All our heads whip around.
Colby’s standing there, holding up her phone, and Gemma’s face is frozen in mid-shriek on FaceTime.
“Tell me everything!” Gemma demands, clapping like a psycho.
I choke on a laugh, settle deeper into the old wicker bench, and let the chaos roll over me.
The sun dips lower behind the fields I grew up running through. The smell of honey and wildflowers thick in the air. The taste of sweet tea sharp on my tongue as my family gathers around me.
And for the first time in a long damn time, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.
Chapter Sixteen
Stuck Between a Goose and A Hard Place
“Follow the left curve?” I mutter, narrowed eyes flicking between the gravel drive and roughly sketched diagram clenched in my right hand. “What the hell are you talking about, Bea? There is no left curve!”
The note doesn’t answer—because it’s paper and useless—leading me in literal circles around a massive farm. I have half a mind to just park my car and search on foot, but I’m prettysure I’d get lost almost immediately. Despite all the driving and circles, I’ve yet to see a single other living soul.
When I agreed to help with the Honey Bea Bash, I didn’t realize Bea meant bright and early every Saturday…for the next two months.
Apparently, the summer kickoff festival hosted here is massive, and there’s so much to do, it’ll take nearly every weekend from now until June just to get it done on time.
But I’d already said yes. And really, what else am I doing with my free time? It’s not like I have a social calendar to protect.
Sighing, I toss the map on the floor. It’s getting me nowhere.
Rolling my window down, I turn up my favorite playlist and scan the sprawling property. It’s huge—land stretching out as far as I can see, unraveling in every direction. In the distance, I can make out the outlines of quite a few buildings, and even a few silos, beneath a gray sky.
It’s the kind of beautiful that steals the air right from your lungs.
I smile, heart skipping, and breathe deeply.
The scent hits first—wet alfalfa and freshly tilled soil, rain-soaked earth clinging to every inhale. There’s a tang of coppery mud, sweet grass, and something floral, but not overpowering.
Beneath it all, there’s the warm, unmistakable musk of animals, hay-damp fur, old wood, and manure baked into the bones of the place.
Robin’s farm smelled like this—muddy and fresh and alive, a little wild around the edges. It wraps around me like a hug, and for just a second, I swear I can feel her with me.
My foot lifts off the gas when I pass three cats being chased by a—
“Is that a goose?” I breathe, eyes wide, smile wider.
A second later, a brown puppy with dopey ears flies after the goose, stumbling over its too-big feet.
Blindly, I reach for my phone and hitrecord, knowing Abby will lose her mind when she sees how cute the country can be. I may or may not be secretly trying to convince her to come out for a visit—via Heart Springs subliminal messaging.
The cats bounce over fence posts and around a tree, looping twice before crossing the road again. The goose never loses sight of the bunch—picking up pace, honking wildly, giant wings spread out at its sides—the yapping dog not far behind.
“God, Abby!” I laugh, wiping my eyes with my shoulder. “You’d seriously love this—AH! Fuck! Shit! Oh my God!”
My car thumps across rocks, bouncing and scraping at a slight downward angle. The steering wheel jerks, and my phone goes flying in my desperate panic to regain control of the vehicle—but apparently,it’sdrivingmenow…directly into a steep but shallow ditch.
I slam on the breaks, and my right leg locks up, sending a sharp pain up to my hip.
A second later, the car stops moving, so I throw it in reverse and slowly hit the gas. The engine revs. The wet sound of tires spinning through mud but not catching fills the air—nothing happens.
I try again and again, but eventually, give up and shift back into park.
