I am sooooo sorry it's been so long since I updated this! Please let me know if you're still reading it, because I'm kind of getting back on a roll with this one. To make up for keeping you in suspense for so long, here's a long chapter. And if you're lucky, you might get another chapter very soon! Reviews will make that happen for you, FYI.

-TEN-

Dean was as good as his word. He gave Melinda a job at the bar, and she was surprisingly good at it. The patrons loved her, began bringing in more customers, and soon, the bar became the place to be. Sam and Jess had even come by a few times, but things were still frosty between the four of them.

Melinda didn't drop out of school. She and Dean had a heart-to-heart about it one night. He swore that he wouldn't force her to do anything she didn't want to do, but he hated to think that all of the hard work she'd put into school would be going to waste. She continued to go to her classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays, continued to ace them, continued to ignore Jess if they passed in the hallway.

When January was coming to an end, Melinda had a Tuesday night off from the bar, which she was spending curled up on the couch with her old, tattered copy of Pride and Prejudice. She was lost in the world of Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy, blinking when the ringing of her phone brought her back to reality. She smiled when she heard the ringtone, AC/DC's Back in Black.

"Hello, Dean."
"Hey, babe. Look, I can't find my wallet. Do you see it anywhere up there?"
"Hang on."

Melinda unfolded herself from the couch and her warm blanket, setting the book aside. She held the phone to her ear as she glanced around the living room, hearing Dean hum Smoke on the Water while he, she imagined, was checking and re-checking to make sure the bar was stocked. She smiled when she looked at the kitchen table.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here?"
"You found it."
"One ratty, ol' beat-up wallet. You need a new one, dude."
"Yeah, whatever."

She could almost hear the smile on his face.

"Hey, you got any money in here?"

Melinda opened the wallet, Dean's laugh making her smile.

"So nosy."
"Can't help it. And how boring are you? Two dollars?"
"Times are hard, kid."

She smiled as she continued to snoop through the wallet, pulling out various cards and reading them.

"Nice Mastercard there, Mr. Aframian."

Dean let loose a laugh.

"Yeah, remind me to tell you about that some time."
"You have a library card from Mt. Pleasant, Michigan?"
"That was a long-ass summer, and Sammy was little."
"Uh-huh. A likely story."

Dean laughed again, and Melinda's eyes went soft when she pulled out an old, weathered photo of a beautiful blonde woman holding a little boy. She ran her fingers over it gently, then slid it back into its hiding place. She flipped the middle partition over, letting out a loud burst of laughter. She could barely speak through the giggles.

"Oh … my … God!"
"What?"
"Your … your driver's license!"

Dean let out a groan as Melinda plopped into one of the kitchen chairs, tears rolling down her face.

"Oh, come on, Mel."
"What happened? Were you drunk?"
"No."
"High?"
"Mel! I was twenty-four, all right? I was trying to be cute."
"Oh, you nailed it."
"That face is called the Blue Steel. Makes panties drop around the country."

Melinda laughed again, and Dean smiled, partly because that's what he was aiming for, and partly because he just loved the sound. Melinda ran her fingers over the little square of his face as she smiled. She studied the rest of the license, her eyes constantly coming back to the top. She looked up, setting the wallet on the table as she stood, going to the refrigerator, to the little magnetized calendar. She let her fingers skim over it, eyes closing when she got to today's date. She heard a whistle in her ear and sighed.

"Earth to Mel. Come in, Mel."
"Sorry. I, uh … I got distracted."
"What, does the Blue Steel turn you on?"

She laughed again.

"Oh, you have no idea. Try it later and see what happens. Hey, do you mind if I borrow your baby for a little bit?"
"Why, got a hot date?"
"Yeah, with your two dollars and some ice cream."

Dean laughed, hard and loud.

"It's like 12 degrees outside."
"It's California. It's never 12 degrees here."
"Freak cold snap."

Melinda rolled her eyes, and Dean just smiled.

"So is that a yes?"
"Yeah, it is. Just be careful with her. And grab a jacket. It really is cold out there."

Melinda smiled, feeling a warmth deep in her heart.

"I will. And your wallet is perfectly safe up here. Don't work too hard."

They ended the call, and Melinda let out a sigh. She walked to the bedroom, slipping into some jeans and a sweater, grabbing Dean's leather jacket on her way out the door.

Dean came walking into the apartment just after ten. He let out a sigh and rolled his shoulders.

"Mel? Baby, you here?"
"Kitchen!"

He slipped his shoes off by the door, walking to the kitchen in his bare feet.

"I have had the night from Hell. There was a fight, which yours truly had to break up. The jukebox broke. Not to mention its restock night, which I declare will now be restock morning, because I just can't …"

His sentence trailed off as he stepped into the kitchen, where the lights were off. The only light in the room came from the candles atop a cake. A big "2" and a "7". Dean swallowed, then looked up at Melinda's smiling face.

"How—how did…?"
"You left your wallet, and I'm nosy. It's in big bold print on your license."

Her voice went soft.

"Why didn't you tell me it was your birthday?"

Dean shrugged his shoulders, looking back to the cake. He mumbled.

"It's not a big deal."
"Oh, come on. It is a big deal. It's your birthday! Only happens once a year."

She tilted her head to the side when he didn't say anything, didn't take his eyes off of the cake. She stepped around the table, closer to him.

"I didn't know what kind you liked. I've always been a fan of yellow cakes with chocolate icing, and I knew you liked chocolate, so…"

She shrugged her shoulders and Dean nodded.

"No, it—it's great."

His voice was rough, and Melinda laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey. What is it?"

Dean shook his head, and Melinda sighed.

"Don't give me that. I didn't mean to make you upset on your birthday. I just—"
"No, it … it's not that. I, uh…"

He ran a hand over his mouth, still looking at the cake. He cleared his throat.

"The last time I had a cake was when I turned four. My mom made it for me, like she did every year. A, uh … a yellow cake with chocolate icing, and she'd laugh when I got it all over my face."

He turned to Melinda with a sad smile that tugged at her heart.

"She made me a cake for my birthday in January, and she died in November."

Melinda covered her lips with her hand. He kept smiling that sad smile as tears welled up in her eyes.

"Mom always made a big deal over my birthdays. Big parties, a homemade cake. When she was gone …"

He shook his head.

"I always tried to make a big deal out of Sam's birthdays, and—"
"No one made a big deal out of yours."

He shrugged, meeting Melinda's eyes. Tears were rolling down her cheeks, and she moved to wrap him in her arms. He let out a long sigh, wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her close to him. He turned his head to smell her hair and she looked up at the ceiling, trying to stop crying. After a minute, when she had composed herself, she pulled back and gave him a smile.

"You need to make a wish and blow out your candles."

Dean smiled and nodded, turning to the table as Melinda wiped her face. He blew out the candles, plunging the kitchen into darkness, and Melinda laughed.

"Well, good job."

She let out a quiet gasp as she suddenly felt the wall at her back, hands instinctively going out to wrap around Dean's arms. She would have said something, but his mouth found hers then. Her hands drifted from his arms to his hair, fingers sliding through the short strands, cupping the back of his head. He kissed her cheek, and she lifted her head to give him access to her jaw, and she gasped again when he hit a spot under her chin.

"I, uh… I was going to—ha—to fix you supper."
"You okay with eating later?"

She felt him suck on the skin where her neck and shoulder met and Melinda tightened her grip in his hair.

"It'll keep. It might even keep until tomorrow."

Dean smiled as he found her mouth again, and she felt his hands drift down to her thighs.

"Wrap your legs around me."

Melinda nodded, doing what he asked as he lifted her up. She moaned as he carried her to the bedroom, hands still tangled in his hair as she panted, until he laid her on the bed. Her sweatpants were the first thing to go, and she shivered. Dean reached behind him and pulled his shirt over his head, shaking out his shoulders. He looked down at the bed, a smile appearing when Melinda's shirt hit him in the face. He took hold of the shirt, dropping it to the floor. She leaned back on the bed, sitting at the edge, and Dean smiled as he walked over to her. He slid his hand to her cheek and she kissed his palm, before he slid his hand to her hair, removing the band that held her hair in a ponytail. She shook her head as her honey-colored hair bounced around. Dean moved closer to her, pushing both of his hands into her hair, and she gasped.

"Dean."
"I love your hair. It's so soft, so beautiful. You're so beautiful."

His fingers were massaging her scalp, and she was making these amazing noises of pleasure. He bent to press his mouth to hers, feeling her hands slide up his back. He kept kissing her, kept his hands in her hair, and finally pressed his forehead against hers with a sharp gasp as he felt her slide his belt loose, unbuttoning and unzipping his pants, sliding her hand inside.

"G—god, Mel."
"Happy birthday, baby."

She pressed a kiss to his cheek, pulled him closer to the bed, soaking in his groan as she used her mouth on him. He grit his teeth, because it felt so good, but it had been too long since they'd done this. He'd never make it to the good part if she kept on.

"Mel. Baby, you—oh god."

The breath was burning in his lungs, tremors rolling up and down his spine.

"Mel, you gotta stop. You got to."

He reached down, touching her cheek, and she looked up at him, moving back with a sly smile on her face. She flipped her hair over her shoulder, coming up on her knees on the bed.

"It's your birthday. You're running this thing."

Yeah, right. Neither one of them really believed that, especially when she reached around, undoing her bra and letting it fall to the floor. Dean growled low in his throat and she laughed as he pretty much pounced on her, both of them moving up the bed to lie on the pillows. Dean slid his hand right into her panties, making her gasp and reach up to clutch his arm, biting his shoulder. He grinned.

"Oh, yeah. This is what I'm talking about."

Melinda whimpered, and Dean hooked his fingers in her panties, sliding them off, tossing one of her legs over his shoulder. And then, god, his mouth. The things he could do. Melinda was writhing on the bed, panting and moaning his name, and then, words were gone. She had no idea of anything except the fireball of pleasure that was erupting throughout her body. She vaguely saw Dean sitting up, shakily sliding a condom on, and then he was there.

Her eyes slid shut, her thighs tightening around his hips to hold him there. He was breathing hard, eyes clamped shut, lips trembling. Melinda blinked, saw him suck his bottom lip into his mouth, teeth clamping down on it and she moaned. He blinked his eyes open, looking down at her. She nodded as she snaked a hand up, wrapping around his neck and pulling him down to her. He smiled, going to her as he rolled his hips. She lifted hers to meet him, both of them biting back a groan. His back arched as his head fell back, and Melinda followed him, sitting up and wrapping her arms around him.

"Stay with me, Dean."

She felt his strong arm come around her, holding her close as he switched their positions. She was in his lap now, looking down at him, and he smiled at her, giving her a wink.

Later, she'll look back and say that was the moment that did it. Just a simple little wink, but it ignited a fire inside of her. Or it made her realize that the fire had been burning for a while, ever since one night at a bar, when a stranger challenged her to a game of pool. He won the game and her heart.

No.

No.

She gasped. This wasn't supposed to happen. She wasn't supposed to fall in—No. She reached and pushed his chest with both of her hands. He obliged her, going to rest back on the pillows. She braced herself on his chest, rolling her hips, biting back moans until she couldn't anymore because it just felt so damn good. She rode him almost brutally. Not painfully, or punishing, just … She didn't know what it meant. Neither did he, but he'd felt the shift. She watched him as he closed his eyes, squeezing them shut, setting his jaw, making the tendons stand out in his neck. She bent down and kissed one, before gently sinking her teeth into it. Dean groaned, shaking his head.

"Mel. Damn it, Mel, I'm close. So– God."

She nodded, moving two more times before she threw her head back, her back arching as a warmth spread throughout her body. It was intense and deep, and she forgot to breathe for a minute, until her lungs were burning with the need for air. She gasped, collapsing down onto Dean's chest, and he caught her easily, his trembling arms coming around her as his shaky hands rubbed circles into her back. Her eyes stayed open as her head rested on his shoulder, breath heaving into and out of her lungs, the same way as the man she was resting on.

Dean lay in the bed staring up at the ceiling. Melinda was right beside him, curled up on her side, sleeping. She was holding onto his arm, and he had his other one behind his head. He should be sleeping. He was tired, and he wanted to sleep, but … He just couldn't. His mind was racing.

He didn't know exactly when it had happened. He'd never meant for it to happen, and damn if it hadn't anyway. He was beating himself up over it, wishing he had a shot of—no, a glass of—hell, make it the whole damn bottle of something he'd regret in the morning. He didn't think it would really matter, though. As soon as the hangover would wear off, he'd be right back where he was at this very moment.

Head over heels in love.

Damn it all to hell.

He hated himself. He was so caught up in a chick-flick moment that he could barely refrain from grabbing the gun in his bedside table—thanks for that paranoia, Dad—and putting himself out of his misery. He ran his hand over his face and let out a sigh. An answering sigh came from beside him, and a smile crossed his face. He rolled onto his side to look at her again, then came back to rest on his back.

It wasn't so bad. Was it? Okay, sure. So he hadn't been able to hold down a normal relationship since … well, ever. And who could define "normal," anyway? Melinda had said it once already: he had a gypsy soul. Dean Winchester was not one to stay in one place very long. So if he had a string of hearts behind him, who could blame him? It gets awful lonely out there on the road.

It hadn't just been one night stands, though. He'd had a couple of meaningful times. There'd been Cassie, the first girl he ever loved. And Lisa, who'd been burned into his brain since that weekend they spent together when he was nineteen. And of course, there was Jo.

Jo. He hadn't thought about her in a while. He felt bad for it, all of a sudden. He rolled again, looking down at Melinda and sighed. He pressed a kiss to her shoulder, sliding his arm out from under her. He pulled the covers closer around her, then climbed out of bed, sliding a pair of flannel pajama pants on. He walked to the kitchen, smiling when he saw the cake on the table, and went about cutting himself a slice.

He leaned against the counter, staring out the little window at the moon, high up in the sky. He took a bite of cake and let his mind drift back.

"Hey, you."

Dean turned from the window to see Jo smiling at him. She was wearing his button-down, and it hung to just above her knees. He gave her a smile and she walked over to him. She came and stood right in front of him, all up in his personal space, and turned to look out the window, leaning back into his chest. Dean wrapped his arms around her, pressing a kiss to the side of her head.

"I woke up and you weren't there."

Dean smiled.

"Couldn't sleep. Didn't want to wake you."

Jo ran her hand along his arm as she smiled.

"I like to look at the moon."

Dean laughed quietly, pulling her closer to him.

"I like to look at you."

Jo grinned, turning around in his arms and wrapping hers around him and pulling him to her. She kissed him, threading her fingers through his hair. Dean let his forehead rest against hers, and Jo sighed.

"What is it, babe?"

She sighed again, but she answered him.

"You made it crystal clear that you don't stick around. But you've been here for almost two months, Dean. I … I guess I'm just waiting for the other shoe to drop."

He nodded, giving her a smile.

"Yeah, about that. I've been thinking …"
"Oh, do you have a headache?"

Dean gently pinched her hip and she giggled.

"I think … I mean, how would you feel … If I stayed?"

Jo looked up, her dark brown eyes locking with his green ones.

"Really?"

Dean grinned, moving his hands up to cup her face as he leaned in to kiss her again.

He squeezed his eyes shut at the lance of pain that shot through his heart, the way it always did when he thought of Jo. Even after nearly a year, it hurt like it had just happened yesterday. He reached a hand up, absently rubbing over his heart as he looked down at the plate in his hand, swallowing hard as another memory filled his brain.

"You know what?"

Dean smiled as he pushed a rag across the bar.

"What, Blondie?"

Jo turned from sweeping up the floor to stick her tongue out at him. Dean laughed, and she had a smile on her face.

"I was just thinking—"
"Ooh, don't hurt yourself."

He ducked as he laughed, barely missing the beer-soaked rag she flung at his head. He held up his hands in surrender, and she was useless when he gave her that smile. She shook her head, going back to sweeping.

"Anyway, I was just thinking that Mom's birthday is coming up next week."

Dean nodded, and Jo turned to face him, propping a hand on her hip.

"When's your birthday?"

Dean stopped and looked up at her. A smile spread across her face.

"I mean, you've been here for nearly a year, Dean. We live together, sleep together. You know almost everything about me, and I don't even know when your birthday is."

He had a small smile on his face as he looked down at the bar. Jo walked over, hopping up on the barstool in front of him. After a moment, Dean looked up, meeting her dark eyes.

"January 24, 1979."
"Grandpa."
"Hey!"

Jo just laughed. He was only six years older than her, but she felt the need to rub it in.

"So you're a … what's January? Capricorn?"
"Aquarius. What are you?"
"Aries."
"I don't know what that means."

Jo laughed, shaking her head.

"Neither do I. I don't believe in that stuff. Just makes me laugh when I read it."

Dean smiled at her and nodded. Jo sighed, hopping off of the barstool.

"Well, since I missed your birthday…"

She walked over to the jukebox, pressing buttons. REO Speedwagon's Can't Fight This Feeling came through the speakers and Dean smiled. That was unofficially "their" song. She'd played it the first time he came in the Roadhouse, and ever since then, the first few notes made both of them smile. He'd made sure to have it playing the first time he made love to her.

He stepped out from behind the bar, leaving his rag where it was. He stepped past the pool table, where Ash was currently passed out. He held his thumb out at Ash and Jo smiled.

"This won't wake him up?"
"Armageddon wouldn't wake Ash up once he got to sleep."

Dean smiled, stepping over to her and taking her in his arms. She rested against his chest, letting her hands come up to gently brush through his hair, across the stubble on his cheeks.

"I love you, Dean."

He smiled, pulling her closer to him, holding her just a little bit tighter.

"I love you too, Jo."

That was the last night he got to spend with her.

Damn it, he had to stop. He was holding onto the countertops, breathing hard. Why was this happening? Why couldn't he stop thinking about Jo? She was gone. That was it. She'd counted on him and he let her down, like he did everyone else in his life.

Oh. Maybe that was why. Maybe he couldn't stop thinking about Jo because he'd just realized he'd fallen in love with Melinda. After everything with Jo, he'd sworn to himself, to God, to anyone who was listening, that he'd never fall in love again. It hurt too much.

And yet here he was.

Damn it all to hell.

"Dean?"

He glanced to the kitchen doorway, smiling when he saw Melinda in his shirt, rubbing her sleepy eyes, her honey blonde hair tousled from his hands.

"Hey, babe."

She walked over to him, putting her arms around him, her face in his bare chest. He smiled, letting his arms come around her, one hand at the back of her head, playing in her hair. They stood like that for a minute, until she shifted, laying her ear over his heart.

"I woke up and you weren't there."
"I'm right here, babe."

She lifted her chin, looking him in the eyes, and his heart caught in his throat. Yeah, everything he'd been trying to convince himself of earlier? How he wasn't in love with her, how he couldn't be?

Utter bullshit. He was so far gone.

He bent his head, gently pressing his lips to hers. Melinda was all warm and soft, and when he ended the kiss, she pulled back with a smile on her face.

"What?"
"You taste like chocolate icing."

Dean smiled.

"Snuck a piece of cake while you were asleep."

She looked down at his plate and smiled, reaching out and running her finger through the icing, sliding that finger in her mouth. Dean swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. Melinda sucked the icing off of her finger, then leaned in closer to him.

"Come back to bed with me. I'll even let you bring the cake."

She turned around and walked away, leaving Dean staring after her. After a moment, he came to his senses, shaking his head before taking a few steps out of the kitchen.

"Don't forget the cake!"

What was she, a psychic? He shook his head again as he turned around, grabbing the plate off the counter, hurrying back down the hall to their room. He wasn't entirely sure when it had become "their" room, but it was now. He sighed, trying to sort out his bearings when Melinda poked her head out of the door.

"Hey, you okay?"

Dean looked up at her and smiled.

"Fine."
"Good. Come on, then."

She disappeared behind the door, and a second later, her arm appeared again, with his shirt dangling from her fingertips. He laughed as he walked inside, pushing the door shut behind him with his foot.

Dean sat in the corner booth of the coffee shop, a warm cup of coffee in his hands. He looked up when he heard the bell above the door ring, and in walked his giant of a baby brother. He fought and was able to keep the smile off of his face. Sam walked to the counter, putting in his order, and a few minutes later, Sam was sitting across from him, sipping something Dean could only guess was a coffee-less, girly drink. Finally, Sam broke the silence.

"All right. I can't just sit here in one of our infamous Winchester silent stand-offs. I didn't mean the things I said. I was upset. Seeing Jess upset makes me mad, and I took it out on you, and I shouldn't have. I'm sorry, Dean."

Dean took another sip of his coffee, then sighed.

"We both said things we didn't mean, Sammy. It's all right."

Sam nodded, staring at his coffee cup. This fight had been pretty much his fault. Dean hadn't had much to do with it, not taking the bait when Sam tried to get him to. But then again, it's always been that way. Whatever fight they had, Dean would give him a smile and say "it's all right, Sammy," and that was it. It was over and done, and they were the closest of brothers yet again. Sam let out a sigh, still staring at his cup.

"I feel like a jerk, Dean."
"No, you're the bitch, remember?"

Sam smiled at that.

"I didn't talk to you yesterday. The text doesn't count."

Sam had texted Dean just before midnight, telling him happy birthday, asking to meet him at the coffee shop down the street from the old apartment today. And Sam was relieved when Dean replied, just a simple "ok." Dean looked down at his coffee cup, gently shrugged his shoulders.

"It's all right, Sammy."
"No, it's not. I missed your birthday, because I was too much of an asshole to call you."

Sam swallowed when Dean didn't say anything.

"Guess no matter how much I tried to fight it, I am John Winchester's son."
"Sam, come on."

Sam looked up, and Dean sighed.

"We were pissed at each other. It happens. Especially with us, you know? But you texted me. That counts."
"Did Dad …?"

Sam let the question trail off, and Dean looked back to his coffee cup, shaking his head.

"He's busy, you know that."

Sam nodded, hating his dad just then. Dean worshiped the ground the man walked on, but the bastard couldn't be bothered to put the bottle down long enough to call his son on his birthday. Sam finished off his coffee, crushing the cup in his big hand. Dean saw it, couldn't help the smile that crossed his face.

"Easy there, Bruce. Wouldn't want to see you when you're angry."

Sam looked at his hand, closing his eyes as he laughed quietly. He looked back up, meeting Dean's eyes. After a second, Dean gave him a wink, and Sam rolled his eyes. There it was. They were back. Dean finished his coffee, pushing the cup to the end of the table.

"So what are we going to do to get the Moore sisters back together?"

Sam sighed.

"We're going to need more coffee for this."

Melinda stood outside the apartment, her jacket pulled around her. She sighed, reaching up again before letting her hand fall. She closed her eyes, finally knocking. She glanced over her shoulder, biting her lip, and she turned back around when the door opened. Dark eyes widened, and Jess' mouth dropped into a little "O."

"Mel."
"Hey, Jess. Can … Can I come in?"

Jess blinked a few times, then took a step back.

"Of course. Always."

Melinda stepped inside, letting Jess close the door behind her. They stood in the hallway for a moment, before Jess thought to speak.

"I was just about to make some tea. Do you want some?"

Melinda looked over at her and smiled.

"I'd love some."

She followed Jess into the kitchen, taking a seat at the table as Jess filled the tea kettle with water, putting it on the stove. Melinda sighed.

"Jessie, we need to talk."

Jess nodded.

"Can I go first?"

Jess nodded again, coming to the table to sit across from her sister. Melinda took in a deep breath, then met Jess' eyes.

"I'm twenty-two years old, Jess. I know you want what's best for me, but what you think I need to do and what I want to do are two totally different things. I don't want to be a doctor. Or a lawyer. I'm sick of going to school. You can't force me into doing what you want, okay?"

Jess nodded, letting out a sigh.

"I know. You're right. I just … I worry about you. I want to know that you're taken care of, or that you can take care of yourself, and …"

Jess sighed again.

"I can't make you do what I want you to do, even though I know you could do it, and do it well. You've got to make your own decisions, and I've got to let you."

Melinda smiled, reaching a hand across the table. Jess smiled, laying her hand in her sisters'.

"I missed you, Jessie."
"I missed you too, Mel."

They both stood up, Jess coming around the table to wrap Melinda in her arms. They hugged until the tea kettle whistled, Jess grabbing them some cups and tea bags, coming back to the table.

"So what's been going on?"

Melinda smiled.

"Well, I'm staying at Dean's."
"I figured as much."

Melinda took a sip of her tea, making a face, accepting the honey Jess passed her way. Jess smiled, taking a sip of her tea. Melinda nodded when her tea was acceptable, looking back over to Jess.

"He gave me a job in the bar."
"Really?"

Melinda nodded.

"Do you like it?"

Melinda smiled.

"I love it. I get amazing tips, sometimes hustle a little pool. And Dean's there, so I don't have to worry about anything."

Jess smiled, letting Melinda go on.

"I didn't drop out or anything. I still go to my classes. Still graduating in May."
"That's great, Mel."

Jess reached over, taking Melinda's hand again. Melinda let out a sigh.

"What is it, little sister?"

Melinda looked down at her tea cup, then back up to Jess.

"I, uh … I don't want to hurt your feelings."

Jess shrank back into her chair, and Melinda sighed again.

"But I think … I think it might be better for us if I stay with Dean."
"You don't want to come home?"

Melinda smiled.

"It's not that I don't want to come home. I just think it might help our relationship if we're not breathing down each other's necks every single day. This wasn't our first fight, Jess."

Jess snorted at that, a smile on her face.

"I love you so much, you know that, right?"

Jess nodded, and Melinda squeezed her hand.

"I hate fighting with you, and if we're constantly in each other's hair, the way we have been for, what, 14 years? We fight. I just think that maybe living apart for a while could help us."

Jess let out a sigh.

"Yeah, I … I think you're right. When did you get to be so smart?"
"I've always been smart. Learned it from my big sister."

Jess laughed, going back around the table to hug Melinda.

"Dean's okay with you staying?"

A soft smile crossed Melinda's face.

"Yeah, he is."

Jess' eyes widened, but she didn't say anything. She put a smile on her face and nodded.

"Oh! Guess who called me today."

Melinda held her hands out and Jess smiled.

"Your favorite sweet-toothed ex- … whatever he was."
"Gabe called you?"

Jess nodded, smiling.

"He's coming to town tonight, and he's got to see you. His words, not mine."

Melinda let her head fall back as she laughed.

"You know what I need? That purple dress you have."
"Oh my God! Not that one with the—"
"Yes!"

Jess threw her head back with a laugh.

"Come on, let's go see if we can dig it up."