Page 78 of Always Meant for You
But I force myself to lower her. Carefully. Slowly. Like she might shatter if I move too fast.
Then I take a step back, stunned.
I kissed her.
I kissed Mabel.
I follow her to the truck. Lightning cracks through the sky, thunder trailing close behind as sheets of rain pelt us. “Hurry, get in,” I call, wrenching the driver’s side door open.
She slides in, and I drop into the driver’s seat.
She’s staring straight ahead, watching the rain pound the windshield.
I glance over. “Mabel, we should talk about?—”
“No, don’t,” she says, cutting me off.
She won’t look at me. And I know why. Her time in this town is only temporary. Why did I think we could talk it out? She doesn’t want a life in Elverna. She doesn’t want me.
I rake my hands through my hair, knowing what I have to say. “That can’t happen again,” I say, even though some part of me aches for her to tell me I’m wrong.
“It can’t,” she repeats. “It won’t.”
The silence between us stretches, full of everything we’re not saying.
My phone buzzes.
She tenses beside me. “Is it my dad?”
I glance at the screen, gathering my wits. “No. It’s Abe. He’s texting about a baby goat.”
She doesn’t respond at first, but I can feel her shift. Her body tenses, as if bracing for more bad news. “Is it okay?”
I start the engine and make a quick U-turn. “We need to get back.”
The downpour builds as I turn onto the road home.
“What’s wrong?” Her voice is quieter now. Less edge. More worry.
“Its mother was killed by a coyote a few days ago.”
“And?” she presses.
“We don’t have another nursing female.”
“It won’t survive on its own. What are you going to do?”
A knot twists in my belly. “Let nature take its course.”
“You mean let it die?” Mabel says, the fire returning to her voice.
I sigh. “It’s a farm, Mabel. Sometimes animals don’t make it.”
Her breath catches. She pulls her phone from her bag.
I glance over. “What are you doing?”
“Checking something,” she says. “In case I need a refresher.”
