Page 43 of Freak
All expression disappeared from his face, and he stared slackly at her for a long time. She let that time extend until he discovered words to speak.
“I don’t understand, Abs. Trusted? Like in the past? Like you don’t anymore? I don’t—whatever I did, I’m sorry for it, but I don’t know what I did that hurt you. I was trying toprotectyou. I want to takecareof you.”
As she gathered her next words, Abigail shifted her eyes from Mel’s for a moment—and caught movement in the side mirror behind his shoulder.
“Double A?” she said, perplexed, as the club vice president yanked the passenger door open.
Mel swung around, surprised, as Double A said, “Get your ass back inside. You made a bigger mess than you know.” He sent Abigail a rueful grin. “Sorry, Abigail.”
“It’s alright,” she said, because it was the most expedient thing to say.
Mel’s attention held on Double A. “I’m in the middle of somethin’ important here, Dub.”
“I do not give a fuck. Get your ass inside.” With that, he pushed back, turned, and returned the way he’d come, leaving the truck’s door open.
Mel turned back to Abigail. “I don’t know what I did, but I’m sorry you’re hurting.”
She knew he was sincere, but an apology without understanding was an empty box wrapped up like a gift. And anyway, he hadn’t really apologized. He’d expressed sympathy.
“That’s not enough, hon.”
“What does that mean?”
Tears gathered in her throat, but she swallowed them down. “It means we need to do some serious talking, but now isn’t the time. You need to go back inside. I’m gonna go on home. Call me when you can, and we’ll figure something out.”
He sat there, clearly hurt and confused. Unused to romantic connection and its complicated emotions, Abigail began to doubt her own feelings. Was she being unfair?
It didn’t matter in this moment. They couldn’t talk it out here and now, and nothing would get settled until they could. “You have to go, Mel.”
He grabbed her hand yet again. “I don’t feel like I can. This—you and me—I don’t want this to be over. I hardly feel like we got a start.”
“I don’t want it to be over, either. But we can’t fix anything right now. You know you have to go.”
Swiveling his head to look through the back window, he stared at the clubhouse door.
Abigail hadn’t been intimately acquainted with anyone in the Night Horde until recently, but she understood how it worked. Men of the Horde always chose the club first and trusted the club to step back when family had need.
There was need here. But she wasn’t family. Not yet, at least. As he’d said, they’d hardly gotten a start together.
“You have to go, Mel,” she said again, much more softly and with less conviction this time.
With a last glance her way, but not another word, he slid from the truck, slammed the door hard enough to rock the cab, and stalked away.
