Page 58 of Freak
His gaze was calm, and it held. Then he brought her hand to his mouth and pressed his lips to her knuckles. “If it doesn’t freak you out to hear it, then I’m sure.”
“It doesn’t freak me out.”
At that precise moment, the landline phone on the kitchen wall began to ring.
Though she didn’t use it the way most people did, like it was a vital organ, Abigail had a cell phone and got virtually all of her calls that way. The landline rarely rang, but when it did, it was usually Mrs. Perkins or Mr. Ebberley, two octogenarians nearby, living the end of their lives right where they’d lived the rest of them. They relied on their families to keep things running smoothly, and on neighbors when family couldn’t get there.
Though she hated to leave this moment, when Mel had professed his love and she still hadn’t returned a worthy reply, the phone’s strident peal, doubly loud for the extra bell on the porch, had already burst the bubble.
“I’m sorry. I should get that. It might be trouble for one of the oldsters up the road.”
Mel nodded amiably and released her hand. “I’ll refill our coffee—and I’m here if they need help up there.”
That was Mel. He took care of people. She needed to see the world from his point of view as much as she wanted him to see it from hers. That was how any strong relationship worked, integrating perspectives and worldviews that didn’t have to align perfectly but ultimately couldn’t clash. Such a delicate balance required compromise. For Mel, maybe that meant remembering that she was slow to take offence from strangers, and slow down his own impulse to defend her. And for Abigail, maybe it meant allowing herself to be defended even when she didn’t necessarily need it. Because it was important to Mel to take care of the people he loved, and because Mel was important to her.
That blasted Harvest Gold monster had rung a good eight times before she got to it and heaved the handset off the hook. “Hello, this is Abigail.”
“It’s Badger,” came the gruff announcement in lieu of a greeting. “Is Mel with you?”
Well. This had to be the first time Badger Ness had ever dialed her number. And this one, too. Adrienne had her cell number, but ... oh well. Not a mystery that needed solving. “He is. Would you like to speak to him?”
Badger made a sound that came across the phone line like a sudden burst of static. “Yes,” he said, his voice sharpening to a point. “That would be great.” He said it through gritted teeth. Something was clearly wrong, and the Horde president was clearly angry.
She dropped the phone to her chest, obscuring the mouthpiece in her bosom, and turned to Mel, who was watching her curiously, a full coffee cup in each hand.
“It’s Badger. He’s calling for you.”
Mel’s expressive, friendly face turned instantly to granite. He, too, was angry now. He set the cups down and took the phone.
“Yeah,” he barked and then went quiet, his expression continuing to harden.
Abigail couldn’t make out the words, but she could hear Badger yelling.
She prepared to face a day that would likely decline from its bright dawning. This Harvest Festival seemed destined to go off the rails in some way.
Chapter Seventeen
