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“Any food you get to stab is good by me,” he replied.
Melinda laughed. “Get ready for your own excitement.” She grabbed a cleaver from the magnetic strip on the wall and held it aloft.
His eyes widened in a show of fear. “Is this how it ends?”
She laughed again. “It’s only fair. You gave me a gun, I’ll give you a knife. What do you think?”
His eyes crinkled deeply as he grinned at her.
“I think I’m liable to julienne my own finger, and you know it.”
“Hey, I’m just impressed you know that word. But if you could avoid making me drive you to the ER, I’d appreciate it. I don’t leave the house much these days.”
She stilled. Why had she said that? They had been having a nice, flirtatious time, doing the thing she loved most in the world. She hadn’t meant to say it and hadn’t meant it in the way that he would take it.
“I mean,” she began. “I didn’t mean...” Keep digging that hole.
Grant exhaled. “Melinda—No, Malina...” Grant couldn’t spit out a sentence either. “What do you want me to call you?”
She thought about it. “I’m fine with all of it,” she said finally. “Melinda, Malina, Lina. Everyone has a name for me that’s personal to them, so I guess you could just choose your favorite and stick with that.” She shrugged one shoulder. Not much help.
“Okay then,” he said, undaunted. “I’ll try Malina.” He smiled. “I like that one. It’s like Melinda, but it has a flair to it that reminds me of you. You’ve got a flair to you.” He reached for her hand and pressed her palm to his. His long fingers wove with hers, each touchpoint a caress.
“Malina.” He rolled her name around on his tongue. “Malina, I hate the reasons you feel the need to hide at home.” He closed his fingers around hers and lowered their joined hands between them. “And I hated not being with you every second after Paul and Melisa came for us. I wanted to be with you. I wanted to go with you.” Grant looked at their hands. Couldn’t he meet her eyes anymore?
“But I couldn’t force myself on you, not again, not after the way we met, not after what an ass I was. But I guessed that you were going it alone, and possibly, uh, uninterested in being around other people.” He squeezed her fingers. “And I’m endlessly sorry for that.” He pinched the bridge of his nose.
“I’m not going to ask for your forgiveness,” he continued. “It’s not my right, and it’s not my goal. My goal has just been to see you, to be with you in the same space, and offer you my shame and my regret. And to go away forever, if that’s what you want from me. Please. Tell me what you want from me.” He rubbed his jaw.
The rugged stubble was back, she noted, and her skin flushed at the memory of his rough face against hers.
“Dammit,” he startled her from her memory. “I meant to ask you what you wanted to say. And I went on a rant again. That’s why my dad gave me that nickname. Rant. Unfortunately, it fits.”
Melinda took a shaky breath. Familiar numbness stroked the edges of her awareness and she felt the pull to shut down and flee. But her family had been with her for two days and it had mended her soul. She felt free. Plus, Katrina’s benignly probing questions had spurred some deep realizations. Now Melinda felt the numbness approaching her, but she didn’t have to engage with it. She was ready for it, ready to allow it to move straight through her. Her mind was online. Her senses were alive, urging her to stay present.
“Grant,” she began. “I know you want to apologize to me for not believing me and for, well, kidnapping me. And that’s okay. You should apologize.” He smiled, like she’d wanted him to, but she saw the tension in his jaw, too.
“That was horrible. And horrifying.” She took another deep breath. “But I also need to apologize to you.”
Grant’s eyebrows slid upward.
“We went through something together...” Her fingers twisted her hair. Maybe she could comb out some vulnerability? “We connected. And you reached out to me. You wrote me.” She bit her lip. “And I just froze, I guess. Like I’ve done every other time I’ve been scared of getting too close to someone or something. That letter you wrote—”
Why wouldn’t the words come? She’d very nearly practiced what she wanted to say in the mirror. That letter changed me. Say it! “I’ve never received anything like it. I’ve never felt the way I did when I read it.” She watched his face. So far no sign that he was headed for the door. That was good, right?
“Meeting you changed my life, too.” Melinda referenced the words he’d penned her. “Not just because of the way it started. I think that’s the way we were destined to meet: in a way that would break us down so we could build back up again.” Her hair had to resemble a tumbleweed by now.
“I should speak for myself,” she said. “I think it was a way I needed to be met. I was so complacent in my life and with my cozy digital world, it took a battering ram to break it all down. You took on that role, cosmically. Or something. And you took it seriously, and you’ve taken me seriously. I don’t really know how to thank you for that.”
Grant’s jaw set a bit tighter.
“No,” she hurried to say. “I’m not giving you the brush-off. I’m trying to tell you that meeting you changed my life because...I’ve fallen for you. And I’ve never felt this before.” She was gaining momentum now. The words had finally come, and with them power and ownership. “I thought I had, and what I had was sweet, but it was small-time. Completely safe.”
Grant’s eyes widened but he held his tongue.
“This is an entirely different experience,” she went on. “I haven’t been able to leave my house because my family is here, and yes, because I’m a little overwhelmed by the thought of crowds, but also because I haven’t spoken with you or seen you. I’m a new person now, and you helped make that possible. I want to leave my house with you now. I want to return to my house with you now. I wanted to process it all with you because we went through that experience together and came out different people afterward. People who cared about each other.” Did he understand? “I thought I’d been hiding out, but actually, I’ve been waiting. For you.”
She had said it. She had said a lot. But was it enough? What would he think? What would he say? Her eyes searched his for a flicker of reciprocation. There was something. What was it? Why did he look...angry?
