Let Love Heal (The Love Series) (3 page)

After Mom and I have unloaded the car and set up my room, we grab some takeout for dinner and veg-out to some random television show. I can tell she’s dying to say something, but I also know that she can tell I’m avoiding talking to her.

After dinner, Mom cleans up. She’s always taking care of me and I just wish she would stop worrying about me. I can’t tell her that of course, but I just wish she would go on with her life. She doesn’t mingle in mine – I can’t complain about an overly-nosey parent like some people, but her not having her own life has made me feel incredibly guilty.

Glancing over to her at the sink, my heart warms. She’s standing there, washing a few dishes, humming happily. I know most little girls are completely enamored with their mothers. But there isn’t a word out there for the kind of love that I feel for my mom. She’s beautiful, genuinely caring – not at all in that “I’m your mother so I
have
to care” way. And oh, God, is she funny. Yes, she’s a complete dork sometimes and I will openly admit to rolling my eyes at her at least once daily, but there’s no hiding it; she’s my favorite person ever.

Feeling overly sentimental, I walk up behind her at the sink and wrap my arms around her still very narrow waist. She grabs the small dish towel from the counter and wipes her hands before turning around in my embrace and wrapping her arms around me.

“Hey, now. What’s all this about?” Her words are muffled by the mass of bright red hair piled atop my head against which she places her lips as she kisses me.

Still completely unwilling to open up to her, I just shrug my shoulders – a non-committal gesture. “Nothing, really. I guess I just got used to being around you over break. I’m going to miss you now that I’m back here.” I break the embrace and lean up against the pale blue kitchen counter – the one that she just wiped clean, repeatedly.

She’s folding the dish towel and looping it through the handle on the small stove as she says, “Oh, sweetie, I’ll miss you too.” Mom leans up against the counter opposite me and a sad look creeps across her face. “When you girls started school last semester, it was the first time in … well, in forever that I was really on my own. With Maddy moving out and you back here, it’s just me. It’s kind of weird.” She brushes a few stray strands of her hair out of her bright blue eyes, but I think it’s just an excuse to rub away the tears that are starting to form.

This is what I’m talking about. Even if I did want to talk to her about my problems, how can I even begin to unload on her when she’s dealing with her own world of crap?

“Oh, Mom. I wish …” She shushes me before I can even finish what I’m about to say, not that I really knew what I was going to say. I wish what? That I was still home with you? That Dad was still alive so you wouldn’t have to be alone? That Maddy was still here with me? That Bryan will forgive me? Too much to wish for if you ask me.

Mom just holds out her arms and I walk into them willingly. “There’s nothing to wish for, baby. Things are how they are, because that’s how they’re supposed to be. I’ll be just fine. Just have to get used to being alone, that’s all.” She plants a soft kiss on the top of my head again and holds me at arm’s length.

Brushing my unruly hair out of my face and cupping my cheeks, she stares at me through shimmering eyes and says, “I love you so much, Melanie. And I am so proud of you for the woman you’ve become. You’re doing so well here.” She glances around my empty suite, but I know she means off on my own at college when she says “here.”

My heart swells with love for her. I want her to be proud of me, but how can she be? She wouldn’t be if she knew everything.

A sinking nauseating feeling gathers in my stomach. I feel like I could vomit at the sound of her undeserved praise. Forcing down my own tears, the rising bile in my throat and the words I so desperately want to confess to her, I just smile brightly at her accolades and hug her tightly once more.

“Okay, so what else needs to get done around here?” Mom asks in a weak attempt to dismiss the current conversation. She’s scanning the suite, but honestly, everything is taken care of.

“I think I’m good, Mom. My room’s all set up and you just scrubbed every scrubbable surface in this place. Your job here is done.” I may be mocking her a little, but my appreciation still shines through.

Wiping her hands on her jeans, which are not “mom jeans” by the way, she scans the room once more before adding, “Okay, then I think I’ll hit the road now. Maddy and Reid are moving tomorrow and I don’t want that girl lifting anything.”

“Oh, please, Mom! Like Reid would let her anyway.” Mom just laughs at my arched eyebrow and sarcastic tone, but she knows Reid won’t let Maddy do a thing. It’ll drive Maddy crazy, but there’s no way on Earth that Reid’s girl is going to lift a finger.

Mom just chuckles a small laugh. “Yeah, you’re right, but I want to help them get settled too. You sure you’re not mad that I’m not staying the night?” We’ve been over this more than a few times, so I can’t help but sigh at her. I offered to stay home an extra day to help, but Maddy told me that I should come back to school a few days before everyone else and clear my head. And even though I may be beyond thrilled for Maddy and Reid, watching them move on with their lives just reminds me how twisted mine currently is.

“Yes, Mom.” Annoyance punctuates each word. “I told you I’ll be fine. The security desk is manned all night long and Cammie and Lia will be here Saturday. It’ll actually be nice to have the place to myself for a little while. Besides, I’ve got my
Sex and the City
marathon all lined up. There’s ice cream in the freezer and chips in the cabinet. What more could I want?”

I walk her toward the door as she slings her purse over her shoulder. Stopping in the doorway, she gives me one more hug and a sweet kiss on the cheek. “Alright, sweetie. Please call me if you need anything. I guess I’ll see you in a few weeks then.”

I nod in response, afraid to speak past the lump of emotion that’s swelling in my throat. One last kiss on the cheek, and a “Bye-bye, baby,” and she’s walking down the hall toward the stairs.

I can see her pull away as I watch from the living room window. I wave out to her and she blows a kiss up to me.

Unwilling to address my sorrow and sadness, I pop in a DVD and hope that Samantha, Carrie, Miranda and Charlotte will help break me out of this funk. And hell, if they can’t, I’m pretty sure the slew of hotties who chase after them will help lift my spirits. I drift off somewhere in the middle of a random encounter between Carrie and Mr. Big that alters the path of her life.

Coffee. Must. Have. Coffee. I’m practically dragging myself across campus to the little coffee shop inside of the student lounge after my eight a.m. Western Civilization class. Why on earth did I sign up for early classes? This will
not
be happening next semester.

After a few sips of my much-needed caffeine fix, I stand looking at the large corkboard that’s plastered with advertisements – looking for a new roommate, trying to sell a car, searching for Jesus. The roommate, I’ve got; the car, I don’t need. And Jesus? I’ll just leave well enough alone on that one.

Just as I’m about to walk away, a hot pink flyer advertising an opening in the computer lab catches my attention. I need to get a job. I know Mom will send me money and take care of me and all that, but I don’t want her to
have
to. I want to be somewhat self-sufficient and this job looks like the perfect way to do that. And a computer lab will be nice and quiet; I’ll be able to get some work done and I bet no one will even notice me. I can sit behind a desk and bask in anonymity while everyone else becomes engrossed in their own work.

Checking my watch, I realize I have less than an hour before my next class. That’s just enough time to walk over to the lab and introduce myself instead of calling the number on the flyer. Luckily, the lab is in the same building as my next class so I have to go that way anyway.

Perfect.

Since it’s the first week of classes and it’s only ten in the morning, the lab is completely empty. It’s quiet; all I hear is the humming and buzzing of the rows of computers and monitors. I walk toward the front of the room where I see a small office. There has to be someone here. Stepping up to the door and tapping on it lightly, I notice that there is someone crouched underneath the desk straightening out some wires and cords.

“Hello.” I call out timidly. I hear a thud, as what I assume is a head bumps into the underside of the desk. A male voice calls out “Crap” and I can’t help but giggle that I’ve surprised whoever is under there. He then says, “I’ll be right with you.”

“Okay, take your time. Sorry for interrupting. I’ll be waiting out in the lab.” I make my way back out to the main room and wait patiently for “under the desk mystery man” to meet me. And when he does, oh my dear sweet Lord of all things hot. I was fully expecting suspenders, a pocket protector, glasses, and plaid pants pulled up to his chest. I was expecting someone more along the lines of Sheldon Cooper from
The Big Bang Theory
, but what I got was Bradley Cooper from
The Hangover
.

That’s two very different Coopers.

My mouth goes dry and I’m suddenly struck dumb. As he walks to me, he wipes his hands on his faded and oh-so-soft looking jeans and then inspects them to make sure they’re clean. Standing before me, he extends his hand, and by some miraculous force, I’m able to put together, “Hi. I’m here to apply for the job.” My voice is squeaky as I wave the hot pink sign in between us. Shaking his hand causes sparks of electricity to course through my arm. “Wow. I just put that sign up this morning. I didn’t expect anyone to apply for a few days.” His voice is like velvet and it does funny things to my insides. When he releases my hand, it’s still hot from his touch.

“Let me go get some paperwork for you to fill out …” His sentence hangs in the air between us and I realize that I haven’t told him my name.

“Melanie. I’m Melanie Crane. It’s nice to meet you …”

“Bryan Mahoney.” And when he smiles at me as his name rolls off his tongue, I feel like a giddy school girl.

“Okay then, Melanie. Let me go get that paperwork and we’ll get the ball rolling.” He turns to walk away from me and my eyes are glued to his body. What the hell? A hot computer geek. You have got to be kidding me. This boy is seriously fine. Tall, lean and just plain beautiful. I should leave right now. I thought this would be a nice quiet job where I could go completely unnoticed, but there’s no way in hell I can work with him. He’s freaking hot and I’m, well, I’m not. I’ll be a bumbling fool the entire time I’m around him.

Just as I’m about to walk out the door, Bryan calls out to me. “Hey, Melanie! Where are you going?” Call me crazy, but there is a hint of desperation in his voice. With my hand hovering above the door knob, I inhale deeply and figure what the hell. I might as well go for it. The truth is he probably won’t even know I exist. Guys like him never notice girls like me anyway. I turn toward him and smile as I say, “No, I just have class in a few minutes. I wasn’t expecting to actually do an interview or anything. I don’t want to be late; that’s all.”

I flat out lie and just hope he doesn’t catch on.

His returning smile is blinding. Perfectly straight, white teeth flash before me, but what hits me in the gut is how his eyes smile along with his mouth. They crinkle in the corners and he shakes his head just a little. It looks like he’s laughing at me, but not in an “I’m making fun of you way.” Maybe he’s caught on, after all.

“Okay, so can you come back after class, Melanie?” The way my name sounds coming from his full lips makes my pulse skitter. For the first time ever, I feel noticed. This hot piece of man-cake is actually talking to me and looking at me and saying my name. And, call me crazy, but he’s not just being nice because I’m applying for this job. There’s something playful and flirty going on in his eyes, in his voice, in his body language.

I’m a terrible flirt – never had much practice with it, but standing here talking with Bryan has me all sorts of soft and mushy.

Oh, what the hell. I’ll give it a try. Isn’t that what college is about? Trying out new things and all that.

I bat my long lashes and reach for the papers that he’s brought out for me to complete. When my fingers graze over his, I leave them there for a second longer than I should. I could still be adjusting to the bright, fluorescent lighting, but I swear that his eyes just widened a bit at my touch.

“I’ll bring these back to you after class, Bryan.” I don’t mean for it, but my voice is pitched a bit lower than usual and has a sultry, feminine sound to it. It’s enough to make his eyes widen yet again.

Oh. My. God. It’s working. I’m flirting with him and it’s working. I actually have an effect on him.

He lets go of the papers and says, “Great. Then I’ll meet you here later.” Cue the smile and the sparkly eyes all over again. He’s just plain gorgeous.