Page 71 of Honey Pot

“I really like her,” Clementine rested her hand on my face, sensing the pause in my enthusiasm. “You did good.”

“Mmm.” I said quietly. “She was missing a Clementine though, I can’t keep up with her half the time. She needed someone who knew as much as her.”

“Oh so this wasn’t a date, it was a gift that came with more strings.” Clementine whispered, “it was sweet but you can’t tie me down here Cael. I have to go home eventually.” My heart clenched painfully.

“That wasn’t my intention,” I said truthfully. “I just wanted to do something nice with you,for you.”

“Mission accomplished,” she purred as the lights went down and the movie started.

“Clementine,” I whispered, wanting to get something out that didn’t make me sound like a total idiot or have her running in the opposite direction whenwe had started to make so much progress. But her skin on my skin, it blurred my common sense and suddenly. “You know I love you right?” I said, swallowing bile that rose with the words.

She stared at me for a long while and, for a moment I was unsure she heard what I said as the previews blared through the speakers. But I could see her answer in her eyes, hear it in the unanswered silence. I could feel it thrumming through her fingertips that still lingered on my jaw as she turned to watch.

I knew she loved me back, with every fiber in my body I knew.

I just needed to figure out a way to remind her so that she’d stay in Harbor with me.

So she’dwantto stay.

CODY

“Come in,” Dad called from his desk, his scruff-covered face dropping into annoyance as I wandered through from the front office. “I don’t have time for this today, Cael. King is a grown man, and I didn’t make the decision for him. If you wanna fight someone, fight him.”

The dirty black cap he always wore was flipped backward, and he was tucked down into a navy Hornet’s hoodie that looked like it had never been washed.

“Over it,” I sighed under my breath. I wasn’t really, but there wasn’t much else I could do about it. I wandered through the office and picked up one of the frames on the shelf, running my fingers over the old photo of him and Mama.

She looked so young, her long dark hair curled around her skinny little face. Big blue eyes so clear they might as well have been the sky.

“Sometimes I forget how pretty her smile was,” I said, setting the frame down.

“Don’t know how…” Dad grunted and flipped a paper over without looking up at me. “You carry it around with you.”

I looked over at him, hoping maybe he had taken his attention off his work, but his pen scribbled across the paper mindlessly. I licked my bottom lip, frustrated and feeling forgotten moments after he’d reminded me that I had Mama’s smile.

”Why do you do that?” I asked him, slumping down on the couch.

“What?”

“Pretend like you have any interest in me when in reality you can’t even look at me for more than two minutes.” I rolled my eyes and laid my head back against the couch. It smelled like two years of him sleeping on it, and it annoyed me.

“Cael,” he said, low and warning, as if I was the problem. “What do you want? If you came to talk me into letting you play…”

“Not everything is about baseball, Dad,” I hummed, trying to keep my cool as the sounds of his scratching pen echoed through his silence. I dug my fingers into the arm of the couch, trying to control the anxious frustrations that rolled through me like a tidal wave. Irritation grew tenfold every time the clock ticked forward a second.

“This was a mistake.” I pushed off the couch.

“If it's not Arlo, and it's not baseball…” he started, and I laughed so loudly that it drowned out his huff as I cut him off.

“It’s about Clem,” I said finally, her name bubbling from my throat like a rock that had been lodged there.

Dad finally looked up from his work.

“What did you do?” He set the pen down as his green eyes traced over my body, looking for signs of drug use or anything that might suggest I was acting erratically.

“I didn’tdoanything.” I rolled my eyes. “I just need some advice about something Imightdo.”

“And what kind of advice do you think I can offer you?” Dad rubbed his hand over his face, never taking his eyes off me.

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