Page 50 of Honey Bee Hearts

I freeze where I’d been reaching forward to help and meet his eyes. I try to say the words, but I choke on them. He immediately sets down the frame and takes my hand.

“Sorry, I asked,” he backpedals. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I. . . I want to tell you,” I admit. “I just. . . I haven’t told anyone. . .”

He tugs me into a hug. It feels weird in our beekeeper suits, but I hug him back. Somehow, it’s exactly what I need, and I never expected that from Rhett. When he goes to let me go, I hold him tighter, not wanting to see his face. He doesn’t complain, his strong arms looping around me and holding on.

“She died,” I whisper. The bees buzz around us, adding to the drama of my whisper. “Eight months ago, Jinx and I went to our local ren fest.”

“Ren fest?” he asks.

“It’s like medieval times stuff where everyone dresses up and is in character. You can buy stuff, like turkey legs.” I pause. “We’d been drinking, so we knew we couldn’t drive. We called a rideshare. We were both in the back seat when. . . a semitruck ran a red light.” He squeezes me tighter. Jinx flickers in the middle of the bees, her eyes sad as she watches us embrace.

“We. . . we rolled,” I choke out. “They had to cut us out. The truck. . . it hit the driver’s side. I was on the other.” I take a deepshaking breath. “They told me she died instantly, that her neck broke on the first impact.”

“Were you hurt?” he asks.

I nod into his neck. “My leg. I lost it after the wreck. Too damaged to repair. But I was also beat up pretty badly. Two months in the hospital.”

“I’m sorry,” he rasps, his arms warm around me.

“Jinx, she booked this trip as a surprise for my birthday. I didn’t know until the email showed up,” I rasp as I finally let him go and step back. He lets me go without a fight. “I almost cancelled it, but I’m glad I didn’t.”

He tilts his head to the side, studying me. “That’s why you can’t ride in a car without driving.”

I wince. “My therapist says I have PTSD. If I’m driving, I’m in control.”

He sighs. “I understand. More than you know.”

“You do?” I ask. I’m reminded again of Mel’s brief mention about his family, so I reach out and take his hand.

“When I was a kid,” he starts, sitting down on the ground. I follow, sitting cross-legged in front of him. Sitting amongst the bees feels therapeutic somehow. I suddenly understand why Rhett likes being out here with them. “When I was sixteen,” he tries again. “I was a hellion. Always getting into trouble,” he admits. “My parents, despite that, never treated me as a problem child. They knew it was a phase, that I’d grow out of it given enough time, but I was always causing mischief.” He picks at the grass in front of him. “I had a little sister, nine years younger than me, and she was always sick. They’d wanted me to go with them to the doctor, but I’d refused, wanting to go to school and hang out with my friends. So they went without me.” He looks down, refusing to meet my eyes. “I got off the bus in time for the cops to show up with the news.”

I let out a deep rattling breath. “That must have been hard as a kid.”

He laughs, but there’s no humor in the sound. “You have no idea. I almost lost the ranch. . . a few times. If it weren’t for Trent, I’d have run it into the ground. He’s my adoptive brother, so he was around for all of this. The others did their best to help, too.”

“What?” I blink, surprised. “I didn’t realize you and Trent were brothers.”

He shrugs. “By adoption we are. We don’t exactly broadcast it. My parents adopted him when he was sixteen, and he’s two years older than me. He was in a shitty situation and my parents, they were saints. Adopted him when no one else wanted to. I think that loyalty they earned is what keeps him here with me. God knows I ain’t ever earned it myself.”

I tilt my head. “He seems comfortable here.”

“But is comfortable happy?” he asks, tapping my beekeeper hat with his finger.

“That. . . I don’t have an answer for that,” I reply honestly. Because sometimes, yes, comfort is happiness, and sometimes. . . it can be a crutch. “So how did you save the ranch? You got more bees?”

His face darkens and I immediately realize I’ve asked a question I shouldn’t. I open my mouth to tell him never mind, but he taps me on the knee and stands.

“Let’s not talk about things like that,” he says, reaching down to help me off the ground. “I have an idea, Wild West Barbie. Come on. The bees will still be here when we get back.”

Chapter 28

Fable

Rhett loads me up in the side-by-side and we end up going back to the big house where he immediately drags me over to his truck and tosses me the keys. We take off our hats, but the bee suits stay on.

“Follow my directions, Wild West Barbie,” he instructs, before directing me out of Circle Bee and onto the road.

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