Page 8 of Foxed Up

It took him a little while to answer, but when he did, he sounded tired. "Avery?"

"Yes. Can you give me the number?"

He was silent a second. "For Quinn Green?"

"Yes, please."

He was silent a moment, then I heard papers rattling. He read it off to me, and I memorized it instantly. "Thank you."

"Not getting in trouble, are we?" he asked mildly. He clearly didn't think I could get into trouble even if I wanted to.Ha!

"No," I said.

"All right."

"I'll call you back."

"Don't bother. I'm too tired to talk tonight."

Despite myself, a thrill of misery ran through me. "Oh."

"Tomorrow." He barely held back a yawn. "Sorry, Foxy." His phone clicked.

Damn. He almost always called me at night. I liked the chats, even when we couldn't have more. It felt intimate to talk to him when he was falling asleep. Some of his tough guy defenses were down, and I nearly always felt close to him, even though I wasn't.

With a heavy heart, I called the number Jon had given me.

"Who is this?"

"Mr. Green? Hi."

"Yes. Who is this? You a cop?" He sounded suspicious — suspicious and exhausted.

"No sir. Well, yes. I'm — I'm the fox. I didn't mean — anyway, I wanted to apologize for what happened. I don't want to come any closer, though. I've left you some things here as an apology, for your family, for you. Er, I hope you can pick them up. Or, er, I could load them back up and take them right to your house if you want." I hoped he didn't want that.

"What did you get?" He sounded amused, like maybe my babbling discomfort pleased him. I noticed he hadn't accepted my apology, but then I hadn't really given him the chance, had I?

"Just some food items," I said in a small voice.

"Where are you? I'll come and get them."

"It's a lot. Um. I'm near where you live. I'm all turned around, though. My headlights are on. Shall I just go, so I'm not in your territory?"

He let out a soft snort, as though even his indignant amusement couldn't be too mean. Rabbits really aren't a fierce people, overall.

"I'll come and see," he said. I heard noises, like scuffling, and then a door, and before long, a long figure appeared in my headlights. He still held the phone, and spoke into it. In my ear, his voice said, "You really were close." He took a sniff of the air. "That's a lot," he added, sounding surprised.

Awkward silence.

"I'll take it from there. Great," he said in a flat voice.

He couldn't bring himself to say thanks. I couldn't bring myself to say sorry again. I wanted to be at home, right now.

"Great," I agreed. "I'll see you around." Then, after I hung up, I winced at that choice of words. Neither of us wanted to see each other "around."

He waved at me as I backed up my vehicle. Other people were appearing now, probably his neighbors or family members. I waved back, got myself turned around with much difficulty, and drove home.

I was yawning my head off. I thought pitifully of Jon, asleep, and wished I could be there with him, his arms around me, possessive and strong even if he was snoring just a teeny bit.