All Fall Down. Erica Spindler

you didn’t have to.”

      The two women locked gazes; Mia backed down first. “Actually, I took your advice already. I thought, okay, what would Melanie do? So I confronted him. And guess what?”

      Melanie swallowed hard, her mouth dry. “What?”

      “He went berserk.” Mia indicated her black eye. “You see the result.” Melanie stared at her sister a moment, not wanting to believe what she was hearing. “You don’t mean … he hit you?”

      “That’s exactly what I mean.”

      “That son-of-a-bitch!” Melanie leaped to her feet. “That no-good, two-timing … I’ll kill the bastard. I swear, I’ll—”

      Melanie bit back the words, struggling to get hold of her anger. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and counted to ten. Growing up, she’d had a reputation for being a hothead. Her temper had gotten her into trouble time and again—once nearly landing her in reform school. If not for an understanding social worker, she would have ended up there.

      As an adult she had learned to control her hair-trigger emotions. To think before she acted. To consider the consequences of her actions.

      But old habits died hard. And when it came to her sisters, particularly Mia, she had always been ferociously, even blindly, protective.

      “What are you going to do?” she managed to ask through gritted teeth.

      Mia sighed, the sound too young and helpless for a thirty-two-year old woman. “What can I do?”

      “What can you …” Melanie made a sound of disbelief. “Call the cops. Have his butt hauled in, then press charges. Leave him, for heaven’s sake!”

      “You make it sound so easy.”

      “It is. You just do it.”

      “The way you left Stan?”

      “Yes.” Melanie went around the counter to her sister. She caught her hands and looked her straight in the eyes. “Leaving Stan was the hardest thing I ever did. But it was the best. I knew that then. I know it now.”

      Mia started to cry. “I’m not strong like you, Mellie. I’m not brave. I never have been.”

      “You can be.” She squeezed her sister’s fingers. “I’ll help you.”

      Mia shook her head. “No, you can’t. I’m just a sniveling, stupid excuse for a—”

      “Stop it! That’s our father talking. And Boyd. It’s not true.” She searched her sister’s gaze. “You don’t think I was scared when I left Stan? I was scared shitless. I’d never had to take care of myself, let alone a child, too. I didn’t know how I would support us, if I could. And I was terrified he’d try to take Casey away from me.”

      Melanie shuddered, remembering her terror, the way she had second-guessed her every decision. Her ex-husband was a prominent lawyer, a partner in one of Charlotte’s top firms. He could have wrested custody away from her without even breaking a sweat—he still could. As it was, he had pulled strings and gotten her application to the CMPD academy denied.

      She had left him anyway. For herself. And Casey. She hadn’t been the person Stan needed or wanted, though for a long time she had tried to mold herself into that woman. One who needed a man to lean on, one who was satisfied to sit back and let her husband call the shots while she tended to house and home. She had failed miserably. And in the process had become a person she had neither known nor liked.

      Their marriage had become a battleground. And a battleground had been no place to raise a child.

      “You can do it,” she said again, fiercely. “I know you can, Mia.”

      Mia shook her head, her expression defeated. “I wish I were like you. But I’m not.”

      Melanie drew her sister into her arms and held her tightly. “It’s going to be all right. We’ll get through this. I’ll get you through this. I promise.”

      6

      When Melanie and Casey arrived home an hour and a half later, after a quick stop for fast food, they found Ashley waiting for them. Melanie wasn’t surprised to see her. A drug company rep, her territory the Carolinas, she often dropped by Melanie’s on her way back into town.

      “Look who’s here, Casey,” Melanie said, drawing to a stop in the driveway. “Aunt Ashley.”

      McDonald’s Kid’s Meal forgotten, the child bolted out of the car the moment Melanie got his safety buckle undone. “Aunt Ashley! Look what I got from Aunt Mia! A megaman!”

      Melanie smiled as she watched her son launch himself into her sister’s outstretched arms. Her sisters had always been the most important people in her life and their love for Casey warmed her heart.

      Melanie collected her purse and the Kid’s Meal, then crossed to the two. “Hey, sis, have a productive trip?”

      Ashley lifted Casey, propping him on her hip, then turned to Melanie. She smiled. “You know pharmaceutical sales—drugs, the wave of the present.”

      Melanie laughed. Her sister was a paradox. Although extremely successful at what she did, she was a believer in natural and holistic healing. Whenever one of them got sick, she suggested herbs, roots and teas instead of one of the miracle drugs she made a living selling.

      They climbed the front steps to the house. “You could have let yourself in. Less mosquitoes.”

      “I know.” She hiked Casey higher on her hip. “But it was too pretty a night to wait inside.”

      Melanie unlocked the door and flipped on the foyer light. They made their way to the kitchen, turning on lights as they went. It was a small house, a cottage really, with two bedrooms, family room and kitchen. Though it would practically fit in the master-bedroom suite of her ex-husband’s home, Melanie loved it. In her opinion, what it lacked in size, it made up for in charm. Located in one of Whistlestop’s older neighborhoods, it had an abundance of windows, hardwood floors throughout and high ceilings.

      And best of all, she had paid for it herself, no help from her ex or anybody else.

      “Did you eat?” she asked her sister as she got Casey settled at the breakfast counter. “I was going to throw together a salad. I have enough for two.”

      “Thanks, but I’ll pass.” She shrugged out of her suit jacket and draped it over the back of a chair. “I had a late lunch with a doctor.”

      Melanie glanced at her sister and frowned, noticing how thin she looked. Slightly taller than her and Mia’s medium height, Ashley had also been blessed with a more curvaceous build. Tonight, however, her tailored trousers seemed to hang on her. “Have you been ill?” she asked.

      “No. Why?” “You look thin.”

      Ashley cocked an eyebrow. “Compared to what? The way I usually look?” “No, silly. Too thin.”

      “There’s no such thing.” She crossed to the refrigerator. “Have any cold beer?”

      “Think so. Help yourself.” Melanie unwrapped her son’s cheeseburger, laid it and his bag of French fries on a plate and set it in front of him, snitching a fry as she did.

      “Juice, Mom.”

      “Milk,” she countered. “Then juice if you’re still thirsty.”

      Casey only grumbled a bit—he knew it would be a losing battle—and dug into his burger. Melanie poured him the milk, then retrieved the salad fixings from the refrigerator. “You heard about Joli Andersen?”

      “On the radio.” Ashley poured a beer into a chilled mug, took a sip and made a sound of appreciation. “Nothing like an ice-cold beer at the end of a long, hard day.”

      Melanie