Page 54 of Shatter

I hold the Barbie in my hand, but I'm not really sure what to do. I bounce the Barbie side to side on the ground like she's walking and make a high-pitched voice. "Hi. My name's Barbie. What's your name?"

"You're doing it wrong," the little girl announces, with the annoyance of a teenager.

Elijah smiles pityingly at me. "She has very specific rules," he leans over, whispering to me.

"She's supposed to teach me!"

Chapter twenty-eight

Melody

I'm pulled from a dead sleep by masculine shouting. Instantly, my heart is racing, and I shoot up out of bed, ready for fight-or-flight. Another shout has me moving, racing barefoot across the hallway and into Harrison's room, terrified something's happened to him.

He's in bed, the sheets twisted around his legs as he moans and shouts. His naked torso is exposed, and I'm stunned for a moment, his broad pecs, soft chest hair leading down his stomach and below the sheets. Each stomach muscle so defined I want to run my fingers through the valleys. But then I see the veins on his biceps and forearms as he fights some unseen demon.

He's having a nightmare.

He shouts again, and I jump, except it doesn't sound like Harrison. It's smaller sounding, weak, almost a yelp. It sounds like it's coming from a child.

I rush to his bedside and shake him gently. "Harrison, it's just a nightmare. Wake up." But he only thrashes under my touch.

Before I can think better of it, I lay my entire body against his, shoulder to stomach to hips, and wrap my arms around him, squeezing him tightly.

He stills. "Mel?" he croaks, his voice hoarse. Heavy arms wrap around me instantly as he breathes out a heavy sigh.

"Fuck." He groans and wipes a hand down his face. "I'm sorry. Did I wake you?"

I don't fucking care. "Are you alright?" I ask, my voice muffled with how hard my cheek is pressed against his chest. His skin has a light sheen of sweat on it, but it smells like him, and I can help but breathe him in like a greedy little dragon.

He stills, and I wonder if anyone's seen him like this. He doesn't do sleepovers with women. He doesn't even really get naked in front of women. Have his friends even seen the extent of his scars? Do they even know he has nightmares?

"They happen a couple times a month," he whispers his confession into the dark of the night, and I can hear it as much as feel the vibrations coming from his chest. "Usually just reliving that night..."

His hand runs up and down my back, but I don't know if he's comforting himself or me. Either way, it feels good; it feels right.

"Do you want to talk about it? Chris just said it was a house fire?"

I'm not sure he wants to relive something that's still giving him nightmares several decades later, but I also don't know if anyone's offered to listen.

"I was eight. Chris was sixteen. My parents went with Caroline to a softball tournament out of town, and Chris was supposed to be watching me. He snuck out of the house when I went to sleep to hook up with his girlfriend at the time." He goes quiet for a few long minutes, likely reliving that night. "I woke up coughing. The smoke was already so thick..." He pauses again, and I listen to his heartbeat; the air flowing into and out of his lungs.

And it dawns on me that I almost didn't get this. He could have died that night. He probably should have. And the world would never have gotten to know the incredible man beneath me. If I didn't have him, would I ever have gotten out from under Athena's thumb? Would I still be here? Living and breathing? Falling in love with the man in my arms? If I hadn't gone to him that night the paparazzi attacked me, I'm not sure I would've survived. I was planning on ending it. And now I'm surrounded by warmth and care and more love than I've ever known; from him, from his friends.

A tear escapes my eye and slides down my temple, but I make no attempt to wipe it away.

"I crawled out of my bedroom, but the stairs were already on fire. I'd never seen anything like it. It was everywhere." Another long pause. I don't want to hear it. I don't want to think about Harrison as a child, afraid and alone. But if he wants to tell me, I'll listen. I'll take it all for him. "I was starting to pass out by the time the firefighters got there, but I knew I needed to get down the stairs. I pushed through the fire and ran down the stairs, but it was too late. My pajamas caught fire..."

I close my eyes and let the tears fall. I cry for that little boy and the pain he must have endured. I cry for the months of surgeries and physical therapy he must have gone through.

I cry for the fact that I might not have gotten the chance to be with the man I'm currently falling in love with.

Chapter twenty-nine

Harrison

Iwake up to something tickling my nose. I swat it away, only to hit a body. I startle before looking down and seeing a head of honey-blonde hair on my chest. I sigh and let my head drop back onto the bed. I've never shared my bed with anyone else so I wasn't expecting it, but as my body wakes up more, and I feel a soft body pressed against my side, I decide I don't hate it. In fact, I think I want more of it. Do you think Melody would move into my room permanently?

I let my hand coast up and down her spine, marveling at the fact that I'm the lucky son-of-a-bitch who gets to do this. How many men has she been with? How many have gotten the privilege of waking up wrapped up in her? Not many, I'm assuming, since she's been publicly "fake dating" Parker since they were twenty. But then again, cheating has never turned off men before.