her mental state has declined, guilt finds me, making me feel like I’m never going to be enough to help her and Parker as much as they need.
Not even twenty-four hours have passed since Abby mentioned the name, Dylan Stevens, and I’ve already located him at the Slug Shack right down the street from the base. Abby isn’t the only one with detective skills. She might have better sleuthing capabilities than I do, but I know more people than she does, and everyone knows someone who knows the person of interest. It wasn’t hard to locate the shithead. I even have a photo to make spotting him easier, but locating him in a nearly empty bar at three in the afternoon isn’t as hard as one might think. There are only four other people here, and I’m one of them.
A drink is all I need to sit a few seats away and listen to Dylan Stevens try every pickup line in the book on the new bartender who’s only been working here two weeks. After his attempt to sweet talk the girl who is likely a decade younger than everyone in this bar, Dylan rambles on about a strip joint and the private VIP access he has. Evidently, the strip club is his hobby after work every day.
I try to envision myself buddying up to Dylan and convincing him to do the right thing for Abby and Parker, but after listening to the shit foaming from his mouth, there isn’t one part of me that could see this turning out well for anyone.
Abby was right to give up.
All I can do is offer to do more for her. I just don’t know what that is yet.
My phone buzzes on the bar-top, displaying Abby’s name. Guilt floods through me as I wonder if she somehow knows where I am, or what I’m doing, especially since she was against the idea of me hunting Dylan down. I fearfully check the text message, reading the two words I was dreading to see.
* * *
Abby: I’m up.
* * *
She’s being deployed.
I wasn’t expecting to accomplish anything last night other than helping Melody and Mrs. Quinn, but the few minutes Melody and I had alone felt like a time-out, a break in the storm. It was more than I was expecting and more than I should be experiencing. The feelings, the desire … all while knowing she’s going through hell. What I feel doesn’t matter, though, because I will not do a damn thing except help her or the family when needed. Plus, if there’s anything I’m a pro at, it’s putting my feelings aside, or shutting them off completely.
When Melody strolled into the shop early this morning, I was surprised to see her, especially since she was toting muffins in a fancy container. She said her mom sent them in as a thank you for helping last night. I know she plans to spend most of her day at the hospital with Harold, but she seems to be stalling by the way she’s pacing around, glancing at each shelf. Though, I’d love to think she’s stalling just to spend more time with me, if I was her, I might put off facing the cold reality of losing someone I love.
It’s Brody’s morning to carpool the girls to school, and he agreed to pick Parker up from The Barrel House so I could get started a bit earlier today. Brody makes a show upon entering through the front door, unfazed by Melody's existence even after going years without seeing her. It feels like no time has passed when he starts cracking jokes, and I’m embarrassed for my brother. Sadly, he wouldn’t care if I said that out loud, so I watch the show come and go and silently wait for him to leave.
I kiss Parker goodbye and send them on their way as quickly as possible with the hope of having a few quiet moments with Melody.
However, the moment we’re alone, I accept that the timing is not right. Despite knowing how much I would say to her if her life wasn’t splitting at the seams, it’s more important that I only provide coverage in her family’s shop. She needs to know she can trust me here and be where she needs to be. “I have everything under control here. I promise,” I say, watching her nibble on the tip of her thumb. She’s staring past me, lost in thought, just as she has been