwing myself on the bed, he cuddles up next to me and rests his face on my shoulder.
I've never felt like this before. Not once over the years have I shed these kinds of tears for any man.
Because he's not just any man. He's the man who stole my heart.
The realization sets in that this isn't just because he won't give me an answer. These tears aren't because he's just a guy who broke up with me.
These are the tears of losing someone I love.
I love him.
Branson swept me off my feet. He's everything I've ever wanted in someone else. He's creative and handsome. He loves the outdoors and isn't afraid of a challenge.
And now he's gone. I lost him and I don't even know why.
Turning on my side, I snuggle up with my dog and just cry. I cry until sleep makes my eyes heavy and I can't keep them open anymore.
12
Melody
“You all right?” my boss asks.
Nodding, I give him a forced smile. “Yeah, I'm fine.”
“You sure? All week you've been moping around. Where's the smile our guests know and love?”
Tapping a pen against the counter, I try to make my smile more genuine. “How's this? Better?”
“Mel, I've known you for a long time, and I know when things aren't right. If something is going on and you need to take time off, you can. You know that, right?” Bill softens his eyes, reaching over and grabbing my hand. “It's okay.”
“No, I'm good. Really, I'll be fine. It's no big deal, but thank you.” Standing up from the desk, I grab the broom from the closet and start sweeping the floor. “Besides, being at work is far more helpful. It gives my mind something else to do.”
“Okay,” he says warily. “I'm here if you want to talk, too. I know it's hard without your dad around, so if you need someone, I'm here for you.”
“Thanks, Bill, I appreciate it.”
He gives me another smile, then heads to his office. He's right. I haven't been myself lately. Some of the guests have asked if me I'm okay. My coworkers have been tiptoeing around me, not sure what to make of my mood. They’ve mostly been avoiding me, and I appreciate that. I’m not in the mood for a chat and some gossip between shifts.
But I'm not going to spew my problems out to everyone. This is my problem, and there's nothing anyone can say or do that will make this pain go away. I've hurt like this before, I know it will fade eventually.
These things just take time.
Clocking out, I throw my purse over my shoulder and decide to hit the store on my way home. I grab a small carriage, I walk it slowly through the aisle. Pulling things off the shelves aimlessly, I finally look down at my cart.
Cookies, chips, nacho cheese dip, honey roasted peanuts, another package of cookies.
I'm eating my feelings. I only need milk, paper towels, and shampoo, but my carriage is quickly filling with things I can stuff my face with as I try to stuff the pain down deep.
This is ridiculous.
I pick through the carriage and start putting some of the stuff back. I don't need all this junk food to just make me feel worse.
From the corner of my eye, I see a familiar shadow as it moves down the aisle. Flicking my head up, whoever it was, is gone. Feeling satisfied with the stuff in my cart, I round the corner and come to a stop.