and even rodeo clowns occasionally groping her while pretending to help her up, even after she was back on her feet. Melanie raised her chin with determination. I’ve never let spooked horses or drunk cowboys intimidate me. I can do this .
She looked up at the town house and searched for clues about the people who lived inside. It looked like an expensive home. Did that mean Todd’s family had money? Would that be a good or bad thing? Sh e’d dressed in simple jeans and a white cotton blouse. Part of her had been tempted to buy a new wardrobe for the trip, but she felt strong in her cowboy boots and denims.
This is who I am.
It was important to Melanie for Todd’s parents to see her for who she was. She was born country and would stay country. If they couldn’t accept her, they wouldn’t accept Jace for who he was, either.
And I’ll have my answer. I’ll know I was right to keep Jace away from them.
With strong, purposeful strides, Melanie walked to the door, rang the doorbell, and held her breath. She checked the time on her phone. Six o’c lock. Could they still be at work? She rang the doorbell again.
No answer. She leaned back and searched for movement in any of the windows. Nothing.
Melanie reached into the back pocket of her jeans and pulled out a small piece of paper with a phone number on it. She dialed it and closed her eyes as it rang once and then again.
Please answer.
“ You’ve reached Deborah and Ryan Jones. Sorry we missed you. If you’re listening to this recording, Ryan and I are still in Mykonos. You can reach us a t . . . ” The woman quickly said an international phone number.
Melanie sank to her knees on the welcome mat outside their door. They’re not here and they’re not going to be.
What the hell was I thinking? Oh my God, I wasted so much money coming here. So much time. I spent last night looking at the ceiling, trying to figure out what to say.
And they’re not even fucking here.
A man stopped and asked her if she was okay. She automatically answered that she was, then took a deep gulp of air.
None of this is fucking okay. Not me. Not this.
What do I do now?
She pushed herself off the ground, dug a pen and paper out of her purse, and called the number again. Once she had their international number written down, she buried her phone back in her purse and gave herself a mental shake.
She could still find Todd. There were eighty-seven age-appropriate Todd Jones listings in New York City’s online phone book, and if she had to call each one of them, she would.
Worst case, that was at most eighty-six times a guy wouldn’t know what she was talking about when she reminded him that she had slept with him in college.
No, I guess all eighty-seven not remembering me would be worse. Seriously, one of you slept with me. I just don’t know which one.
She sighed, wishing phone books had photos.
Melanie almost hailed a cab, but she was too wound up. A walk would do her good. Luckily, New York streets were numbered. That would make finding the way back to her hotel easy. She was only fifteen blocks away.
Despite her mood, she felt a faint rush of pride that she could already navigate the city. Sh e’d spent so much time hiding from the world that sh e’d begun to fear it. Those insecurities were falling away as she pushed herself outside her comfort zone.
As she walked, she took a paper from her pocket listing all of the Todd Joneses in Manhattan and studied it like there were answers in that long string of numbers. I haven’t failed. This is a delay, that’s all . Calling Todd’s parents in Greece would mean that the conversation wouldn’t happen the way sh e’d hoped, but maybe she was being foolish to think sh e’d see something in their eyes. Gain further insight from their body language.
Greece was about six or seven hours ahead, which would make it past midnight there. If they even answered, it wasn’t the best time to call. Sh e’d waited this long to
Learning to Kill: Stories