Page 96 of Whispers and Wildfire
“But what?”
He glanced at me as we pulled into her driveway. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”
“Not at all.” I unfastened the seat belt, grabbed the takeout we’d picked up from Copper Kettle Diner, and opened the door.
“Need a ride home?”
“Maybe. I’ll text you if I do.”
“All right, man. Make good choices.”
I chuckled. “Thanks, Mom.”
He grinned as I got out and shut the door.
With a deep breath, I watched him back out of the driveway, then I walked up to her front door.Here goes nothing.
I knocked and waited. No answer. I knocked again, louder this time. Maybe she hadn’t heard me. I waited. Still nothing.
Where was she? I pulled my phone out of my pocket, but she hadn’t messaged me. We’d said six, and it was a few minutes past. Was she home? Was she all right?
I knocked again, hard. “Melanie? You okay?”
No answer.
That was alarming. Had the sense of foreboding actually meant something was wrong? I tried the doorknob, and it opened.
“Mel?” I called, poking my head in. “Are you there?”
She didn’t answer. She’d probably chew me out for going in, especially if she was just in the bathroom or something. But we had plans. I wasn’t too proud to admit this was making me worry about her.
I stepped inside and shut the door behind me. The entryway led to a living area with a couch and coffee table. The dining room had no table, and the kitchen counters were almost bare.
Hesitating, I listened. No noise. Was she home? Was I an idiot for being there?
Probably. But I walked farther into the house anyway. A short hallway led to the bedrooms. I moved quietly, ready to duck if she jumped out and swung at me again. I had enough bruises. I didn’t need another fist in the face.
“Mel?” I whispered.
One of the bedroom doors was slightly ajar. I moved close enough to see through the crack.
There she was, lying on the bed, asleep. She was fully dressed, and the bed was made, like she’d flopped down and fallen asleep without meaning to. Her arm draped over her forehead, some of her hair was stuck to her cheek, and one foot hung over the edge of the bed.
Such a beautiful mess.
For a second, I thought about taking a picture. Mostly because I knew she’d hate it. But I decided not to provoke her. She’d paid good money for me. The least I could do was be nice.
I took our dinner to the kitchen—sandwiches with extra pickles for Mel—and put them in the fridge. Then I eased myself onto the couch to wait for her to wake up.
It didn’t take long. I grinned with amusement as I heard a commotion coming from her bedroom. It almost sounded like she’d fallen off the bed. She started muttering to herself,banging things around, and a moment later, she burst out of the bedroom.
“Where’s my phone?”
She rushed past me into the kitchen and started digging through her purse.
“Why do you need your phone?”
“I need to call Lu—” Stopping abruptly, she turned. “You’re here.”
