Page 24 of Honey Pot
“And do you remember what Cael said back to him?” Momma asked.
“He—” I stopped to laugh. “He put both hands on his hips and said…” I inhaled tightly, the fuzzy feeling of the memory flooding my chest.
Momma repeated it back to me. “You misunderstand how powerful love can be.”
“I don't even know where he learned the word misunderstand, but the look on Ryan's face had been priceless. That man walked out to the barn, dragging Honeybug with him, and not an hour later, you had a brand new bed made from wood and filled with blankets for that bird,” she said.
I stayed quiet for a long time, unsure how to respond to her story.
“Here's what I know about Cael Cody,” Momma said over the phone. “And no matter how different he may be, granted, he's been through a lot, Lovebug,” she added, as if I could forget the hole that his mother had left.
“His love has the ability to move mountains.”
I chewed on the inside of my lip for a moment before responding. She wasn't wrong. Cael had and always would be a force of nature, but I used to be the breeze, the birds, and the sun. Now I am the mountain, hard and cold.
“What if I forgot?” I asked her. “How to love.”
“It's like riding a bike, Baby,” she cooed.
Once she hung up, I set the phone down on the couch beside me and tried to sort through the thoughts she had left me with. She had forgotten one crucial detail of the story.
The bird never flew again.
It became dependent on Cael and, like a typical child, he grew bored of it.
Ryan had to kill it two weeks later because it couldn't feed itself.
Love hadn't been enough.
CODY
Most of the day was a blur. I spent a few hours training out the kinks in my shoulder with Silas watching my every move. The recovery had been hell so far. Without drugs to dull the burning roar that vibrated through the stretched and bruised muscle, it was healing slower than we had initially estimated.
I’d be lucky if I were confident enough to play during spring camp.
But I wasn’t going to give up. I had made a promise.
New season, new Cael.
That was before Clementine smashed back into my life without remorse. Now, my thoughts strayed from healing, training, and school. All of a sudden I could only think of her, and it was going to drive me insane. As we pulled back up to the Nest, the truck engine dying was barely enough to distract me from the walking nightmare I’d suddenly found myself in.
The smell of lavender burned at my nose.
The sun felt too hot and the breeze was sticky on my skin as I wandered around to help Van bring the groceries in. He lifted two bags from the back of his truck in unison with me. We had gotten the stuff to make lasagna because it was one of the only meals the two of us knew how to make that was appropriate for a family dinner.
I shifted uncomfortably in my skin at the thought of sitting across a table from Clementine, with her thick brown hair, big doe eyes, and pouty smile. I sighed and bit down on my tongue to ground myself in reality as my mind wandered into dangerous territory.
I’ve dreamed of that night with her for seven years, never trying to replicate it with random partners but always chasing that high. I never found it. I came close with Dean, but there was still something missing. Longing, maybe? The explosion of young love that I had been so blind to until it was too late.
Mama had said it was for the best that it took us so long to realize, because it would have been a lot harder to leave her if we had. It was hard anyway.
My mind might not have been aware of it, but my heart had been in love with Clementine Matthews since we were born. Connected by a rough, invisible string, we had always been two halves of one whole.
I rubbed at the frayed bracelet on my wrist. Over the years I had patiently waited for it to fall off, for it to succumb to the abuse I put it through, but it never did. The small strands of thread held strong and outlasted every binge, every blackout, and every game.
“You alright?” Van asked, and when I looked over at him, we were standing in the kitchen.
I’m sleepwalking, I wanted to say to him.
