Page 79 of Protected from Torment

Taking my attention from the road for a second, I glance over at Mel and ask, “They really were, weren’t they?”

She nods enthusiastically. The smile she’s been wearing since we got on the road this morning brightens even more. “This trip was such a great idea. I can’t remember the last time I went somewhere just for fun. Usually it’s to visit my parents, or to go up to Lake Placid…” Trailing off, Mel stares out the windshield at the narrow two-lane road stretching out ahead of us. “Not that I don’t like seeing my parents. But this is different.”

I notice she doesn’t say she enjoys visiting Vince’s family, and I can understand why. I’m sure they’re perfectly nice people, and from what Mel’s told me, they never held what happened at the fundraiser against her. But it has to be hard for her, staying in the house where Vince grew up, steps from his old bedroom, feeling obligated to comfort his parents while keeping her own struggles silent.

Not that I don’t stay in touch with Kaia’s mom—her dad passed away several years ago—but it’s different. We live on opposite sides of the country, for one. And Kaia’s mother isn’t interested in having me visit. We’re on decent terms, and I call her twice a year, on Kaia’s birthday and the day she passed away, but she’s never suggested more than that, and neither have I.

Now that I know how hard the visits are for Mel, I really don’t like the idea of her going to Lake Placid alone. Driving those winding roads by herself, feeling anxious and stressed, with no one there to support her…

Shit. I don’t just dislike the idea. I hate it. And I’d feel a heck of a lot better if I went with her.

Would Mel let me come with her? Or would she feel weird about it?

And if I did go with Mel, would I be meeting her in New York for the trip? Or would we be flying out from the West Coast together?

As they have more and more often over the last few weeks, I find myself thinking about the future. Not just my future, but one with Mel.

We haven’t talked about the future aside from short-term plans like where to have dinner on Saturday night or an upcoming bowling tournament with the team. We talk about what we want to make for dinner the following evening, or a new series we want to watch that’s starting soon. But when it comes to the long term? Neither of us has brought it up. And I have no immediate plans to do so.

Maybe it’s a classic case of the ostrich sticking its head in the sand. But I like Melissa being here, and I’m not eager for her to leave.

Actually, that’s a massive understatement. I don’t want Melissa to leave, full stop. Not in a week, or a month, or… shit. She could stay indefinitely, and I think I’d be okay with it.

I wasn’t expecting to feel like this when I asked Melissa to stay here. If anything, I was a little worried that having someone else living with me—a woman, especially—would make me feel claustrophobic, or that it would trigger old memories. But neither happened. Not even close to it. Instead, Melissa fit into my life like she’d always been there.

Does that mean I still don't love Kaia? Of course not. She was the first woman I fell in love with. When we exchanged our vows, I meant them. When I imagined growing old, she was supposed to be by my side.

But something I’ve learned with Melissa is that love isn’t finite. Just because I loved Kaia doesn’t mean I don’t have room in my heart for Mel, too. I can love both of them in their own ways—Kaia as my first love, and Mel as the woman who showed me it’s possible to love again.

“Anyway,” Mel continues, “I’m really glad you suggested this.” She looks over her shoulder at the back seat. “And I bet Oscar will be happy, too. He’s going to love the Bigfoot toy we got him.”

I glance in the rearview mirror at the two stuffed Bigfoots sitting beside each other on the backseat. The one intended for Oscar is larger than the other, and has stitched eyes instead of the button ones on the one Melissa’s keeping for herself. “We’ll have to swing by the pet store on the way home for some treats, though. Since we didn’t find any earlier.”

Melissa rests her hand on my thigh. “He has plenty of treats. We don’t need to buy him more. He’s not going to remember what we said this morning about them.”

“But I promised,” I insist. And yes, I know she’s right. Oscar’s not going to remember that I mentioned treats before we left. But I will. “I just want to bring him something special, is all.”

“Ty.” She leans over the console to kiss my cheek. “You really love Oscar, don’t you?”

“How could I not?” I reply. “He’s a great dog. I know he’s not mine, but⁠—”

“That doesn’t matter,” Melissa interrupts. “Dogs don’t care about stuff like that.” She kisses me again. “And neither do I.”

I reach over to cover her hand with mine. “Have I told you how amazing you are lately?”

Pleasure pinks her cheeks. “You’re amazing, too.”

We fall into a comfortable silence after that, allowing the soft melody of the folk music playing on the radio to fill the car.

The word love weighs heavy on my mind, just as it has more and more often over the last few weeks.

I haven’t said anything to Melissa yet, but I don’t think I’m falling anymore. I think I’m already there.

Why haven’t I told her? I’m not sure. Caution? Uncertainty? Fear? I know I don’t want her to leave, but when it comes to saying those three words, something’s holding me back. Which is stupid, because I didn’t have any problem telling Mel I was falling for her. But actually saying I love you? There always seems to be a reason to wait.

Irritated with myself, I let out a small, exasperated sigh. I’ve jumped out of helos into enemy territory. Been on ops when we were outnumbered ten to one. I survived the explosion that cost me my leg, and somehow made it through the worst time of my life. But when it comes to expressing my feelings? Apparently, I’m a coward.

“Tyler,” Mel says after a minute or so. “I’ve been thinking. I really need to look for a job soon.”