Make Me Melt Read online

  Evernight Publishing ®

  www.evernightpublishing.com

  Copyright© 2014 Nicki Day

  ISBN: 978-1-77233-173-8

  Cover Artist: LMK Graphics

  Editor: JS Cook

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  DEDICATION

  This is for anyone who has ever loved and lost. Whether it be your first love, or your last, some loves are unforgettable.

  MAKE ME MELT

  Nicki Day

  Copyright © 2014

  Chapter One

  Vicky Browning rounded the bend of the desolate country road, which led to her hometown of Dove Creek, Colorado. The drive from Denver had been long and tiring. The heavy snow of the night before had packed down on the interstate causing traffic to move at a snail’s pace. It only got worse once she made it to the Eisenhower Tunnel. The normally two lanes of traffic had been reduced to one. Large trucks had lined the sides of the highway on either side of the tunnel as they waited for conditions to improve before continuing.

  She was thankful for her Dodge Durango. It was an earlier model and didn’t have as many bells and whistles as the newer luxury versions did, but it offered her comfort in knowing that it was reliable—and the four wheel drive had never failed her once in the harsh Colorado winters.

  As the mountains began to drift farther away in her rear-view mirror, Vicky wondered if she had really made the right choice in coming home for the holiday. Her mother had been hounding her relentlessly for weeks, to come and visit. Missing last month’s Thanksgiving dinner likely pushed her mother over the edge into full-fledged nagging mode. It didn’t matter that she’d claimed to have other plans. All that mattered to her was that her daughter hadn’t been home. Again.

  Maybe that was why she was so afraid to come back home after so many years away. Her mom had been worried about her ever since the divorce. No matter how much she’d insisted she was doing fine, her mother refused to give up the incessant questions on a daily basis.

  The odd thing of it was, she did feel okay. She hadn’t even cried during the breakup. The initial shock of hearing that Brian had been having an affair hadn’t even lasted very long. In a strange way, she didn’t even feel that surprised.

  Their flame had dwindled years earlier. They never made love, much less touched or offered a simple gesture such as a kiss. So when she heard that he had found someone else and wanted to marry the other woman, she couldn’t even muster the emotion of feeling sad. That in and of itself surprised her. Had she fallen out of love with Brian and didn’t even realize it? Their marriage had only lasted three years and she couldn’t even pinpoint what or when things had changed between them.

  On some level she felt guilty for not being a more attentive wife to Brian. The lack of touches and kisses in the night had not been one sided. She couldn’t help but feel responsible that he had strayed. Despite this guilt she never felt remorse. Having prided herself as always being the type of person who believes everything happens for a reason, she considered her failed marriage to be one of those things.

  The closer she got to Dove Creek the more she dreaded seeing her mom. She’d be fussing over her in no time. It was that constant pestering that had Vicky avoiding her mother’s calls every chance she got. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to talk to her mother. She loved her. It was just the constant worry and nagging that became too much for Vicky to contend with.

  As her thoughts drifted so did her tires. Suddenly her Durango skidded against the snow packed roads and began sliding off onto the shoulder. Clutching the wheel, she tried to remain calm while the vehicle slid towards the side of the road, narrowly missing a man walking there.

  Then just as quickly as it had begun, the moment was over. Her heart pounded as she slowed the Durango down to a stop in order to get her bearings. Her adrenaline raced through her veins as she glanced back at the man and then over at the ditch, which lay beyond the shoulder of the road.

  She took in a deep breath and waited a moment while trying to get her composure back. It certainly wouldn’t make for a very good Christmas if she ended up totaling her car. Especially since it was the one asset she had in her life since accepting a payoff from Brian for their house.

  After spending a few minutes by the side of the road, she placed the car in drive and slowly inched forward until she was certain she wouldn't hit another patch of ice.

  This time she took her drive much more cautiously. The town was only a few miles away now and the several hour road trip was nearing an end.

  She looked around at the foothills that were strewn along the landscape west of the Rocky Mountains. In Denver it had surprised her how few people even knew that Dove Creek existed. Then again, how many people ventured past the beautiful mountains to the area, which bordered Utah? Maybe that was partially why their population hadn’t managed to increase by much of anything in the last fifty years.

  The tall steeple of the only church now stood visible in the distance. It sat just on the outskirts of town as one of the tallest buildings in Dove Creek. The fact that she could see it at all, despite the light snowfall was promising. She hoped to not get stuck in Dove Creek any longer than the holidays. She knew from experience that a winter storm out here could leave you cut off from the larger towns for an exponential amount of time.

  As she continued on she finally met with that familiar and in some ways proverbial fork in the road. The symbolic red octagon sign offered more possibilities than merely deciding which direction to take.

  She slowed her car to a stop and took a look around at the miles of foothills and barren landscape that surrounded her small hometown. If she turned right, in a half hour she would be walking back into her mother’s home for the first time in thirteen years. If she went left, she could easily turn around and be back on the interstate in less than an hour.

  No matter how tired she felt, she couldn’t help but want to go left and drive the eight hours back home. True to her word and the promise she’d made her mother, she turned her steering wheel to the right and turned onto the main road, which led to town.

  Her hesitation was replaced with a smile as she neared East Street and saw the glimmer of Christmas lights twinkling even amidst the daylight hours. She stopped at the corner of Fourth Street and looked across the park to where the city tree stood proudly. For a moment she felt a twinge of nostalgia, remembering how exciting it had been to her as a little girl to watch the townspeople decorate that tree.

  She took a left onto Fourth Street and then turned right down Colorado Street. Now only minutes from her mother’s house she drove down the small two-lane road which led her though the north side of town. The fences were decorated with green foliage and holly berries, wreaths were hung on doors and trees sparkled through front windows.

  Taking in the beauty of the holiday decorations she couldn’t help but feel a sense of warmth. This town might be small, but it was filled with people who cared about one another. They looked out for another. It was the exact opposite of the type of environment she’d become accustomed to in the Mile High City.

  For the first time in weeks she wasn’t just coming back home. She was happy to be there. Though she’d forgotten, she really missed this place.

  Chapter Two

  Michael Barnett watched the Durango as it pulled away. In his younger and more
hot-headed days he probably would have shouted some expletives at the driver while giving them his long middle fingered salute. He’d grown up a bit since then. The Marines had seen to that. There was no room for attitudes in the Corps.

  He took the pack from his back and set it down on the cold snowy ground. Opening the front compartment he pulled out a bottle of water and took a healthy drink before replacing it. From as far as he could tell he was only a couple of miles from town.

  The small plane he’d chartered from Denver had arrived at the Dove Creek Airport an hour before. He’d made pretty good time since arriving back on his home turf, walking a good four miles plus toward town.

  He could have arranged a ride from someone at the airport, or even called his mother to pick him up. That would have ruined the surprise he’d been planning, though. As far as Gloria Barnett knew, her son was far away in the Kunar Province of Afghanistan. Little did she know that her youngest son had set boots back down on American soil five days earlier.

  His mom always hated to be left in the dark on any of her kids' plans, but with her nagging him the last three years to come home for Christmas, he thought it would be a nice surprise to pop in without her being any the wiser.

  After an eleven-month tour of duty, his unit had been called back to the States seven weeks early. The downside was that they would most likely be returning to the sandbox sooner rather than later.

  With his pack hunkered back over his shoulder, his trudged his way through the snow until he reached the main road. His family home – the only one he’d ever known – sat on the far edge of town. It was closest to the Rocky Mountain range, which sat just east of their small town, and their back yard had the best view for some of the early morning sunrises that swept over the mountain tops.

  As he walked along the main road he saw the Barnett homestead in the distance. Smoke poured out from the top of the chimney into the white winter sky. The image brought a small smile to his face as he recalled many winter afternoons similar to these. He and his brother would come home after spending most of their day building snow forts until they were nearly frozen. No matter how cold they were, their mother always made them a cup of hot cocoa, steaming hot and loaded with mini marshmallows.

  Oh, these hometown winters. Temperature wise they weren’t much different from the ones he experienced in The Stan, but there was something about a Colorado winter that seemed more beautiful than the average snow blanketed place. The mountains, their trees, even their wildlife all somehow managed to adapt to the harsh winters found on the western slope.

  As he reached the street sign that announced he was entering Dove Creek, Colorado – population 876, he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of nostalgia for the town he was always in a hurry to get out of in his younger days. Now that he was older at thirty one, he appreciated his upbringing. He might not have had a lot—in fact, some years his family scraped by. They had each other, though. That was more than most people did. He’d just been too young and stupid to realize it back then.

  Once he reached the front yard of his childhood home, he stopped for a moment and took in the modest two story building. The paint appeared to be flaking off in certain areas, an obvious side effect of the unforgiving Colorado climate. The evergreen tree that he’d helped his brother plant when he was in grade school now stood mature and full on the side of the garage.

  His old basketball hoop still hung above the garage, but the net was frayed, with more of it gone than what remained. One of the black painted shutters, which decorated either side of their windows, was missing from the living room.

  The home itself looked cozy, even though it was apparent to even the most casual observer that the place had not been kept up since his father passed away several years earlier.

  Four years had passed since his father died. Being the strong and dependable type who fought hard against his cancer, he always thought he’d live forever. Having Jack Barnett as a father had helped mold Michael into the man he’d become.

  He walked through the fresh snow of the front sidewalk and took the three steps up to the porch. He knocked once, waited and then rang the bell.

  The sweetest woman voice he’d ever known shouted to him from the other side of the door. “Just a minute.”

  He took his pack off of his back and set it down on the stoop just as his mother opened the door.

  Wiping her hands with a towel she began greeting her visitor. “Sorry about that. I’ve been bak—”She stopped in mid-sentence, opened the glass storm door and continued, “Michael? Oh my god!”

  “Hi, Mom,” he said. She hugged him tightly and nearly squeezed the air right out of him. “I missed you too, Mom.”

  Pulling away, she held her youngest son’s face in her hands. “Michael. I can’t believe you’re here. Why are you here?”

  “Surprise.”

  “Well, what a surprise indeed. You are a stinker, Michael Jack Barnett. Why didn’t you tell your mother you were coming to town? I would have picked you up at the airport.”

  “That would have ruined the surprise.” He smiled and kissed his mother on the cheek.

  “Now come inside and get out of the cold.”

  He stepped inside and stomped the snow off his boots. Then he removed his jacket and walked toward the fireplace. The living room looked the same as it had the last time he’d seen it. The same family photograph taken eons ago hung above the mantle. The shelves on either side of the stone fireplace wall were littered with family photos both old and very old.

  “You have some explaining to do, young man.” His mother told him. “Sit down and relax.”

  He sat on the couch next to his mother. She took his hands in hers and squeezed them. For being so small they were as strong and warm as he remembered. Even though her once fair skin no longer looked as smooth as it once did, she still was the most beautiful woman he had ever known.

  “So, how long have you been planning this little surprise?”

  “About two weeks. We found out we were heading out early. I could have called, but you’ve been bugging me to come home for Christmas so I figured I’d surprise you. Flew into Denver last night and chartered a small plane this morning.”

  “One heck of a surprise it was, too. I’d be mad at you if I wasn’t so happy. You always were the most mischievous of my boys.”

  “Hard to live up to the saint, Jack Jr. Speaking of Mister Perfect, where’s he at? I assume he’s making it here for the holidays as well?”

  “Oh, you know your brother: he wouldn’t miss the opportunity to eat some of my Christmas fixings. He should be here tomorrow.”

  “Perfect, I have a whole night to consider how I’d like to torment him.”

  “Oh, you stop. You be nice. He’s bringing a girl home with him this year.”

  “A girl, huh? Sounds serious, Ma. Have you approved this one? I know how you are about your boys,” he teased, knowing full well his mother only wanted the both of them happy and popping out grandbabies for her to spoil.

  “Oh, you stop. Her name is Kaylee and they’ve been dating for about six months now. He really seems to like her. So you behave.”

  “Ma? Me? I’m an angel. You know that.”

  She gave her son an amused look. “Mmm hmm. Sure you are. Now, do you want some hot cocoa? That must have been a cold walk from the airport. Hang on, wait right here. I can make some up real quick.”

  He grinned at his mom. At four feet eleven inches tall she was a little fireball of energy and a force to be reckoned with if anyone ever made her mad. But to him she was just Mom.

  “That sounds great, Mom. Thanks.”

  Chapter Three

  Vicky sat across the table from her mom while they ate a quiet dinner. She wasn’t sure why, but she felt so awkward being back home. Her mother had been nothing but welcoming to her since she’d arrived earlier that afternoon. Still, she couldn’t erase the feeling of being the odd man out on a dinner date.

  “Is your soup not okay?” Conn
ie Browning asked her daughter.

  “Huh? Oh, no. It’s fine, Mom. Sorry. I must be tired from traveling.”

  Connie set her spoon down and wiped her mouth with a napkin before returning it to her lap. “Sweetheart, are you okay?”

  “Yes, Mom.”

  “I know you keep saying that. But, I can’t shake the feeling that you’re not doing as well as you’d like me to think you are.”

  She cringed. The last thing she wanted to do was have this conversation for the umpteenth time. It was obvious that her mom was worried about her. It was all she talked about every time they spoke. The topic had long since gotten old.

  “Mom, please not tonight, okay?”

  “Honey, if not tonight then when? It’s not good for you to hold all of this in? I know you’re hurting over the divorce. But—”

  “That’s just it, Mom. I’m not hurting over the divorce. At all. I know you think I am. I know you think I should be. But I am not. And you constantly worrying and asking me twenty questions only makes me dread talking to you.”

  Connie sat there, staring at her daughter with her mouth hung open, apparently in shock from her daughter’s snappy retort.

  She sighed. “Look, Mom. I’m sorry, but I’m sick to death of talking about the divorce. Our marriage was over long before the divorce became final. I’ve moved on. Why can’t you let me move on?”

  Reaching across the table, Connie covered her daughter’s hand with her own. “Sweetie, I know you’ve always been strong. But I’ve been through a divorce. I know how devastating it can be.”

  And there it is.

  This conversation was the exact one that she had been dreading since the moment she agreed to come home to Dove Creek for Christmas.