Page 18 of Honey Pot

Ryan cleared his throat. “Ms. Matthews.” He struggled to call me that, it was written all over his tired face. “Please, stay at Dansby. Interview the boys. I promise you that you’ll get better results in a space where they feel at home.”

“You make them sound like gremlins, should I be scared about getting them wet?” I smiled.

“Yes,” Silas answered for Ryan. “And definitely don’t feed them after midnight.”

“Alright.” I laughed gently and turned to look at Ryan for a moment, considering the softness of his usually demanding voice, and nodded. “I’ll have my bags brought over.”

“Perfect, now if you’ll excuse me…” He left his own office and Silas clapped his hands together.

“Lucky you.” He wiggled his eyebrow at me. “Getting to witness a famous Cody family blow up so early in the morning.”

He had no idea who I was. I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or offended that I had never been mentioned. Maybe a little of both.

“They seem at odds with one another,” I said.

“Not sure I should be talking family politics with a reporter,” he retorted.

I completely understood his cautious approach. Over the last year, the Hornets ball team had been put through the wringer more than once.

The local papers, as well as the NCAA circuit, seemed to love the drama that surrounded the team; from Arlo King’s messy life on and off the field, to the coaching staff and team record. The Hornets have been a nest poked more thanonce. I would have to be gentle with them to get anything of interest for the piece on them, and I wasn’t leaving until I did.

“Off the record,” I said with a soft smile.

“Something about the look in your eyes tells me you are never off the record, Mary.”

I stifled a laugh, shifting in my high heels, and nodded. “I suppose you’re right to assume that. How about we start with the house? Dansby?”

“The gremlins call it the Nest.”

CODY

Iran up and down the hill four times before collapsing on the stairs of the Nest. Sweat dripped between my shoulder blades and my lungs burned so severely I thought for a second that I might stop breathing.

Clementine.

The next breath I took was shaky and shallow.

I sat up on my elbows and stared down the driveway. For the last seven years, she had been too far away to reach, and she had been less than five feet away from me this morning.

I ran away.

I fucking ran away.

“Shit.”

I climbed the steps into the Nest and stripped out of my clothing along the way to the shower. There were very few people in the house that hadn’t seen my ass and, frankly, I didn’t care much.

“Cody,” Silas called from behind me. “Why are you butt naked?”

I don’t turn around, “because I’m going to shower, Grandpa.”

Silas cleared his throat.

“What?” I grumbled, facing him without hesitation, and crossed my arms over my chest. “Of course,” I huffed under my breath, finding Silas and Clementine standing there with her bag over her shoulder, smiling. I covered myself with my hands as her brown eyes trailed down the expanse of my naked body and back up to my face as her head tilted to the side.

Anger, heartbreak, loneliness.

The need to numb it.

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