Page 9 of Happy Trails & Honey Pots

5

ZOE

Bath.Wine. Binge-watchLove is Blindor anything on Bravo or some other trash reality TV.

Tonight was my first night off in eight days, and I planned on making the most of it. After dinner, I was going to bubble bath it up. Drink copious amounts of Merlot. And rot my brain watching people whose lives were more messed up than mine.

“What you had was perfect, beautiful, and special. It was true love. But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t have more perfect, more beautiful, more special, and another true love in your life. You’re too young to give up on happily ever after, darlin’.”

Mrs. Beaumont’s words had been floating in and out of my head for the past two days. She didn’t understand. No one did. She was right about one thing; what Austin and I shared was beautiful, it was special, and it was perfect. It was true love. But it was also once in a lifetime. I knew that I was never going to have that again.

It didn’t matter if there was a handsome, funny doctor who checked every box on paper; he wasn’t Austin. No one was. Until I stopped comparing every man I met to him, there was no way Icould ever move on with someone else. But I didn’t know how to not do that.

Because no one had ever made me feel the way Austin did, he made me feel safe and dangerous, protected and independent, calm and crazy. All he had to do was look at me, and nothing else mattered. It was like that from the first time we locked eyes. It was us against the world. I knew he would do anything for me. He’d go to the end of the earth and back for me.

So why did he have to go back to clear that final building?

Tears began to build, but I wiped them away.

No. I was not going to go there. Austin had to have his reasons for what he did. I was not going to question them. He promised me he’d come home to me and AJ, and I knew that if it were up to him, he would have kept that promise.

Walter hummed as he made his way down the hall to the kitchen. I noticed he was limping a little and using the walls for balance. I’d brought him home a walker and cane six months ago, but they were both collecting dust behind his door. The man was proud. Too proud to go to physical therapy or use any sort of assistance that might prolong his ability to walk without needing a wheelchair, but what did I know? I was just a nurse.

“Mmm, mmm, mmm. Somethin’ sure smells mighty good.” He inhaled theatrically as he stepped beside the oven.

Daisy, my four-legged sous chef, stirred at my feet, making room for Walter.

“It’s your favorite.” I stirred the cheese into the macaroni.

Over the past few months, Walter had lost a few pounds, and his appetite wasn’t what it once was. I realized that both changes had coincided with a health kick I’d started, which involved cutting out dairy and gluten. Since he refused to go and see a doctor, I figured I’d put him on a diet for high blood pressure and arthritis-related inflammation. My plan hadbackfired, though, and I feared he wasn’t getting enough calorie intake thanks to my bland, no salt dinners.

So tonight, we were having fried chicken, green beans, and my county fair blue ribbon-winning mac and cheese. The only “healthy” concession I was making was that I was cooking the fried chicken in the air fryer instead of oil in the skillet.

“You spoil me somethin’ rotten. I don’t know what I did to deserve you, my girl.” He patted my arm as he hobbled by me on his way to his La-Z-Boy.

“The feeling’s mutual.” The truth was, I didn’t know what I’d done to deserve him. After Austin died, I’d stayed in school while caring for a toddler. I had nowhere to go, but Walter said that this was our home, and it always would be. That was almost ten years ago.

I stirred the mac and cheese as I turned to AJ, who was seated on the island. “How’s the homework coming along?”

AJ shrugged. He’d always struggled in school. Then, last year, he was diagnosed with dyslexia. Since that time, he’d been working with a tutor who specialized in teaching literacy skills and strategies for people with dyslexia. His teachers were all aware of his diagnosis, and they accommodated him to support his learning differences and give him a greater chance to succeed.

He still didn’t love school, but since his diagnosis, it had gotten a little bit easier.

My phone buzzed on the counter. I glanced down and saw it was a message from my mother, reminding me that we were having dinner on Sunday. I saw my parents once a month for Sunday dinner. Some people might find it strange that I lived less than a mile away from my parents and only saw them once a month, but that was still one time too many for me.

The only reason I subjected myself to three hours of judgment and patronizing disdain, wrapped up in a bow ofsuperiority handed down to me from a very high horse, was for AJ. He wanted to know his grandparents, so I indulged him in the once-a-month dinner.

I would never allow him to spend time with my parents alone. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. I had no problem with him seeing my dad without me, but that would never happen because my mother knew she wasn’t permitted unsupervised access, so therefore, she would not allow my father that privilege either.

My mother was a cruel, distant woman who weaponized religion. She raised me in a hell fire, and brimstone household where everything I did was a sin. If I wanted a cookie, it was gluttony. If I wanted to take a nap, it was slothful. If I wanted new clothes for school, it was pride. If I thought that someone had a cute hairstyle, it was envy. If I wanted an allowance, it was greed. If I looked at a boy, it was lust.

Needless to say, when I came home pregnant at sixteen years old, she disowned me, called me every name in the book, and kicked me out with the clothes on my back. I thought, for once, my dad would have stood up for me, that he wouldn’t have let her say those things or allow her to make me homeless, but he stood by and didn’t say a word.

Thankfully, Walter allowed me to come and live with him and Austin. Two months later, my dad agreed to go in front of a judge and sign a paper allowing me to marry Austin, who had signed up for the Marines. He did it without my mother knowing. I still wish I could have been a fly on the wall when she found out about it.

The timer went off, indicating the chicken was done.

“Time to set the table.” Using tongs, I pulled the chicken out of the air fryer and set them in the towel-lined basket. Daisy sniffed the air, licking her lips with approval.

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