Page 29 of Worth the Ruin
“I…” I don’t know what to say to that. I knew that Traeger wasn’t the sadistic, blood-thirsty dictator he likes to pretend heis, but I hadn’t realized that the people he hurts might…deserve it? That he’s strategic in the pain and fear he distributes. That he’s…I shake my head, not wanting to go too far down this line of thinking right now.
Abuela gives me a knowing smile and reaches for the basket, waving me off when I try to help again.
“I just needed a little break, I’ve got it now, mija. I’m glad to have met you and glad that you are here.” After another brief look to Traeger, she adds in a low voice, “Keep an open mind. Happiness is often found in the most unlikely of places.”
She winks and leaves me sitting in stunned silence with too many thoughts roiling in my head.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
TRAEGER
I’mninety-eight percent sure Melody has it all figured out. Hasmeall figured out. I think I have Wynn and Abuela to at least partially thank for it, but I know she was already halfway to the right conclusion on her own. She’s been looking at me differently these last couple of weeks. Less like a monster and more like a man…a man that she finds interesting. Maybe more than just interesting?
I have no idea if that’s really there or if I just want it to be, but she’s definitely changed the way she acts around me. It’s almost friendly. Or at least as close to friendly as she’ll allow herself to get with me for now. But I’ll fucking take it, because there’s an edge to the friendly, a dangerous undercurrent that I want to explore so fucking badly I have to constantly keep myself from crossing lines, from reaching out to touch her, to asking the questions I want to ask. The decision has to be hers. I’m the one who tore her away from her life, from the one person that she loves in this world. She has to be the one to decide if she can move past that or not.
But God I fucking hope she does. With her on the security team now, we’ve been spending a lot more time around each other and the connection is definitely becoming more defined with each day that passes.
About two weeks after she’d first been added to the team, I decided to take a very small step. Nothing big deal, just a small gesture to test the waters. I’d seen her eyeing my bookshelves that first night and I’d seen her with her nose in one more than once by the lake when she had downtime, so I figured why the fuck not? I picked one of my favorites and left it in her room. No explanation, no big pageantry about it, just a note on a scrap piece of paper tucked into the front.
“-T”
I half expected her to toss it out into the hallway, but she didn’t. A few days later she returned it. No thanks or discussion, just handed it back to me with a nod. So I did it again, and again, and now it’s our weird little thing. I leave her books, she returns them. I switch up the genres, feeling out her favorites. I would have killed to see her face when she found the romance novel waiting for her last week. I annotate my books, always have, and I was floored when Melody added her own notes to mine. It’s like a secret conversation between the two of us that no one else can touch. Without saying a word, we talk for hours through the books and the notes.
I haven’t had dinner alone with her again, partly because I don’t want chatter to start up when there’s nothing to chatter about—there’s already enough because of her being in the suite next to mine. Probably not my most rash decision, but I’d wanted her close. I can justify it all I want for a hundred different reasons, but in the end that’s the only reason:I wanted her close—and partly because I honestly don’t trust myself to be alonein my room with her without doing something really fucking stupid. But I’ve found myself at her table for dinner at The Skillet most nights. Every time our arms or thighs brush, it sends a jolt through my entire body. I feel like I’m a fucking teenager again, that rush of terrified excitement and anticipation when you start something with someone. Not that we’re starting anything, exactly, but…hell, maybe we are?
I spy Wynn and Melody strolling up to our little game of touch football this afternoon. I’m grabbing waters from a basket under one of the big oak trees and I don’t think she’s spotted me yet. I like watching her when she doesn’t know I am. Ok, that sounded really fucking creepy. I just mean that she still has a barrier that she keeps up around me. It’s a hell of a lot less substantial now than it was before, more like a stormdoor now instead of the bank vault door she had in place when she first got here, but it's still there. But when she’s around most everyone else, it falls away and I get glimpses of the real girl behind the wall.
Johnson beams, pointing to Wynn.
“Oh hell yes! Landry, get your ass over here! Dibs!” he calls, shoving his long, brown hair out of his face. Her lips curl into a soft smile, like she’s visiting some old memory. Probably a bittersweet one, but most of our memories are that way now. Remembering how life used to be when almost everyone from those times is gone, the world completely changed—it’s nice to think about it, but it hurts too. A few of us are lucky to have at least a small piece of the past with us still. Melody has Jonah and I have Doc, but most aren’t that fortunate.
I make my way towards them.
“Do you still got it?” she asks Landry, shooting him a challenging grin. He gives her a dry look and dusts his shoulder off.
“Watch and learn, cher. Watch and learn.”
She snorts while he flexes his arm muscles like a body builder and kisses his bicep, but then smacks him hard in the stomach, making him double over with a loudoof.I can admit that I’m envious of their easy camaraderie sometimes. I wish she could be that way with me.Maybe one day.
“Well, if you get Landry, we get Mel,” I drawl. She whirls, her eyes widening as her gaze skates downward. I’m on the Skins team and with the way she greedily lets her eyes travel slowly over my bare chest and stomach, I’d say she’s not mad about it. I let her look, liking her eyes on me. She swallows hard and, gaze dropping lower…lower still…
Landry clears his throat pointedly and laughs, making her yank her gaze back upward, well aware that she’d been caught. She meets my eyes and I quirk a brow, grinning. Surprisingly enough, she gives me a half smile that seems to saycan you blame me?
“Whatdya say? You game?” Landry asks her.
I look at her expectantly as I hand off the bottles of water to Jack to hand out to the others. She clears her throat quietly and her typical confident swagger settles over her again. The fact that I’d been able to fluster her enough for it to drop for a few seconds makes me want to beat my chest like a caveman. Sue me. She looks pointedly at all of us sans shirts.
“As much as I would love to run around topless on this fine afternoon, I’m pretty sure at least four of the men out here would have heart attacks and die at the sight.”
I chuckle low.
“You’re probably right about that.” I turn to call to Johnson, “We get Landry. You get Mel.”
The guys on the Shirts side cheer and she can’t hide her smile. Landry gives me a fist bump and then jogs over to start stretching and cutting up with the rest of the guys.
Mel watches him go, looking like she’s about to follow, but then she hesitates. I think I know the problem, why she always seems to hold herself back. I know for a fact that Renee has invited her to the socials but she always declines the invite. She thinks if she lets herself be happy here, it’s some sort of betrayal.
I lean in and say quietly, “Come on, Melody. You can let yourself have a little fun once in a while. We won’t tell anyone.” I try to keep the tone playful, but there’s a more serious undercurrent. I want her to know that she doesn’t need to feel guilty, that she’s allowed to find happiness in a shitty situation. It’s the best any of us can hope for. Hell, it was the best any of us could hope for even before the end of the world.
