Page 7 of Beehive Yourself
SAWYER
Hallie was right; we haven’t seen much of each other since she started working a week ago. Her hours are long and I still don’t understand her schedule, but Imiss her.
I’m pissed at the realization—the thought totally ludicrous, but no less true.
Also true? The fact that we now havea show.
She found a couple of hours here and there to catch up on a reality show that, despite my best effort, I was unable to ignore. I’m not sure I’ve ever paid attention to one of those shows, let alone watched one. But fifteen minutes in, I was invested with a ton of questions that had her asking if I just wanted to restart the season with her.
I didn’t, but I did catch up on all the drama while she was at work.
I need to get a grip.
Instead of stewing all morning while she sleeps, I force myself outside to tend to my bees. The sun is hot and I’ve already gotten six new emails from the bee fanatic newsletters I subscribe to—a fact that will absolutely go with me to my grave.
Everyone is amped aboutcelebratingNational Honeybee Day, whatever that means. I don’t need the fluff, just the information.
It’s how I ended up trading in my traditional hives for the ones that allow you to extract honey through a spout. I researched the hell out of the design and had been more than relieved when it delivered on the promise not to stress out the bees.
When Joe had retired from the restaurant, he and his wife made plans to move to Florida to be with her sister. I’d become the proud—reluctant—owner of several hives overnight, and the learning curve had been steep but I managed.
Hell, I even like it now.
I don’t advertise it, but there’s a steady stream of neighbors and customers at the shop that put in orders for jars of honey. Plus, I make sure Mama has plenty to take home whenever I see them.
We didn’t keep bees in Blackstone Falls. Mama had some chickens while we were growing up, dogs and cats, and a massive vegetable garden that my siblings and I had weeded without complaint.
Well, not within earshot of Mama.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, and after taking a few steps back, I pull it out and check the screen.
JENSEN: (picture of Remi sitting in the grass with a honeybee stuffy)
JENSEN: You’re the reigning favorite
SAWYER: As if there was any doubt
INDIE: I heard that
SAWYER: I meant you to
INDIE: How does he get to be the favorite?
SAWYER: I think you mean how did I get to BEE the favorite…
INDIE: Am I hallucinating or did you make a punny dad joke?
JENSEN: No, I saw it too
SAWYER: It’s not a big deal
INDIE: I already took a screenshot so you can’t deny it.
Draggingmy palm over my mouth, I can’t quite stifle the smile. I’ve never been particularly close to either of my siblings, but now that my brother has a little girl and our sister is due any day, I’ve tried a hell of a lot harder to pull my head out of my ass and be there for them.
It’s little moments like these that make me regret being secluded for so long. If it wasn’t for Walker dragging me out every once in a while, there’s no telling how bad I’d be.
“Morning.” Hallie’s sleepy voice has my head whipping up to find her adorably rumpled on the porch, a coffee mug in one hand as she shields her eyes from the sun with the other.
