Chapter 3: His Scent, My Sin

MELANIE

My hands shook so badly I could barely hold my bag as I tore it open and gripped my phone, blood staining everything I touched.  

I dialed my father first, tears running down my face, blurring my vision. It rang twice before he picked up.

“Dad,” I sobbed the second he answered. “Some…  something b—bad happened. Please, you have to help me. Rey—”

Dalton Wealth’s voice cut in cold and impatient. “Melanie, I'm busy right now. You’re an adult; handle your own mess. If it’s that serious, call Gavin. I can’t deal with your drama tonight.”

He hung up.

I stared at the phone like it had spat on me, fresh tears rolling down my cheeks. Of course, he didn’t care. What did I really expect? 

With trembling fingers, I dialed the only other person I could think of. 

Gavin answered immediately.

“Melanie?” His voice was steady, but I could hear the concern immediately. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“Gavin…” I cried harder, the sound ugly. “I’m at Reynold’s house. I need you, please.” 

“What happened?” His tone sharpened instantly.

“He tried to force himself on me. I hit him with a glass. There’s blood everywhere. I didn't know who else to call. Please…I don’t know what to do.” My words tumbled out one after the other with no spacing between them. 

There was a short pause. Then his voice came back, calm but commanding. “Stay right there. Don’t touch anything else. I’m coming right now. Give me the address.”

I gave it to him between hiccuping breaths.

“I’m on my way,” he said. “Just breathe, Melanie. I’ll handle it.”

The line went dead.

I dropped to the ground and hugged my knees to my chest, staring at Reynold’s still body as blood kept forming under his head. 

Every minute felt like an hour. Every small sound made me jump. I kept expecting Reynold to suddenly sit up or for the police to burst through the door.

Then I heard tires on the driveway outside. A car door slammed shut, and hasty footsteps approached the front door.

It opened.

Gavin stepped inside, tall and serious in his coach jacket. His eyes scanned the room, taking in everything—the broken glass, the blood, my torn dress, my shaking body, before locking eyes with me.

“Melanie,” he said quietly.

He crossed the room in a few strides and crouched in front of me, his big hands gentle as they tilted my chin, checking for injuries I hadn’t even noticed.

“Gavin,” I whispered, voice small. “I killed him.”

His jaw tightened as he took in the scene. He stood slowly, running a hand through his hair, then looked back at me with that steady gaze.

“Breathe, Melanie. Tell me exactly what happened.”

I tried, but the words kept getting stuck. “He… he tried to force himself on me. I said no. He tore my dress and pinned me down. I… I got scared. I hit him with the vase and then the bottle. He just… stopped moving. I think he’s dead. I called dad, and he told me to leave him alone. He didn’t even care.”

Gavin’s face hardened for a moment when I mentioned my father, but he quickly pushed it aside. He crouched down again so we were at eye level.

“Okay,” he said, voice low and controlled. “You’re going to my house right now.” He pressed his keys into my bloody palm. “I’ll handle the scene here first. Don’t stop anywhere. Don’t call anyone else. Just go inside and wait for me. Can you do that?”

I nodded, tears still running down my face. My legs felt weak when I stood up. Gavin steadied me with a firm hand on my back as he walked me to the door, handing me my jacket. The cold night air hit my exposed skin, making me shiver.

“Drive carefully,” he said behind me. “I’ll be right behind you.”

I somehow made it to my car and drove to Gavin’s house on autopilot, hands shaking so hard I could barely hold the wheel. 

When I let myself in with his keys, the place was dark and quiet. Hockey trophies and team photos lined the shelves. It smelled like him; clean, masculine, safe in a way that made my chest ache even worse than the fear.

I had always wondered how Gavin could afford this house on a coach salary. 

I looked down at myself. 

There were blood stains on my hands, my arms, and what was left of my dress. I felt disgusted.

I dug through my bag for my cigarettes and lighter, fingers trembling and slippery with dried blood. It took like five tries to light one. I inhaled deeply, the smoke burning my lungs, and exhaled hard into the air. 

I lit another before the first was finished, sinking to the floor so I wouldn’t stain his couch. One after another, four, five, until the ashtray I improvised from a coaster filled up. 

After almost two hours and more than seven cigarettes down, the front door finally opened.

Gavin walked in and closed it quietly behind him, his face looking tired. His eyes found me immediately on the cold tiles.

“Melanie,” he said softly. 

He crossed the room and knelt in front of me, carefully taking my bloody fingers in his large, warm hands.

“You’re safe now,” he said. “I handled it. Reynold is alive. Concussed and bleeding, but breathing. I got him help without involving the police… yet. We’ll figure out the rest later.”

“What?” My eyes flew wide. Relief hit me so hard my shoulders sagged. “He’s alive?”

He wasn’t dead. I hadn’t killed him. But the fear didn’t go away completely, 

What if he wakes up and tells everyone I almost killed him? What if Gavin gets into trouble because of me?

Gavin noticed the pile of cigarette butts beside me and sighed. “Come on, Mel. I’ve told you those things will kill you.”

I was too shaken to snap back.

He stood and gently pulled me to my feet. “Let’s get you cleaned up. You can’t stay like this.”

He led me to the bathroom, turned on the shower, and tested the water. “I’ll wait outside. There’s a clean towel and one of my shirts on the counter. Take your time.”

When the door closed behind him, I took off the ruined dress and stepped under the hot water. The blood washed away slowly, turning the drain red. 

I scrubbed my skin until it felt extremely raw, trying to erase the memory of Reynold’s hands on me, but the harder I scrubbed, the more I heard that quiet voice in my head telling me I deserved what happened to me.

When I finally stepped out, I dried off and slipped on Gavin’s oversized black shirt, totally naked under. It fell halfway down my thighs and smelled exactly like him. I couldn't help burying my nose in the collar for a long time, closing my eyes. 

This was the closest I had ever been to him. Fuck… it felt so good.

I walked back to the living room. Gavin was sitting on the couch, with his elbows on his knees, staring at the floor. He looked up when I entered.

“Feeling any better?” he asked quietly.

I shook my head, fresh tears filling my eyes. “I was so scared, Gavin. He wouldn’t stop. I thought…I really thought I killed him.”

He stood and stepped closer, his presence filling the room. “Melanie…”

Watching him walk towards me, something inside me snapped. All the years of secret longing, the loneliness that never left, the fear from tonight, the knowledge that wanting him was the worst possible idea right now. It was all too much.

I didn’t think or hesitate.

I closed the distance in two bold steps and kissed him hard.