My eyes scan the crinkled note lying atop my dashboard with the name and address of a complete stranger in every way—except for one.
Charlie’s true heart recipient.
Shaking myself back to reality, I turn off the car and force myself inside the house. The scent of Italian herbs and spices assaults my senses as I join my father in the entryway, causing my belly to churn with a new wave of nausea.
So much stress.
“You fall asleep out there, kiddo?” he chuckles, giving my shoulder a squeeze after I discard my purse.
His salt-and-pepper scruff has grown out from the last time I visited, matching the silvery streaks in his recent crew cut. Tall and distinguished, my father has always had an intimidating look about him, but on the inside, he’s nothing but softness and syrup—the sweetest man I know. I smile through my queasiness. “I was just thinking.”
“Thinkin’ about Ma’s cheesecake, I hope. It’s fresh out of the oven, blueberry and lemon.”
My nose crinkles at the thought of ingesting anything, but I nod agreeably, giving a small wave to my mother when we pass through the kitchen.
Looking up from the stovetop, she beams at my presence. “Melody, I didn’t know you were stopping by.”
For whatever reason, my eyes mist. “I wanted to see you guys,” I murmur back, my voice sounding thin and papery. “I’ve missed you.”
Dad wraps a hulky arm around me, tugging me to him. He places a kiss to my hair, quick and light, but the gesture triggers a torrent of emotions to flood me, and I collapse against his chest, unplanned. I feel the worry in his embrace, the unconditional love, and it only makes me cry harder. The course of the last two weeks ripples through me in waves and shudders, and before I know it, the three of us are huddled on the couch as I inhale quieting breaths and wait for my breakdown to ebb.
“Oh, Mellie… my little Jelly Belly,” Dad whispers along the top of my head, stroking a loving palm up and down my upper arm.
Mom laces her fingers with mine on my opposite side, and a semblance of peace finally settles into my bones.
Then, I purge the events of the last four-and-a-half months. Zephyr, Parker, e-mails, scars, love, confusion, kismet, and deceit. It all spews out of me, and they sit silently, patiently, absorbing my messy tale that the universe has thrown at me, leaving me windblown and breathless. I’m not sure what they’ll think of me or how they’ll react, and I don’t know what I’m even looking for—advice? Solace? Support?
My father squeezes me tighter. “My little girl fell in love again.”
I stiffen at his words, my heart thundering. Out of everything I just confessed, that was the takeaway. That was the salient point. Swallowing, I nod my head against the crook of his shoulder, burrowing deeper. “And now I don’t know what to do.”
“There’s only one thing you can do if you want to move forward,” Dad mutters gently. “You’re weighed down by self-made barriers. You’re still drowning in the past. You need to set yourself free.” He shifts on the couch, pulling me closer. “Mellie, you gotta dig deep. Locate what exactly is preventing you from getting past this. You say you feel deceived, lied to. But is it more than that? Is there a deep-seated part of you that is still clinging to… guilt? Guilt of finding love with someone else?”
Shivers track down my arms, and the notion steals my breath.
My mother’s voice pipes up. “It wasn’t the heart itself you were looking for, sweetheart… it was permission. Allowance to move forward and start anew. But that’s something only you can give yourself.”
I fall farther into my father’s embrace as I clench my mother’s hand, my lungs tightening with revelation. Is that the true source of my confliction?
An underlying sense of guilt for leaving Charlie behind for good?
If Parker truly had Charlie’s heart, it would have felt like a tiny consent. An authorization from the universe—from him. In a way, I’d have both men with me; Parker in my arms, while still holding Charlie in a loose grip.
When I discovered the truth, I was stripped of that ideality. And yes, it hurt that Parker lied, that he chose to hide instead of trust me with the truth, but maybe the real struggle is buried within myself. I’m forced to make a choice.
Remain in the past, or let go for good.
Dad sighs, his chest laboring beneath my tearstained cheek, and he whispers softly, “There’s only one thing left to do.”
“What’s that?” I croak out.
A heavy beat of silence hovers in the air, shimmering with possibility. With something attainable. With hope.
“It’s time to unchain Melody.”
There’s teasing in his tone, but his words trumpet through me, symphonies and stars. Fresh tears coat my eyes, but this time, it’s a breakthrough… not a burden.
Parker thought he had the wrong heart.
He hid the truth from me because he was afraid I would reject him once I discovered that he wasn’t carrying a piece of Charlie inside his chest.
He didn’t do it out of spite or malice; he did it out of fear.
Fear of losing me. Fear of losing himself and everything he’d cultivated.
Fear is a very human thing—a forgivable thing.
And I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that I didn’t fall in love with the wrong heart.
I fell in love with the right heart at the right time.
I fell in love with Parker Denison.
As my tears fade to strength, I’m filled with certitude—optimism. I can see the future dancing in front of my eyes, colors and songs, rebirth and bright lights.
Parker.
I also dance that night. While my mother hugs me tight and makes her way back into the kitchen, my father pulls out his old record player, dusting off a familiar casing and placing the disc over the spindle. When the needle touches vinyl, and the record starts to spin, the song bursts to life, and I’m transported back in time to this same living room as a young girl, over twenty years ago.
Giggles break through my happy tears as I step onto my father’s sock-covered feet with little grace, and he clasps my hand in his, holding me steady behind my back with his opposite arm. We laugh, we cry, and I heal, as Unchained Melody filters through my ears and fills my soul.
I’m still not sure what I came here for.
All I know is that I leave with exactly what I need.
Tires bite at the gravel as I slow to a stop, rubber against rock. The dark sky twinkles with a sea of stars and milky moonlight, and I can’t help but smile as I turn off the engine.
Reaching forward, I pluck the little piece of paper off my dashboard, dusting my thumb over Parker’s handwriting, then I heave in a deep sigh and slide the note into my front pocket.
The air is humid when I step from the car, hitting me like a brick wall. It takes a moment to find my breath, but less because of the sticky late-August night, and more because of what I’m about to do.
My feet carry me forward as jitters scatter along my skin and mosquitoes buzz into my ear, and when I come to a stop at my destination, I sift through my pocket for that note.
Zachary Adler on Melbourne Street.
Parker thought I wanted this. He thought I wanted this faceless man with Charlie’s heart, and he thought I wanted it more than I wanted him.