Page 102 of Honey Pot

Mama had sent me up to drop off a crate of vegetables and I heard her crying from the porch. Anger flared inside of me like I had never felt before in my entire life and I saw red. Kiefer’s hands were all over her and she was begging him to stop.

You should be grateful.

Tears streamed down my cheeks and Mama's hold loosened on my hair.

That asshole had hurt my Clementine and who knows what he would have done–

“He’s lucky I only hit him once,” I choked out.

Dad went to stay at the Matthews’ house until they got back from the city, but Clementine had gotten off the floor without saying a word to me and marched to her room. I sat at the bottom of the stairs and listened to the shower run for nearly an hour before I called Mama. She rushed over and, the second she saw my face, she called Dad.

Mama got Clementine out of the shower and tucked in bed, but I could still hear the haunting sobs that echoed from the loft. I would never scrub the sound from my memory.

All I wanted to do was find that asshole and hit him again, over and over, until he begged me to stop, and then hit him again. My hands curled into fists at my side as the nausea built in the pit of my stomach.

“Violence isn’t ever the answer,” she gripped my chin, “butI’m sorryyou were right about that boy; you shouldn’t have to carry that guilt.”

“I don’t feel guilty, I feel angry,” I snapped at her, and her brows pinched together.

“My boy is never angry,” she whispered. “You don’t even know how to feel that way. Dig deeper, Honeybug, ‘cause it’s something else eating at you.” She tapped her finger once beneath my chin.

“Alright, maybe I feel a little guilty or sad, but what was I supposed to do? She was already spending less time with me, and if I spent all that time talking about how horrible Kiefer was…”

“She would have fought you on it,” she finished my sentence.

“So what was I supposed to do?” I practically whined. “Make her sad?”

“You did your best and you protected her when it mattered, Honeybug,” Mama reassured me. Truck lights flashed at the Matthews’ house and my heart shattered as we watched them both hurry into the house.

“I don’t know what to do now. Do I go see her?” I asked, stumbling through unknown territory.

“Give her the night,” Mama suggested. “We can go over in the morning.”

I nodded, excusing myself, and went to sit in the chair that faced the front windows to watch her house. I wasn’t going to get any sleep anyways so I would wait until the sun came up to make sure Clementine was okay.

CODY

Istretched out my sore muscles, groaning into the pillow to stifle my annoyance that I was awake. It didn’t matter how many times we slept in these bunks; it never got easier. My shoulder itched, the pain still a constant thrum after bad sleep. I rolled over carefully so as not to wake Dean; old habits dying hard in the form of both of us needing comfort.

Ella had snuck into our room again, tangled against Arlo’s chest on the top bunk. Van was butt naked, with his blanket around his head blocking out the sunlight. It was insane how much I loved my little family, and it was indescribable how thankful I was for them.

The smell of coffee and pancakes filled my nose, and I knew Dad was awake and cooking breakfast. Thanksgiving was important but, even more so, the only tradition that stood strong was him cooking breakfast the day after.

He had done it at home, he had done it here, and he continued to do it for Mrs. Shore even after Mama died. She insisted that he didn’t but he seemed to enjoy the tradition. I snuck from bed, slipping on a clean loose sweatshirt and a pair of sweats. I looked back at Dean for a moment, so peaceful in his sleep, and I took the chance to be grateful for him, to appreciate the person he helped me become despite my constant pushback. All the times I proved that bad luck and bad karma were real and dragged him down with me and he did it with a smile on his face.

I loved him, and I knew I always would. Now it was my turn to help him become someone who could love himself above everyone else.

It was obvious that the next weeks would be hell, wading through losing Clementine all over again, but I was finally in a place where I could extendmy love and focus to other people. For once, I didn’t feel like I was going to self-destruct in the face of stress and disappointment.

And I owed everything to Dean and I’d walk through fire to prove it.

I inhaled a deep breath before saving Ella from the show of Van’s ass and covered him with a blanket. Arlo stirred against Ella, his eyes opening to see me as I backed away. To my surprise, there was no scowl as I stared at him, hoping that he’d understand that even if it ended in disaster, I still had to try.

He nodded and curled back into Ella, closing his eyes as I closed the door behind me.

Clementine had said Zoey put her up in a room on the main level, so that’s the first place I’d look. I sauntered by the bathroom, stopping to check my appearance in the mirror and using my hands to fix the blond flyaways that had formed during my sleep. From the top of the stairs, I could hear Clementine laughing, and the sound made my heart explode. A sweet melody that I had become so attached to that the thought of losing it again only made me sad.

I took the stairs two at a time, excitement rushing through my sleepy muscles as I rounded the corner. My feet tripped over each other just to see her, but she wasn’t alone. My Dad stood with his hand around a coffee cup, leaning against the counter as the pancakes cooked, and with a smile on his face talking to… Julien.

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