Page 52 of Honey Bee Hearts

“Again,” Rhett commands when it dies off. “Until you feel lighter.”

Another scream rips from my throat, shredding me from the inside out, scrapping my insides and leaving them raw. I’m crying now, tears trickling down my cheeks to drip on my shirt. Every part of me splits wide open as I let the pain out, as I give it somewhere else to go. My voice cracks, a sob cutting into my scream.

“I’ve got you,” Rhett whispers in my ear. “I’ve got you.”

The sobs take over and there’s no way I can scream again. My legs give out, but Rhett just gently lowers me to the ground, his arms around me in reassurance. He holds me as I cry, as the pain comes pouring out of me. There’s no way I could have stopped it. I’m not sure I’d have wanted to if I could.

Through my tears, I watch as Jinx stares out at the Green River Basin, her own eyes glistening. She was always the strong one, the one untouched by anything, but I know she’d have liked this place. She would have felt at home here.

Rhett threads his hand through mine, his fingers fitting perfectly. I don’t think anything of it, not until he squeezes once, twice, three times.

Just like Jinx and I used to do.

I freeze. “Why did you do that?” I choke out, turning in his hold to look up at him.

“Do what?”

“Squeeze my hand three times?”

He frowns and shrugs. “Just thought it would be reassuring.”

“But why three times?” I ask again, turning further to better look up in his eyes. He’s practically holding me in his lap right now, but all I can think about is how he somehow stumbled upon the three squeezes.

“I don’t know,” he says. “Why?”

I stare at him, meet his pretty blue eyes, take in the clarity there he usually hides behind his jokes and flirting. Right now, here in this sunlight, it highlights his face, the freckles across his cheekbones, the copper in his beard and hair. “No reason,” I whisper.

He reaches up and wipes at the tears streaking my cheeks with his thumb, gentle with his rough skin against my soft. “Do you feel better?”

I sniff. “A little.”

“Any time you wanna come do this, just let me know,” he nods. “I’ll come with you. Honestly, I need to come out here more. There’s something about the mountains that makes everything seem smaller.”

He looks down at me again, his eyes on mine. He reaches up and smooths my hair off my face. We still, and something passesbetween us. I’m not surprised when he leans down and presses a kiss on my lips so sweet, I didn’t think him capable of it. I’m tempted to fall into it, to let him kiss me until I’m screaming for a different reason, but I pull back instead, wincing.

“I should. . . I should tell you that Gunnar asked me on a date,” I tell him. “And I accepted.”

Rhett rolls his eyes, and I frown. “Of course, he’d ask first. I swear that man has no patience. He’s been that way since high school. You know he was always jumping the gun in football practice?”

My frown deepens. “You’re not. . . mad?”

“Why would I be?” he laughs. “Just because you accepted a date with Gunnar doesn’t mean you can’t have fun with me. I’ll happily take you on a date if that’s what you want.”

“Seriously?” I rasp, pushing out of his lap. He lets me go without complaint, leaning back on his arms to highlight just how pretty he is, even in his silly beekeeper suit.

He flashes a cocky grin up at me. “Fable, you could be dating all four of us and I wouldn’t care. You could kiss us all, have a good time, and I wouldn’t change my mind. Hell, throw in Mel, too, if you want. Whatever floats your boat.”

I push my hair back from my face as if that’ll help me make sense of the situation more. “So, you four normally. . . what? Share?”

He laughs. “No. We don’t often have the same taste in women if I’m being honest. Trent doesn’t date and prefers to stay to himself. I don’t do dating, but I’ll kiss you anytime you’d like and take you for a good time. Colt usually has a much different type than you, of the black widow variety. And Gunnar? Well, you seem like Gunnar’s type. He’s always liked the sweet ones.”

I lean back in confusion. There were a whole lot of tidbits dropped in those words. Why doesn’t Trent date? What exactly is a black widow? Why is it that Gunnar seems to like the sweetones? But the only question I ask has nothing to do with the others.

“What do you mean that you don’t date?” I ask, watching him carefully.

He shrugs. “I don’t like commitments. Ain’t no telling how long we’ve got in this life, you know?”

He grabs for me again and I move back. “So if we slept together, it wouldn’t mean anything to you?”

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