The Wrong Heart

by Jennifer Hartmann

To the fractured and broken: You are worth fixing.

“It’s fatal,” I decide. “Clearly. The infection is spreading already.” “Only a kiss can save me from a slow, painful death.” Charlie tsks me with his tongue. “You’ve been watching too many Disney movies,” he chides. “You can only be saved by a highly skilled sex machine, willing to ravish you with his ultra-healing weapon.” My husband’s ensuing eyebrow waggle has me holding back an unladylike snort. I gasp at his audacity. “Where on Earth will I find such a noble savior in a place like this?” Glancing around the restaurant for effect, I eyeball our waiter. “Geoffrey. He was very efficient in providing us with sustenance. He must be skilled in other areas.” “False. I caught Geoffrey flirting with the bus boy—he’s not the one,” Charlie assesses, then sighs with an overly dramatic breath. “However…” I straighten in my seat, intrigued. “Yes?” “There is someone willing to perform this harrowing task. He’s ridiculously good looking.” “Go on.” “He always remembers to put the toilet seat down.” I place both hands over my heart. “Impossible.” “He doesn’t snore. He never steals the covers. He cooks a mean goulash, enjoys doing the dishes, and has quite an impressive… weapon.” A wink follows, and I swoon. “I love goulash.” “We must act now. Time is running out.”

“You’re the sun, Melody March. The sun only knows how to shine.” Lord help me. Only this man could be equally proficient in computer analytics and spouting off glorious words like poetry. “I’m the sun, and you’re the sky.”

When I’m stressed, I bake. When I’m restless, I bake. When I’m on the verge of an emotional breakdown… I bake.

“All broken things can be fixed. The hard part is deciding that they’re worth fixing.”

“Who says I hate you?” “I got the impression you hated everyone.” His eyes flick over me like jade flames, drinking me in from toes to top as his jaw clenches, the tendons in his neck straining when he makes his way back up to my face. “Not you.”

All this time, I’ve been wrong about her. She’s not sunshine. She’s glittering nightfall, pale moonlight, silver stars in midnight skies. She’s that beacon of light when darkness threatens and consumes. No, she’s not the sun… Melody is the moon.

“So, believe me when I say you’re more than just an itch. You’re a fucking revolution.”

“I’m falling for you,” I breathe against her lips, almost grazing them. “But I don’t know how to fall without crashing and burning.” Melody makes a sound, a little gasp, her hands rising up to clasp my face again. She arches her body into me, whispering, “I’ll catch you.”

Once upon a time, the dark was my enemy—the place where I had never felt more alone. But not tonight. Tonight it’s where I’ve never felt more alive.

My stomach pitches when my eyes land on the drawing. It’s a sketch. Carved in pencil, shaded with color, brimming with detail. Looking back at me is a woman with straw blonde hair, irises spun green, and a smile as bright as the summer sun. It’s me. Quiet tears manifest into a heart-rending sob as I break down, falling sideways into Ms. Katherine’s welcoming arms. Parker’s starting point is me.

Melody March is my true starting point. My reason for finally wanting… more. And that’s something worth fucking fighting for.

“You’re mine,” I grit out, my heart thundering, my soul alight. “You’re what I’ve been waiting for. You’re what I’ve been searching for my whole life, and I didn’t even know it.” Her gasp only makes me hold her tighter, and I swear I see tears glinting back at me, ready to fall. “Melody… you’re my starting point. You’re my turning point.” Pulling her forehead against mine, a strangled sound escapes her, and I finish with conviction, “You’re the whole damn point.”

“Then I realized: I do fucking know you, Melody. I know the deep, important shit, like the way your eyes light up when you’re dancing in the freezing lake singing God-awful eighties songs, and that you cry when you hear violins play, and that your mom would make you peanut butter and banana sandwiches whenever you were sad, and all the little things that keep you waking up each morning, living and breathing. I know your starting points.” Tears trickle down my cheeks, pooling at my jaw, and I stare at him, dumbfounded. Star-struck and bewitched. Parker continues. “So, I built you this violin. It’s a little shoddy—not my best work because violins are kind of a bitch to hand carve, but… it plays.” Pausing, he reaches for his cell phone lying beside his right knee and scrolls his finger over the screen until a music app opens. His gaze connects with mine before he taps the song. “Dancing in the lake, the song, Unchained Melody, the sound of violins, peanut butter and banana sandwiches, August…” He waves his arm out, as if gesturing to the current month. “Sandwiches are in my bag.”

“Why am I the moon?” “You’re the guiding light in a dark sky,” Parker murmurs, his breath tickling the top of my head. “You shine strong when the rest of the world is asleep… when no one is even looking.” A strained gasp of impossible emotion is swallowed by his shirt. Muffled by his heartbeats. I almost choke on my own voice as I repeat raggedly, “I’m the moon.” I’m Charlie’s sun, and I’m Parker’s moon. I can be both. I’m an eclipse.

“Did you see the sunrise this morning?” Parker doesn’t waver as he nicks my neck with his teeth, then lifts his head until we’re face-to-face, still moving inside me. “I did,” he whispers back, finding my eyes in the dark. “But I don’t think I saw what you saw.” Inhaling a sharp breath, I lift up to kiss him, soft and brief. “What did you see?” We both groan at the same time when Parker angles his hips, hitting me just right, in that sensitive, tingly place. I feel myself unraveling. Swallowing, he continues to thrust, pushing my hair back from my forehead and holding me anchored. “I saw you,” he says, quiet but firm. “I see you in every sunrise. Beauty… promise.” He thrusts hard, and I shake and shiver. “A fresh start. A new beginning.” I whimper, hardly hanging on. “Parker…” “I love you, Melody.”

“You ruin me, Melody,” he murmurs, weaving his fingers through my wild hair. “You shatter my walls. You vaporize my darkness, overthrow my demons. You destroy every goddamn misaligned belief I’ve carried with me all my life.”

Home. They say that home is where the heart is… And I know I found them both when I found her.