Page 56 of Broken Melody
“I’m fine. It’s just…not a good day. I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to worry anyone.”
“Clearly something is wrong,” Britt says. “I’m going to go call in to work. I’m supposed to leave now, but I can try and reschedule my appointments.”
“No!” Sailor says firmly. “You will do no such thing. I said I’m fine. I’ll be better tomorrow, okay? I just…I just need today.” Britt looks at her unconvinced and Sailor adds, “Seriously, Britt, if I needed you, I swear I would tell you. You know that.”
“Britt,” I say getting her attention, “I’ve got this.” Standing from the bed, I grab my phone from my back pocket and send a group text to the guys telling them that Sailor is fine, but sick in bed and didn’t even realize what time it was. Then I kick off my shoes, and rip my shirt off over my head. Sailor and Britt’s eyes both widen in response and I almost laugh. “Wh-what are you doing?” Sailor asks.
Moving to the other side of the bed I look at Britt kindly, “Excuse me,” I say to her and she raises a brow at me, but moves without question. “Looks like we’re hanging out here,” I tell Sailor as I pull down the blanket and slide underneath then turn to face her.
“You do not have to do this,” Sailor says.
“I know,” I answer her with a smile.
“Well, it looks like things will be just fine here,” Britt says with a smile and starts to leave the room.
“Wait, Britt,” I call and she stops. I fish my phone out of my pocket and unlock it. “Can you add your phone number? I don’t have it and in case something like this comes up again, I’d like to be able to get hold of you. Is that okay?”
“Yes, definitely,” she says as she takes my phone and types in her number and a moment later hands it back. “I texted myself so I have your number too. No worries, I’ll only give it out to the highest bidder,” she says with a smile and a wink before she leaves the room.
“You know, she may be serious,” Sailor says. “I hope you don’t live to regret that.”
I smile, but focus on her, “What’s going on? Do you need or want to talk? You said you aren’t sick, but clearly something is going on. Can I help?”
I suppress a grimace as twin tears fall down her cheeks at my words, but she shakes her head. She opens her mouth to say something and then closes it again. “What?” I encourage and wipe one of the tears away from her cheek hating the fact that it’s there. “You can talk to me, I’m your lover now, remember?” I say making a joke hoping for a smile. The corner of her mouth trembles, but that’s all I get. “I hope you know you can trust me. Well, hell, maybe you don’t. But, I’m telling you that you can.” I’m rambling but can’t seem to stop. I just want to make her feel better.
She pulls the covers back over her head and this time it encompasses me too. Her folded hands are under her chin and her eyes are on mine. I wonder if the act of hiding under the covers makes her feel comfort, as if it’s safe and nothing can touch her in here. “Have you ever had a secret that you’ve kept tight in your heart for so long that just the thought of telling someone, of actually speaking it out loud, is painful?” Her question comes out a whisper as if revealing just that much is painful.
Another tear falls from her eye and she swipes at it with a Kleenex. My heart aches in my chest and I rub my hand there as if I can soothe it, but I can’t. Most importantly, I don’t know how to soothe her ache. “I may know a little bit of what that feels like,” I whisper back.
“I’m not sick physically, Maddox. I’m…I’m heart sick today. And I’m not sure I can talk about it.”
“That’s okay. You don’t have to. How about we focus on something else? We start slow, and if you want to talk, you can – no pressure – and if you don’t, you don’t.”
“Okay,” she says, “but what do you mean by ‘start slow’?”
“Remember our game at the club, Never Have I Ever?” I ask and she nods her head. “How about we do the opposite. Tell me things about you that are true. It can be small, or big. Then I’ll do the same. We’ll go back and forth, until we don’t want to talk anymore.”
“Alright,” she says softly. “You go first.”
“Spiders creep me out,” I reveal. “I know I shouldn’t admit that and be manly or whatever, but no. Sorry to tell you if one was here right now, you’d be on your own in a second. The fuckers are freaky,” I shudder at the thought and she giggles a little, my heart lightening at the sound. “I mean, they have eight eyes – why in thehelldo they need eight eyes? To better plan your murder with is the only thing I’ve ever been able to come up with.”
This gets me another giggle, “How does having eight eyes help you plan a murder better?” she asks.
“I don’t know, but I’m sure that has to be why.” I smile at the smile on her face. Turning toward her more, I mimic her posture. “Your turn.”
“I think most vegetables are disgusting. I imagine that when the devil has feasts in hell the whole table is full of vegetables from his garden. Little demon peas, stabby carrots, radish eyeballs, apocalypse broccoli – the list is endless.”
I laugh, I can’t help it. Her statement is so unexpected and she delivered it with such vindication it’s hard not to. “But you ate a salad once at dinner. And you had soup that if I recall had vegetables in it.” I remind her.
“I don’t mind lettuce but I pushed the other vegetables to the side, and the soup had potatoes and sausage in it which I like, so it was fine. Plus, I was nervous to eat in front of all of you and the prices on the menu were astronomical.”
“But we paid for dinner,” I tell her.
“So what? I was supposed to order lobster? I don’t think so.”
“I was a science nerd in school. Loved chemistry; it just came easily. If I hadn’t gone on to be a singer I think I would have liked to have been a crime scene investigator.”
“Wow, really? That kind of stuff wouldn’t have freaked you out? Like going to crime scenes and seeing dead bodies?”
