Wreck the Halls

It took every ounce of his self-control not to punch the motherfucker in the face. Don’t you dare talk about her. That’s what he wanted to say, but the vise around his neck was closing. This man had brought up Melody for a reason and Beat’s blood turned icy with dread.

“Congratulations. She’s head over heels for you, man. I bet she’d do just about anything for you,” Fletcher said, removing a pack of cigarettes from the inside pocket of his suit jacket, smacking it against the heel of his hand. “For instance, pay me to keep your big secret.”

A warning screeched in Beat’s head, the veins in his temples pounding painfully.

No, this had to be a nightmare. His mouth was too dry to speak, shock immobilizing him.

“Yeah, that lovestruck way she looks at you? I guarantee she’d protect you at all costs.” He winked at Beat. “Could mean double the payday for me.”

The rage finally exploded within Beat. “Leave her out of this. Or I will kill you.”

Fletcher made a tsking sound. “Your own father?”

Beat had informed this man he wasn’t his father a hundred times, so he didn’t bother wasting his breath now. His only focus in that moment was to protect Melody any way he could. Christ, he’d brought this man into her life. He’d been swallowing Fletcher’s poison for five years and by asking Melody to be part of the show, he’d served her the same toxic brew.

No. This couldn’t go a single step further.

“It’s all for the cameras,” Beat said, desperate. Fucking desperate to keep her out of this maniac’s line of fire. “Haven’t you heard of a scripted reality show? As soon as it’s over, I’ll probably never see her again.”

The lie set his throat on fire, made his stomach pitch with nausea.

Fletcher studied him through narrowed eyes, as if trying to decipher the truth.

Despite the turmoil wreaking havoc on his insides, Beat stared back unblinkingly.

“Sorry if you thought this was some magical love story, but it’s not. You’re welcome to try and pump her for cash, but she’ll tell you to go to hell,” Beat bluffed. “And then she’ll be able to leverage that secret. It’ll lose its power and become her bargaining chip if she wants to sell the story. And you know tell-all offers are going to roll in for her. This thing is huge.”

Beat took no satisfaction in the smugness leaking from his father’s expression.

“I know what I saw. You two are the real deal,” said the drummer, but it was easy to see he wasn’t as positive as before. No, he was second-guessing the whole angle.

Good.

Leave her alone.

Don’t you dare go near my girl.

Melody walked backstage with Joseph trailing behind her, filming, but one of the Today show producers beckoned to him. Joseph looked conflicted for a moment, as if deciding whether to speak to a colleague or continue filming. In the end, he switched off the camera and approached the other crew member with a handshake. Beat dug his fingernails into his palms, drawing blood to keep from reaching for Melody. Wrapping her in a bear hug, guarding her against this man’s evil. She held up the screen of her phone so Beat could see the selfie she’d taken with Hoda and he nodded stiffly.

“She wants me to teach her how to play bocce, too! We’re going to have a lady date after the holidays.” Melody reached for Beat’s hand with her free one, natural as breathing, and he forced himself to cross his arms, avoiding it, in what might have been the single worst moment of his life. Melody blinked at him, then at Fletcher, color appearing on her cheekbones.

He’d embarrassed her.

This was a living nightmare.

“Sorry,” she muttered. “Did I interrupt?”

“Nah, honey. We’re just shooting the shit,” Fletcher said, observing them in an almost reptilian manner. “You must have another big day of filming ahead. Where are you two jetting off to next?”

Melody lifted a shoulder. “We don’t really have any plans—”

“I need to work,” Beat cut in, the backstage area closing in around him. He had to numb himself. That was the only way he would get through this. Obviously Fletcher had been watching the live stream. The more time he spent observing Beat and Melody, the more positive he was going to be that they were really in love. And he would go after Melody. Being in a relationship with Beat was a liability to her. “Actually, I’m going to be working right up until Christmas Eve.”

“Oh,” Melody said after a few seconds. “Are we . . . giving up on Steel Birds?” She nodded at the drummer. “What if Fletcher’s offer changes something?”

Beat couldn’t even look at her. “Danielle will let me know if Trina comes around.” He gave her a flat smile. “If by some miracle, she agrees to the reunion, I’ll see you on Christmas Eve.”

He could feel the hurt he was exacting on Melody and his insides were deteriorating the longer he stood there. He had to get out of there now, before he caused any more damage. Without a word, he strode for the exit that let out into the hallway.

“Beat, wait,” Melody called after him, catching up with him right before he could walk out the door. Still within spitting distance of his blackmailer. Her potential blackmailer, too, now. Because of him. “Is . . . is something wrong? You’re acting weird.”

“It’s just my turn for a break, Melody. All right?”

She jerked back like he’d slapped her. “Is this because I said we were official on the air?” she asked. “You told the crowd outside of my apartment that we’d spent the night together and I think I just . . . assumed we were . . . you were my boyfriend. Should I have spoken to you about that first?”

“Yeah,” he rasped, hammering the final nail into his coffin. “Maybe you should have.”

It was for her own good.

This was to keep her safe.

Repeating those assurances to himself, over and over, was the only thing that kept him walking upright until the elevator doors closed behind him and he slid down the wall to the floor, head buried in his hands. “Melody.”





Chapter Twenty-Nine





December 22



Melody never expected to be grateful for the camera trailing five feet behind her on the sidewalk, but here she was. Without its presence, she probably would have stayed in bed for the entirety of the three days that followed Beat breaking up with her. Although he hadn’t technically broken up with her, because they’d never really been together in the first place, had they? Reconciling that fact with the aftermath of destruction in her chest wasn’t easy—they’d felt like boyfriend and girlfriend—but she didn’t really have a choice, did she?

A strong wind carried down the block lined with brownstones, whipping the ends of her white woolen scarf and tickling the newer, shorter fringe of her bangs. She’d cut them herself last night after watching two measly TikToks on the subject. They didn’t turn out terrible, but she wasn’t winning any prizes for precision, either. They only reached the center of her forehead, instead of her eyebrows, where she’d been aiming. There she was—a walking cliché. Break her heart and watch her desperately find a way to make matters worse.

Oh well.