Page 131 of Honey Pot

“And then Julien showed up for Thanksgiving,” I groaned and leaned against the booth.

“Ryan has never known when to keep his nose out of something; he’s still just a loudmouth, meddling teenager,” Momma cursed him.

Bobbi giggled. “Did Cael lose his mind?”

“I wish… he would have given me a reason to hate him,” I said.

“Why are you looking for reasons?” Bobbi scoffed. “There is no timeline of our friendship that exists where you didn’t love Cael. Even under all that bitterness, you still could never find it in you to hate him.”

“What do I even pay my therapist for?” I rolled my eyes.

“So, you just left?” Momma asked. “It sounds like to me you had made up your mind long before Thanksgiving.”

“I had, but it didn’t mean what I wanted was what Cael needed. The decision to stay felt selfish with everything he’s going through. Ryan confirmed as much,” I said and yipped when Momma pinched my underarm. “That hurt.”

“Good, will you stop listening to that man? He hasn't been right in the head since the day Rainey got sick, and he’s not the authority on your heart or Cael’s,” Momma scolded me with a huff of air. “I raised you better than that.”

“Don’t piss off Momma Matthews.” Bobbi put both her hands in the air, and I was met with a wink.

“Do you have any Advil?” Momma asked, and I pointed to my purse without taking my focus off Bobbi.

“Ryan’s sheer stupidity aside, what do you want?” She asked, but before I could answer, I was smacked on the shoulder.

“Stop it, I’m emotionally traumatized. I don't need you beating me up too.” I laughed and shoved her away playfully, my eyes trailing down to what she had hit me with.

“What are these?” Momma asked, holding the stack of letters up.

“Forty of the three hundred and something letters Cael has sent me over the last seven years,” I said without breathing.

“What?” Bobbi leaned across the table, snatched them out of her hands and pulled the elastic back without the careful hesitation I had.

“Wait,” I yelped like she had snapped me with it and she looked up with concern across her face. “I haven’t looked at them,” I blurted out.

“That boy went fullromance novelon you, and you haven’t read the letters?” Bobbi scoffed, “Are you serious, right now?”

“I–” The words were silenced by the sound of ripping paper. “Whatever is in those will just break my heart more than it already is. They won’t change anything.”

“The hell, they won’t.I’mstill confused about the details and why you’re sitting here and not in Rhode Island with knockoff Nick Carter.” Bobbi pulled the first letter out and unfolded it, her eyes scanning the pages. She looked up at me and back down with a giggle. “Did you really?” She gasped under her breath. “Clementine Mary Matthews.”

“Bobbi!” I tried to snatch the letter from her.

“I’m just kidding.” She handed the letter over.

I smiled at his chicken scratch and ran my fingers over the messy ink.

Clem,

I can’t decide if writing these first thing in the morning or after a tortuous day of school is better. English class is hell without you doing my homework, and I swear the teacher can’t understand a damn thing I’m saying to her half the time. The accent isn’t that thick, but everyone seems to tease me about it anyway. The gym teacher callsme Cowboy… I don’t even own a cowboy hat. Every time I think I’m getting the hang of things I picture you lying in the grass, bathing in the sun with your bottom lip between your teeth as you concentrate on your homework. You derail every thought I have. I miss you.

Cael.

“You derail every thought I have,” Bobbi swooned, pretending to faint and sinking against the table as she wrapped her fingers around the stem of her martini glass. “That boy was down bad.”

“Open another, Lovebug,” my Momma encouraged me with love in her eyes.

Dear Clem,

Six months of sliding these letters in the mail bin with Susanna every morning and coming home to them gone. I just hope you’re getting them. Every time the phone rings, I race Mama to it just hoping to hear you on the other end. Dad says I need to start my life here, that chasing your ghost around is affecting my school work. He’s wrong, he always is, but arguing doesn’t help me or him. He’ll never understand how hard this is. He wasn’t the one ripped away from the one person who loved him. No, he dragged her across the country to this hell hole. Graduation is in a few weeks. I had some girls ask me to prom, but there’s only one girl I ever wanted to take,and she won’t even call me back. That was mean, I’m sorry.

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