#mphfpc book

Claire piped up from the back, “It was the little music box he made. The one with the skeleton that dances.”

You groaned.

The kids exchanged quick glances, and before you could say anything else, Olive blurted, “We thought maybe you could tell him?”

“Why me?”

Bronwyn shuffled her feet. “Because, well, he doesn’t yell at you.”

“He yells at me all the time.”

“No, he doesn’t.” Hugh muttered under his breath.

You pointed a finger at them. “You’re all insane. This is Enoch we’re talking about. Enoch.”

Emma crossed her arms. “Exactly. Which is why we need you.”

It didn’t take long for you to realize there was no escaping this, not when all their guilty faces were practically pleading with you. So, with a deep breath, you headed down to Enoch’s workroom.

“Come in.” his voice drawled when you knocked. He was hunched over his workbench, fiddling with a doll’s porcelain face. He didn’t look up until you cleared your throat.

“Uh…so…” you began, rubbing the back of your neck, “there’s something I need to tell you.”

His eyes finally met yours. “Go on.”

You braced yourself. “The kids accidentally broke your music box. The one with the dancing skeleton.”

There was a long pause. You could almost see the moment his jaw tightened, his fingers stilling on the doll. Normally, this was where the storm would hit, but instead, he sighed softly and set the doll down.

“Was it an accident?” You nodded. “Then it’s fine.”

“...It’s fine?”

“Yes, Y/N. It’s fine.” He leaned back in his chair, shrugging like this was no big deal. “I can make another one.”

You waited for the sarcasm, the cutting remark, but it never came. Enoch just looked at you, eyes softer than you’d ever seen them, like the whole thing really was no trouble at all.

“Well, okay then,” you said slowly, still half in disbelief. “Uh, sorry anyway.”

He smirked faintly. “You don’t have to apologize. Just tell them to be more careful next time.”

You didn’t even make it to the kitchen before you were ambushed. “So?” Olive demanded.

You blinked. “So what?”

“He didn’t yell at you, did he?” Hugh pressed, buzzing faintly with bees as if they were in on the gossip.

“No…?”

Emma grinned like she’d just solved a mystery. “Told you. He’s got a crush on you.”

Your face heated instantly. “What? No. Absolutely not.”

Bronwyn tilted her head innocently. “Then why didn’t he get mad? He gets mad when I so much as move something an inch.”

“Because it was an accident!” you protested.