Melt My Heart Read online

  "I'm very busy."

  "You're not busy right this moment."

  Dylan stood, and once she did, she wanted to pace. But then Skylar wouldn't have to be psychic to see that she was bothered by what she'd said, so she pretended to massage out a cramp in her calf muscle instead. "I am feeling a bit sleepy, though."

  "You can sleep later. Invite her here. Now."

  Dylan straightened. "No."

  "You want to see her, right?"

  The word no had been such a high percentage of Dylan's total utterances in the past three years that it had just come out. But she did want to see Laura. She wanted to see her smile when Dylan said something funny. She wanted to hear the ridiculous stories about Laura's fellow cast members on The Beautiful Ones in person. She wanted to see Aaron. He must have changed so much in two weeks. She pushed her hand through her hair and sighed. "Yeah, I do."

  "Well, go ahead. Invite her here. It should be quiet for the rest of the afternoon and you two will have a lot of privacy. You can go up to the loft."

  Dylan couldn't think of a reason to say no, but she clung to it anyway.

  Skylar reached out her hand, interrupting Dylan's spiraling thought pattern with a touch. "You deserve to do something that makes you happy."

  Skylar was right. Laura did make her smile, and it was kind of nice. What was the harm in having a bit more of that? It didn't mean anything. She pulled out her phone, and, before she could stop herself or regret her decision, typed a message.

  Are you busy? If not, do you want to meet me at The Snuggery?

  Almost immediately, Dylan could see Laura typing a message. She held her breath as she waited.

  Be there in 30.

  Laura sent along a pink heart emoji. Dylan blushed at the sight of it, that simple little heart. Did Laura know how it would affect her?

  "She likes you as more than a friend," Skylar said, once again reading her mind.

  "Me? Why would she like me?"

  Skylar reached out and covered Dylan's hand. Dylan's frantic heartbeat slowed a little under its warmth. "Dylan, you're amazing. Do not undersell yourself." Sky took her hand away. "Also, you're hot. And the way you looked at the regatta? I would have—"

  Dylan covered her ears. "Please don't continue."

  "But seriously. Are you blind? Did you miss the way she was looking at you? That was more than just a friendly stare. She practically made love to you with her eyes."

  Unfortunately, hands were not soundproof. Dylan squeezed her eyes shut as well, but that didn't stop the words from reaching her. Making love? No. That was not on the menu.

  "I'm going up to the loft," she said, keeping her hands in place as she walked away. "Let me know when she gets here."

  "Good idea," Skylar called after her. "Feel free to pre-undress while you're up there. I have a feeling Laura's the type of girl who wants to go right at it."

  Dylan tried to wipe the grin off her face as she approached the spiral staircase leading up to the library loft. She would not give Skylar the benefit of knowing she enjoyed that comment a little too much.

  Not because it was true, of course, but because Dylan found it funny.

  THE LIBRARY LOFT WAS Skylar's personal collection of the best lesbian fiction ever written. Books were crammed in along the vertical wall in a colorful array. There were the old classics like Tipping the Velvet, The Color Purple, and The Price of Salt, Radclyffe's entire collection, Gerri Hill, Robin Alexander, and books from newer lesbian writers. Every month a box arrived filled with more, and somehow Skylar found the space to cram them in.

  But that, as far as Dylan knew, was the first and last time Skylar ever touched the books. Skylar came up to the loft only to clean and rearrange the shelves. The bindings of the books were never cracked when Dylan selected one to read. When Dylan asked why, Skylar would call them her pantheon of lady lovers and change the subject. She was an odd one, that was sure. But she was happy to loan the space—and the books—to anyone who needed it. Dylan had needed it a lot in the last three years.

  Nestled in one of the huge beanbags, Dylan lost track of time reading Cara Malone's The Beginning of Everything. It might have been thirty minutes that passed, or three hours, and by the time she heard the bell ring downstairs and a familiar voice greet Skylar, she had successfully avoided thinking about that voice for quite some time.

  Now the thoughts came in a rush.

  Does she really like me more than a friend? It's impossible. But she has gone out of her way to talk to me, to do things with me. Do I even want something more? Am I capable of that any longer?

  That last thought lingered, echoing around her mind, until it shuddered to a stop at the sight of Laura. Her beauty stole Dylan's breath from her lungs. The sun hit her at just the right angle, making her flaxen hair look like pure gold and the freckles all over her face stand out. Her bright smile made her look ten years younger than she was. "It's so lovely to see you again," she said.

  Lovely to see you. That's what friends say to friends, right?

  As Laura wound her way up the stairs, Dylan tried to shut down these thoughts, but it was like she was playing whack-a-mole. Every time she smacked one down, another popped up. Laura reached the top of the stairs and the thoughts stopped, dropping dead.

  Dylan's body took over, starting to sweat in places she didn't know she could sweat. The space was too small for both of them. And there was only that one beanbag. Dylan still hadn't spoken and couldn't find a reply that didn't make her sound stupid.

  Laura gawked at the loft space, her eyes wide and her mouth open. "This is so cool. I wondered what was up here."

  "Heaven," Dylan managed to get out.

  "You're telling me. Wait. Are these all—"

  "Lesbians."

  "Excuse me?"

  Use full sentences, Dylan. Dylan cleared her throat, pulling at the collar to her shirt, regretting the fact that she'd decided to wear a button-down on this warm-ass day. "It's all lesbian fiction. Well, more precisely, books about women who love women. Some of them have bisexual characters too. I'm... lesbian."

  Dylan waited for a reaction to her revelation, but got nothing. Dylan hadn't told her about Katie yet, right? Maybe Laura knew just by looking at her that Dylan was a lesbian. I'm lesbian. She could smack herself in the head with how ridiculous she'd sounded. Just like her pen comment on the day Kell dragged her over to ask for money. Laura must think her a fool.

  On the other hand, the fact that Laura hadn't reacted was a good sign. Sexual orientation shouldn't matter for friendships. Not in good friendships, anyway.

  Laura simply squinted at the titles on the shelves. Her lips parted in a small smile and her finger ran along the bindings. She seemed different. Lighter in her movements. Then Dylan realized why.

  "Where's Aaron?" she asked. Aaron. He was a safe subject.

  "Oh, he was sleeping in his car seat, so I left him downstairs with Sky."

  "Sky?"

  Laura frowned, pulling herself away from the books, and set her gaze on Dylan. "Is that okay? She's responsible, right?"

  "Yeah, she's great. Well, I've never seen her with babies, but you'll be able to hear him if he wakes up."

  "She offered to take him without me suggesting anything."

  "Of course she did." Sky was meddling, Dylan could feel it, and she would tell her to stop once this was through. "You won't be able to see them from up here though. Do you want to go back downstairs?"

  "Honestly?" Laura raised her eyebrows.

  "Please."

  "Unless you want to go down, I would rather stay up here for a few minutes. It's the first time I've been away from him, and I could really use the uninterrupted adult company. Speaking of..."

  Laura plopped down on the inviting beanbag and rummaged in her shoulder bag. She pulled out a tiny individual bottle of wine. "I have a proposition for you."

  "Day drinking?" Dylan took the wine and settled on the oriental carpet next to her. "I'm in."

  Laur
a laughed and Dylan was struck again by how pretty she was when she did that. Laura twisted the tiny bottle of wine open and took a swig. "I was going to save that for a toast but whoo, I needed it. Quite a morning with blowouts and whining and naps all awry and..." Laura closed her eyes and pinned her lips together. "I forgot. Adult times. No babies. Listen."

  Laura reached over and touched Dylan's knee. Dylan's entire body became aware of that tiny point of contact and it took all her energy to keep her eyes on Laura's face rather than her fingers.

  "Yes?" she managed.

  "I was hoping you'd do me a favor."

  "Anything," Dylan said.

  Laura took her hand away. "Don't say yes before you hear me out. It could be a big ask. But it means a lot to me."

  "Of course. You can ask me anything."

  This was Dylan's wheelhouse. She loved helping other people, and to help people she liked, well that was even better. She straightened up, feeling more confident by the moment, shaking off whatever funkiness had arrived when Laura had appeared.

  "Okay. I told you I've been working on my own projects, right?

  "Yes." Dylan didn't tell her in case it was creepy, but she had tracked down two of Laura's documentary shorts on YouTube in the last couple weeks. The ones on drugs and lead in the water. They were relatively low budget, but there had been something special about them. Dylan enjoyed seeing Laura all serious like that, animated and straightforward—nothing like her over-dramatic soap character Charlotte on The Beautiful Ones. She would not admit to watching far too many episodes of that as well.

  "Well." Laura rubbed her hands over her face. "I'm supposed to pitch an idea to my agent so he can shop it around with the networks. But I've had no good ideas lately. They're all awful."

  "I can't imagine that. You're brilliant."

  Laura let out a sardonic laugh. "You're just about the only person in the world who thinks that. In fact, you're just about the only person who sees me as anything but a crazy, bitchy diva right now."

  "That's not true." How could this woman not think she was brilliant? It radiated from her. The fact that other people couldn't see it was both baffling and irritating to Dylan. "Show me who you are, and I'll believe you. You've shown me nothing but kindness, fun, intelligence, wit, caring."

  "And a bump on the head."

  "That was an accident."

  "You are seriously the sweetest person I've ever met." Laura nibbled on her lip, then the edge of her thumbnail. "And I'm afraid if I ask this of you, you'll just say yes to be nice."

  Dylan realized in that moment that Laura, center-stage Laura, was nervous. She immediately reached for something to say to make her feel more comfortable. "I won't. I promise. What do you want me to help you do? As long as it's not murder..."

  "No. No. Of course not. Though there are a couple paparazzi who I'd like to bake some murder cookies for, but—ugh. I'll just come right out and say it. I want to make a documentary about you."

  The silence that spread through the loft was so definite that Dylan could hear the ticking of her watch. So many thoughts went through her head. She hadn't expected this. What would Laura ask her? Would she find out about Katie? And what could Laura find so interesting about Dylan. "On me?"

  "Yes. I'm not sure what angle I'll take yet, but at the very least I'd love for you to talk about your career. The stories you've told me about the calls you take are fascinating and really give you a broad sense of the spectrum of human suffering. I think it could be the key for me."

  Oh, Dylan thought, you don't want to investigate me, you want to make a documentary about my job. Dylan calmed. There shouldn't be any problem with that. The town might like the promotion it would get from a documentary, especially since it would probably take place while they were transitioning to their new communications center space.

  Dylan had forgotten about the tiny bottle of Cabernet in her hand. She twisted off the top and took a swig. "Sure, I can do that. Let me check with my boss first, but I think she'd be fine with it."

  Laura closed her eyes and smiled, letting out a long gush of air. "I thought you were going to say no for a second there."

  "Nope."

  Laura leaned over and before Dylan could figure out what was happening, her torso smashed against Dylan's and she wrapped her arms around her neck. The smell of sweet apple blossoms washed over Dylan as Laura's golden hair flowed all around her. If Dylan turned her face just an inch, she could kiss her neck... and Dylan wanted to.

  Laura pulled away, and, keeping eye contact, detached a strand of hair from her lips. "I'm so happy we'll be working together."

  "Me too," Dylan whispered, her gaze jumping from hair to lips to eyes. Eyes, eyes, eyes, Dylan. Eyes.

  But Laura's eyes were worse than all her other parts. They held such intensity, such mystical beauty, that Dylan almost lost herself within them. The smile on Laura's lips faded, replaced by a searching gaze. They were only a foot apart. The tone shifted. May I?hung in the air, an unvoiced question.

  And Dylan, God bless her, didn't say no.

  Laura leaned forward, then yelped. She jumped up, brushing at her pants. Dylan looked down at her own hands to see the tiny bottle of Cabernet tilted and dripping.

  "Oh, my God, I am so sorry, let me." She stood, using the hem of her blouse to dab at Laura's thigh, trying to soak up the crimson stain from her white jeans.

  "It's okay. That's what I get for wearing white before Memorial Day. Dylan. Stop." Laura took Dylan's hand and pulled it away and when Dylan looked up, she was even closer.

  Dylan leaned forward, just an inch, and brushed her lips to Laura's.

  Laura pulled back.

  "I'm sorry," Dylan said. "I don't know what just got into me. I—"

  "Shut up." Laura's hands wrapped around Dylan's back and she pulled Dylan toward her, deepening the kiss. They came together like the snap of a rubber band. Mouths open. Hands searching.

  The cry of the baby brought them both back.

  Laura ripped herself away, as if she was doing something she shouldn't. She leaned down and picked up her bag, swinging it over her shoulder. "I need to go. I'll call you, okay?"

  Dylan didn't say anything. The taste of wine and Laura was still on her lips.

  In the next moment, a crushing guilt sent her back down into the beanbag.

  What did she think she was doing?

  All at once she felt like she was in the deep end and no longer knew how to swim.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  THE KISS BETWEEN THEM had surprised Laura, not because it had happened, but because it made her whole body vibrate. And she'd fled. She'd fled because she wasn't sure she knew what to do next. She fled because she didn't know if it was the right time for something like this, given the rumors following her around. She fled because... well... she really liked Dylan.

  She knew she liked her because the night after it happened, she stayed up, staring through the darkness, willing her phone to buzz or ring. She'd stared the next day, too. But as the days passed and her phone didn't make a sound, the anticipation turned to something else. Anger.

  What the hell did Dylan think she was doing? You didn't just kiss someone like that and not contact them afterward.

  Well, you haven't contacted her either. Maybe she's waiting, same as you.

  Laura's anger lulled for a moment. She texted Dylan and waited ten minutes, but heard nothing back. Then she called her, and the phone rang and rang. She left her a message saying she'd like to schedule a time for them to talk about the favor she'd asked of her.

  Still, Dylan didn't call back.

  The blooms of early May fell off the fruiting trees. It had been raining for most of the past week, and Laura had spent most of it inside. Cal had called once or twice, but she couldn't bring herself to answer the phone because, without Dylan's willingness, she still didn't have an idea. Maybe that was okay, she admitted on day six of her confinement with just her and the baby. Maybe she should take this time to rest and enj
oy being work-free for once in her life. Maybe she should just enjoy Aaron.

  By the time a week had passed with complete radio silence from Dylan, she decided she was done.

  It was the Saturday before Memorial Day. Laura and Aaron had been cooped up for so long that Laura had to look at her phone to see what day it was. The day before, the midwife had stopped by for her six-week check-up and gave Laura the okay for heavy lifting and sex, though she didn't plan on the latter any time soon. She was finally feeling close to normal again, physically, and she decided to celebrate six weeks and the nice weather by working on the garden. If she couldn't have sex, well, there was always heavy lifting.

  Laura packed up Aaron and drove down the mountain into Love Falls. She stopped at the local gardening store—Blooms and Shrooms—and loaded up the trunk of her car with annual flowers, pruning shears, and organic compost. She avoided any place that might remind her of Dylan, which wasn't hard since Blooms and Shrooms was on her side of the outskirts of town. She drove back up the mountain without seeing anyone she recognized.

  When she made it back to the cabin, she assessed the gardens around the building, trying to figure out where to start.

  They were in a sorry state. The lilacs near the corners of the building hadn't been pruned for years and were crowded with thick, old branches, shoots, and dead seed heads. The rhododendrons needed some serious attention as well. The garden was stuffed with layers of leaves and debris from the winter.

  While Aaron slept in his car seat nearby, she decided to tackle the lilacs, jabbing at them with the pruning shears quite brutally.

  This is better than therapy, she thought at one point, imagining Dylan's head every time she cut off the branch. Who does that? Who kisses someone then ghosts them? Who acts like a child after making a move like that?

  "What did that bush ever do to you?"

  Laura gasped, whirling around, the pruning shears open and ready to attack. But it was only Colleen, her neighbor. She wore a short-sleeve shirt and dirty jeans and a smile that could have won over a thousand hearts.