Bourbon Nights - Shari J. Ryan Page 0,30

before I can blink again, and I’m standing here with three gawking mouths and six wide eyes, likely wondering why Melody ran out the door as if she were on fire. “She’s not taking this very well,” Mrs. Quinn says. “Plus, she can hardly breathe when you’re around, but don’t tell her I said that.”

Oh God.

“Mom,” Journey scolds her. “It’s been ten years. Relax.”

Ten years and nothing has changed.

“I remember Harold telling me about your daughter now, how you’re raising her all alone. You’re a wonderful man, Brett. You truly are. No wonder your mother is so proud of you. We just spoke for the first time in years and I can’t seem to recall the reason we ever stopped speaking.” Mrs. Quinn looks lost as she speaks, almost as if she doesn’t know what she’s saying, or she’s just filling the silence with whatever thoughts come to her mind.

“Life happens, but I’m sure you two have time to catch up,” I say, trying to find a way to ease my way out of this room.

“Of course,” Mrs. Quinn says.

“Oh, Brett, Melody is going to need a ride. I gave her the wrong keys. Oops.” I look over at Journey in time to catch a wink and grin, the same wink and grin she used to give me every time Melody ran away from me when we were teenagers.

“Do you want me to give her the correct keys?” I offer.

“Nope,” Journey says. “Thanks for helping with the dog and Melody. Have a good night.”

It’s all coming back to me—the dynamics of this family. Journey and Harold are one of a kind and Melody and Mrs. Quinn share their traits. They were always comedic with the way they carried on.

“I’ll go rescue her from the parking lot, I guess,” I say, pressing my lips together. “I hope you feel better, Harold. Mrs. Quinn, please let me know if there’s anything else I can do to help.”

“Thank you, Brett. You’re too kind.”

With that, I take my opportunity to leave and hurry down the hallway toward the elevator with hope of catching up with Melody before she’s roaming through a dark parking lot trying to unlock a car without a proper key.

I turn the corner, finding the elevator doors closing. I slip my hand between the doors, triggering the motion detector. As the doors reopen, Melody comes into view, standing in the left corner of the elevator holding her arms tightly around her body. Her beautiful eyes are screaming for help, but her lips are clamped shut, firmly holding in the sob heaving through her chest.

10

The elevator seals us inside the confining walls. I have my gaze locked on Melody’s face, but she is staring past me toward the metal doors. “I’m sorry if I overstepped my bounds. I figured you were hungry. I know hospital food isn’t great.”

Melody’s eyes dance around as if she’s searching for another place to focus on aside from me, but the elevator isn’t moving fast enough to give her the opportunity to avoid me either. “You didn’t overstep,” she says, finally locking eyes with mine. The light color of lime encircled with an olive contrast between the whites of her eyes and her dark lashes. Every look she gives me, is piercing and feels as though she has the power to control my thoughts and feelings with her stare. I can hardly recall the words I was about to speak.

“Thank you for thinking of us, Brett.”

Acting much like Melody, I’m forced to look away, feeling as though I’m falling into a daze I can’t snap out of. . I blink for a long second, remembering my thoughts. “I know this isn’t the best time to ask, but did I somehow make you angry? I wouldn’t want to be the source of added stress.”

I need to know. I can’t think of what I might have done to trigger her mood swings but they are all over the place and I don’t want to be the cause.

“Nope.”

Her answer does not add up to the truth, or at least that’s what I’m assuming. “Is it because I know my way around The Barrel House?”

“Nope.”

The doors could open at any second. I don’t know what the delay is, but I’m itching to break out of this confinement. “Are you just angry in general?” That’s it. The only other question I can come up with.

The doors finally open and grant us our freedom. Melody walks past me, speeding up to make a