Page 79 of The New Place

Deal with all of that another time.

“It won’t if I don’t have a clue what’s going on and you’re not talking. Not to me and not to Beverly. Abbot, please. I have Peggy.”

Peggy. There are leftover cups of brönnti crème in the refrigerator, and surely Peggy will ask for one before dinner and another after. She negotiated one with her breakfast this morning, sticking her finger in the cup to get all of the custard out, while Ned implored her to please use her spoon.

Abbot won’t be here tonight when she wheedles Ned into extra desserts. He’ll be back in Portland, eating alone in his silent kitchen. I don’t see why the details matter, he wants to say, but Ned will push. He’s different from other men Abbot’s been with. He cares, which is entirely inconvenient right now.

And he’s looking at Abbot with frustration clear on his face.

Abbot considers simply leaving and the relief in that, and the aching hollowness that will follow like a whip when he sits in his car knowing he walked out on Ned.

Yes, it was easier with men who didn’t care about him, because he didn’t have to care, either. He’s eschewed that option with Ned, and by doing so, backed himself into this corner. He might be able to stand here silent, but eventually he’ll have to say something, or⁠—

Or, when it’s Ned, feels entirely too painful, a discomfort that’s nearly worse than summoning words, or at least equal to it.

“Beverly was my mother’s friend,” he finally manages.

There. Simple enough.

Ned nods, his eyes softening. Then he stands there, just watching.

Waiting, Abbot realizes belatedly, for more. Abbot doesn’t want to say more. He wants to get in his car, turn it northward, and start driving.

“So, can you work for her?” Ned asks finally. “Will you be okay?”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Yes, this seems very fine,” Ned says. “Abbot, hon. You don’t talk about this stuff, and I’m completely left in the dark⁠—”

“I just told you⁠—”

“No, you told me about Beverly. You didn’t tell me anything about yourself.”

“I did.”

“I want to know about you.” Ned grips Abbot’s hand. His fingers are warm, and his thumb moves over Abbot’s knuckles.

Abbot wants to tug his hand back, but he imagines the hurt that will fill Ned’s face and forces himself to hold still.

“Can you tell me how you’re doing, having her suddenly back in your life again?”

It was always sudden. Beverly flying in while his mother underwent a surgery, a round of treatment, a stay in bed for far too long. His father at work, and Beverly in the kitchen when Abbot came downstairs in the morning, waiting for him there after school.

He can’t share that with Ned. Not the strain of those days, the confusion and fear, the…

I know it’s scary to see your mom with all the IVs and monitors, but Henry, if you’d just visit her⁠—

No, he can’t tell Ned that. Ned, who is always so there for the people around him, so damnably present like he is right now, refusing to budge and showing up for his daughter, his family, and now Abbot, when Abbot could barely bring himself to do the same.

He can picture the fall of Ned’s face if Abbot told him anything about those years, the man he was then, the choices he made. He pulls his hand back. “I should go.”

“Abbot.”

“Please,” he whispers.

“Yeah.” Ned rubs the bridge of his nose and Abbot’s skin is cold without his touch. “But we need to be able to talk about this. You need to. And I know it’s hard, but Abbot. It’s me. You can talk to me, and I want you to talk to me, alright?”

Abbot nods, just to get Ned to finally fall silent.