A Rocker's Melody (Dust and Bones)(29)

That got her to smile, and his heart beat faster against his rib cage  when he saw it. Her smiles made him feel like he'd done something right  for once, like he had the power to give her everything she needed. It  gave him hope that maybe, just maybe, he had a chance of keeping her;  like maybe things would turn out all right in the end.

She felt him hardening and began moving against him, already hungry for  more. Dylan leaned into her, kissing her neck and her shoulder, tracing  his hands down her arm, over her hips, and-

They were rudely interrupted when his phone rang. Loath though he was to  pull himself away from Melody, he glanced over at it. The caller I.D.  said it was Grace. Grace calling in the middle of the night.

Emma.





9


It's bad, D.

If the use of Dylan's childhood nickname hadn't been enough to indicate  how serious Grace's words were, the tears in her voice would have done  the trick.

"She was crying," he said to Melody, as Big Mike drove them to the airport.

"That makes sense, right?" Melody squeezed his hand, trying to keep him present with her.

He shook his head. "Grace doesn't cry. If she does, it means she's got  something to cry about. If Emma was going to be fine, she wouldn't … " He  trailed off. The look on Melody's face told him she understood why he  was worried-her expression was full of pain and sympathy. He wanted to  lose himself in those big, emerald eyes of hers, so he wouldn't have to  suffer in this awful moment.

It was a short flight to Dallas. They'd been planning to drop in on Emma  after their Texas concerts anyway, so they had budgeted some extra time  between shows. The guys had offered to fly out, too, as had been the  original plan, but Dylan had instructed them to go on ahead to the next  venue. He felt like if they accompanied him to say their goodbyes, it  would be like admitting Emma wasn't going to make it.

That superstition hadn't stopped him from clutching Melody to his side  and practically begging her to join him, though. Not that she had needed  prompting; as soon as Grace's midnight call had broken the quiet,  intimate space between them, she had begun making arrangements for two.  She was so thoughtful, so selfless, so...effortlessly good. He knew he  didn't deserve someone like her, but maybe, if he played all his cards  right, he would have a chance at keeping her.         

     



 

He prayed it would be so. He didn't think he could survive it if he lost her, too.

They reached the airport without incident. Dylan thanked Big Mike, who  solemnly grasped his hand in parting-a silent wish for the impossible,  for Emma's recovery. Then Dylan and Melody entered the terminal together  and headed to their gate.

Dylan spoke to Jesper on the phone before they took off. His oldest  friend told him to take all the time he needed, while at the same time  gently reminding him that he had three days to make it back to their  next gig. Dylan assured him that both he and Melody would be there,  though his mind wandered and fixated on the most awful scenarios...what  if something happened, and he wasn't able to make it to the next gig?  How could he possibly manage to perform in three days' time if Emma...if  she...?

No. Mustn't think about that.

The plane touched down in Dallas a little after nine in the morning.  They exited the terminal and were picked up by a private car that Melody  had reserved for them. Dylan had no idea how she had managed to make  all their travel arrangements so quickly-in the middle of the night, no  less, and coming off a terrible case of food poisoning. She was stronger  than he would ever be, and he reflected again on how lucky he was to  have her by his side as they drove to the hospital.

They reached the huge, imposing building and entered. A nurse gave them  directions to the children's ward, and they set off, walking down the  sterile hallway hand in hand, like prisoners headed to an execution. If  we never get there, she'll always be alive, he thought, hanging onto  that crazy notion even though he knew, in the back of his mind, that it  made no sense.

They reached the room, and Dylan almost wasn't sure he would be able to  take those last few steps...but Melody, still holding onto him, pulled  him over the threshold of the door. And then he was inside.

"Uncle D."

He blinked in shock; his eyes had to be playing tricks on him. He looked  to Melody for confirmation, but she was smiling cautiously. She nudged  him to get him moving. "Go on," she whispered.

He took a couple unsteady steps forward. Grace stood to the side of the  hospital bed, a tight but welcoming smile on her face. His sister looked  exhausted, and guilt stabbed at him. This was his family-the only  worthwhile family he had-and for the last few years he hadn't been there  for them. He'd been too busy drowning in his own bullshit. Sure, he  played the part of the doting uncle when he could, but with Emma's  father gone, she didn't need a doting uncle; she needed a father, and  Grace needed someone she could lean on.

Finally, he mustered up the courage to look at Emma, really look at her.  The smile on her face was weak, but excited. Her skin was sallow, and  her cheeks were gaunt. Her hair was limp, the dark curls hanging  listlessly around her head. When had her hair gotten so dark?

But none of that mattered. She was alive. She looked sick, sure, but  that was because she was sick. However, she wasn't near death, as he'd  feared after Grace's phone call. Why the hell had she scared him half  out of his mind like that?

"Emma Bear," he said, leaning over her bed to place a big, loud kiss on  her cheek, delighting in the tiny giggle that left her mouth.

"You're so silly," she declared. "Cool dude handshake?"

"Cool dude handshake," Dylan agreed easily. They bumped fists, tapped  wrists, pinkie swore, and then shook hands. The complicated greeting was  something he'd taught Emma years ago during another hospital stay, and  had become a little ritual of theirs.

Emma grinned up at him for a moment before her expression turned to a pout. "Mommy says we can't go to Six Flags with you."

Dylan brushed the hair away from her perfect little face. "Not this  week, but we'll go soon, I promise. Maybe for your next birthday. Ten is  a very big year." He glanced back at his sister. Her lips were pulled  into that tight smile again.

Grace was a beautiful woman, and she'd always been strong. They'd both  inherited their father's coloring and their mother's ability to bottle  up all emotion. But now, Grace looked like a breeze might knock her  over; she was frail and tired. He had never seen her this bad.

"Hey, you gonna introduce me, or what?" Melody asked, joining him at the side of Emma's bed.

"Of course," he said, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. "Melody,  this is my favorite girl in the whole wide world, Emma. Emma, this is  Melody, my second favorite girl in the whole wide world."

"Second," Melody said, holding a hand to her heart and smiling. "I'm honored."         

     



 

"Don't feel bad. I've been first forever," Emma confided.

"As well you should be. I'm pleased to meet you, Miss Emma." She held  out her hand to Emma. After a quick glance at her mother, who nodded,  Emma gave Melody a delicate handshake. "Guess what?" Melody continued.  "I brought you a present."

Emma's eyes lit up. "A present?"

"Yeah, well, I kinda wanted to make sure you liked me," Melody confessed. "I'm not above a bit of bribery."

Emma giggled again, and then gasped as Melody pulled a little lanyard-making kit out of her huge purse.

"Where did that come from?" Dylan asked. She hadn't stopped at a store  on their way here or in either airport terminal, not that he had  noticed.

She shrugged. "We were going to hang out tomorrow anyway. I come prepared to play."

"What is it?" Emma asked, watching in fascination as Melody started unpacking the lanyard supplies.

"It's a weaving kit," Melody explained. "We can make little charm bracelets or necklaces in all sorts of colors and patterns."

"Can we make one for Mommy?" Emma asked. Her legs bounced up and down in  her excitement, Dylan noticed with some excitement of his own. She was  really feeling better. "And Uncle D, too?" she added.

"We sure can," Melody promised. "Here, let's pick colors for Mommy's bracelet first."

Dylan felt someone put a hand on his shoulder. He turned to see his  sister. Grace was there, staring down at him. From this close, he could  see through the carefully composed mask she had put in place; she was  more tired, scared, and frustrated than she was letting on. She looked  like their mother.

"You guys think you can get along without us for a minute?" Grace asked  Emma and Melody. The words were casual, but she spoke in a stilted  manner, as if she had forgotten how regular conversation worked, and was  doing her best to remember.

"Emma and I are all good," Melody assured them, meeting Dylan's gaze for  a moment. Her expression was meant to be reassuring, but he caught a  glimpse of wariness in her eyes. "You two go catch up."