Page 62 of Freak
Chapter Eighteen
Abigail smiled as shewatched Ashlyn Carrothers wander down the fairway, wearing little Rocky and Emmaline. She admired mothers like Ashlyn so much, but she worried about them, too. When Ashlyn’s last name had been Brewer, when she’d been a girl with only herself to mind, she’d been a fey little fairy, flitting all around town like a hummingbird, seemingly delighted by the world and unbothered by its darker underside. She’d been chock full of enthusiasm, too much for any single interest to contain. Young Ashlyn had been interested in and excited by just about everything.
Then she and Brad Carrothers had gotten married, and Emmaline had shown up about six months later. Ashlyn Carrothers transformed completely, and seemingly only, into a wife and mother. She was good at it; she doted on those children but also taught them manners and boundaries and how to be a good citizen of the world—at least, she appeared to be beginning to do so with the older Emmaline—but Ashlyn had diminished somewhat as well. All her energy and enthusiasm was directed at her babies, with none left over for herself. Her wings had been clipped.
But she was young, still finding her way through the challenges of this new life. Abigail hoped she’d find lost parts of herself along the way as well.
It would help a great deal if Brad saw his role in his family as partner and not simply provider. But that didn’t appear to be the case.
“Hey, beautiful,” a familiar voice rolled softly at her side.
Turning to Mel, Abigail’s smile spread wide. “Hey, handsome. You okay?”
Reaching across the table, he caught her arm and drew her closer so he could lean in and set his lips on her cheek. “Sure, why wouldn’t I be?” he asked in a breath against her skin.
When he made to lean back, she set her hand on his cheek and held him where he was. They both took a beat to enjoy this tiny intimacy. Simply having him near enough to touch added something to Abigail’s mental storehouse. He calmed her, even when she was already calm.
She was usually calm, outwardly at least, but her mind was almost always busy. Whether she was contending with trouble or not, her mind was a dervish, spinning from thought to thought, while they all clamored together and made something like static across the background of her head.
When Mel set his hand on her, all those voices went still, and Abigail discovered that she could breathe more deeply.
She leaned back and met his eyes. “It looked like trouble at the clubhouse when you left this morning. I’ve been worried, hon.”
“Sorry, Abs. I should’ve texted. SoCal showed up right before I got there, everybody was on the lot doing the reunion thing, and Badger was too busy, I guess, to ream me out. He just barked orders at me, and I’ve been here working ever since. He’s givin’ me shit jobs, so I guess that’s my sentence.” He grinned. “I think he means to make it hard for me to get to you, but you see how I found a loophole?”
Abigail didn’t appreciate Badger using her to punish Mel, but on the other hand she liked the implication that he believed keeping them apart, if only for today—it had better be only for today!—would hurt Mel enough to make an impression.
“It worries me that you and Badger aren’t in a good place. He’s kind of your boss, isn’t he?”
He nodded. “At SBC, Showdown’s the boss, but yeah, in the Keep, it’s Badge, of course. But he’s not my father, or my god. What he says only goes so far.”
“I still don’t like to be an agent of strife, even accidentally, and it sure seems like that’s what’s happening. The thing yesterday, and now what’s going on today—is it always like this in the club?”
Mel glanced around before he answered. “First, you’re not an agent of anything but good. Second, no, it’s not anything like this usually. Things are weird this weekend, and I don’t have a good handle on it yet. So I don’t want to talk about it—but it does bring up somethin’ else we should talk about.”
With that, he stepped back, went around the table, and came directly to her side. While he made that short trip, a couple, unfamiliar yet obviously Horde (the man was wearing a kutte) stepped up to her booth.
The man was handsome in an intense way, like a marble statue of a Greek god. He was about as tall as Mel, leaner but still well built. Long gold hair, streaked with white, and a longish, darker gold beard, white at the chin and near his ears. Keenly blue eyes with an unusual ring of gold on the outer edge of the irises. Abigail guessed him to be around Mel’s age, nearing or just past fifty. The flash on the right side of his kutte saidTrick.
The woman—girl?—with him seemed to be no older than early twenties. More like late teens, really. She was a beauty, with clear olive skin, long sable hair, and eyes so dark and keen they seemed onyx.
Abigail tried not to judge, love came where it would and she knew of plenty of May-December relationships, and she was only guessing about the width of the age gap here, but she was relieved when the young woman picked up a gift basket of lavender-lemon scented products—a small bar of soap, fragrance mist, lotion, and a linen handkerchief, with a tiny lemon embroidered in one corner, all arranged in a purple wicker basket and wrapped up with a sunny yellow bow—and said, “What about this, Dad?”
Father and daughter. See? Best not to judge while only guessing.
As the man—Trick—turned to his daughter, he noticed Mel, and his expression, which had almost been a scowl, opened wide as he grinned. “Hey, brother.”
Mel hooked an arm around Abigail’s waist and returned Trick’s grin. “Hey, man.” They exchanged a quick handshake, and Mel turned to the girl. “You can’t be Lucie, can you? Last time I saw you, you were a little thing in pigtails.”
The girl smiled. “Yep, I’m Lucie.” A charming pertness sharpened the corners of her mouth to points. “Did you know that people continue to grow and mature even when you’re not looking?” She said the words with the perfect tone of gentle teasing.
Mel laughed. “I supposed that’s true. But I see you’re still a sassy little sprite.”
Lucie’s cheeks went pink. She was so very pretty. Abigail shifted her focus and saw a dominant aura of pale pink, with random bursts of white, almost like glitter.
