Page 133 of Honey Pot

Opening them out of order was torture. The next one was worse.

Clem, I don’t know if I can do this. Mama keeps denying food and won’t let me help her anymore. I’m so fucking angry all the time. She just keeps asking for Dad, and he won't leave his office. I don’t know what to do. The doctor said she’ll be gone by the weekend…

“I didn’t realize he was all alone when Mrs. Cody died.” I folded up the short letter announcing her death and leaned against her shoulder.

“It’s funny how a little perspective can change everything,” Momma cooed and ran her hand over my hair.

“How do I rewrite seven years of unanswered questions?” I asked them with tears in my eyes and both of them stared back at me without a solution.

CODY

NEW YEARS DAY 2025

Christmas came and went, and with it went the stinging feeling in my chest and the regret that chewed away at the back of my mind. The locker room hummed with anticipation and enthusiasm as they prepared for the game, but my thoughts were lost somewhere in the mad rush, and they had taken my raw joy for the game with them.

It wasn’t even a real game, there were no stakes here, and yet…

I was terrified to let them all down, head barely above the water, I’m treading water in the deep end while everyone waited and watched with life preservers for my head to slip beneath the surface.

“Brave face you got there, handsome.” Ella sat on the bench beside me as I tied my shoes.

With a tiny nod to my head, I pressed my lips into a tight line and looked up at her.

“Are you sure you want to do this today?” She asked me.

“And disappoint everyone out there?” I dropped my head and finished tying my shoes but my gaze lingered on the floor. My thoughts were far away from where I was. “We’ve been preparing for this for months. If I don’t go out there today…”

“No one would blame you,” Ella finished the thought a little differently than I would have. “Misery.” She reached out and pushed my chin up to look at her. “Make the call, I’ll take the blame. It’s as easy as me saying you aren’t ready. But don’t force yourself, it’s not worth it.”

Her fingers never left my chin as she held my eyes. It didn’t feel as simple as justdeciding. It had been nearly five weeks since I spoke to Clementine. I’d stood in the airport for so long staring at that departures board that Arlo bought a second ticket just to come to find me.

I had been arguing with myself over buying a ticket to Texas or just letting her go.

It ended with me silent in the passenger seat.

The article was posted two weeks later, exactly how she had written it, and everyone at Harbor had a field day. Dad had framed the front page and hung it up in his office next to the photo of us and Mama. The only other memory he had ever hung. Silas’ father went nuclear, storming the halls of Harbor like it might solve a problem or fix the damage the article had caused. I wasn’t sure why it was a big deal, it wasn’t as if it slandered them in a way that the sports community hadn’t seen before. It was common knowledge that the owners and committee members didn’t care about anything but money.

Silas explained that it had nothing to do with the article. Apparently, a dinner had been held with his Grandfather that involved a two-hour berating about the meaning of baseball and how Silas’s father had destroyed what Hornet’s Baseball was intended to be. There was internal grief in the family and, given Silas’s recent mood, it was about more than just business.

The television piece that aired was clearly pieced together by an outside source. It was professional and almost cold. Watching all the guys give sound bites from the couch at the Nest. No footage of me to be seen, we had never finished our interview. The lack of emotion in the TV interviews made my mind wander to Clementine; whether or not she had kept her job or was still with Julien . I had almost gotten on a plane for the second time in a month just to know, but I couldn’t clear my head long enough to make a choice.

Decisions had never been my strong suit. Everything good in my life up to that point had always been chosen for me. All of the bad things that shaped me had been my own. But when I asked Arlo what I should do he told me that he couldn’t make the choice for me.

So I stayed. I didn’t call, I didn’t bug her. Out of habit, I wrote five more letters. They never saw the mailbox; instead, I tucked them into the drawer in my room and pretended that I wasn’t completely devastated without her.

But I could do this.

My focus shifted to helping Silas and much to my dismay, organizing the exhibition event had actually been interesting. I had learned a lot about what it took to throw such an extravagant game. It was more than just showing up in a fancy suit and flirting with old ladies to stuff the pockets of the owners. It was booking hotels, deciding on themes, creating schedules, and calling vendors.

Today was important.

It was a game that packed the seats no matter how bad the previous season had gone, a game that set the tone for spring training camp and the season ahead. Weaponizing spectators' needs for drama and giving back to the community. Every year all the ticket sales from the rival exhibition game went to a different foundation.

My only job was to step foot on the field; we had worked too hard for me to chicken out now.

It was also the first time I had played in a professional setting since the accident. Ella was nervous, but my shoulder had passed every test she put it through. I was physically ready. There was no pain, not even after a full team practice. Sure, I was sore, but it was the normal kind of sore—the good kind that made me feel accomplished when I finally rolled into bed at night.

Ella was waiting for an answer, so I tapped two fingers to her wrist, letting them hang lightly against her skin. “I can do it,” I said.

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