Page 27 of Honey Pot

“I didn’t get to give this to you,” he said, digging something from his pocket. It was a small box, almost identical to the one I had gifted to him over Christmas.

“Is it an MP3 player?” I teased and he laughed with me.

“Don’t be mean.” He shook his head and pick at the cake with his fingers, popping pieces into his mouth as I pulled apart the box to find a small threaded bracelet in all sorts of pinks. I could have never imagined that he would take the time to make me one. I smiled down at it so hard that my cheeks hurt.

“It’s so pretty, Cael. Did you make it yourself?”

I could tell he had even before he nodded. It was sloppy, and some of the knots were loose, but it was perfect, andhe had made it for me. He set the cake down and helped me tie it around my wrist carefully, his fingers brushing against my skin, warmer than the breeze blowing around us.

“I’m never going to take this off,” I said to him and stole a bit of cake as he picked the plate back up.

“Now we match,” he said with a mouth full of cake, holding out his wrist.

CODY

Ifought to keep my eyes in my head as Dad wandered through the front door of the Nest, with Silas at his side. He rarely stepped foot in the house anymore. It reminded him too much of Mama. She was in the walls of this place, and it made him sick to his stomach.

It was written all over his face.

But this wasn’t about his feelings; it was about putting on a show for Clementine.

That alone made me angrier than it should have.

“Interesting.” Arlo approached from behind me. “I don’t remember the last time he came for family dinner.”

“He never did,” I said.

“Not even once.” He braced himself on the island beside me, dressed in a clean black shirt and jeans. We both knew well enough what was going on. Arlo had been there through all the blow ups, he was tangled in our story as much as Clementine was.

His hair was getting longer, and he had it pushed back off his face. He had shown up an hour ago with Ella on his back, giggling and smiling. For the first time, I understood the level of jealousy that others felt.I wanted that. I could hear Clementine’s laughter deep inside the sweet sound of Ella’s, and it bothered me. I curled my fingers around the edge of the counter.

“Gimmick,” I said to him. “That's all this is.”

“Maybe he’s turning a new leaf.” Arlo sank onto his elbow to catch my eyeline. “Kitten,” he warned softly. “Behave tonight, blow up tomorrow.”

“Have you met her yet?” I asked him, ignoring his wise guidance.

“No.” he shrugged. “Ella said she saw her this morning visiting the stadium. Silas took her on a tour.”

It felt like I was stuck inside a tank that was slowly filling with water and had no way out.

The water pooled around my feet, warning me of what would come.

“Behaving isn’t an option,” I said, scooping Mitchell’s bowl of salad into my arms and backing away from the island. “Sorry.”

“Cael,” Arlo growled, but followed my lead into the dining room we never used.

I leaned down, pressing my lips to Ella’s forehead. She had dressed nicer than usual, wearing a dark blue button-up and jeans. “Hey, Pretty,” I whispered, before I started toward where I usually sat.

When she was able, Mama had forced us all to partake in a family dinner once a week. She called it team bonding outside of baseball and, for all the groaning that happened when she started it, it quickly became a coveted pastime between us all—until she died.

We ate in the dining room, but never together.

And no one ever sat in her chair.

I dropped the bowl to the table. “Move, please,” I said to Clementine, who sat with her phone in her lap. Her brown hair was tugged back into a messy, short bun that left chunks of brown hair around her face.

“Excuse me?”

---