When we let go, she plops her hands back into her lap and takes another deep breath. ‘Georgia Hart is a … a character I created.’
‘Like, in a book?’
‘Yes. She, um … she’s kind of like an escape for me. Like, if I could be anyone else in the world, she’s who I’d be. If I need to get away, and I can’t, I write as if I’m her.’ Honey turns her gaze to the large window beside us, as if she can see that sanctuary of Georgia Hart’s life in the distance,beyond the gym track and football field. ‘It gives me a little hope, y’know?’
I follow her eye-line, wondering if I might find some hope lying there too. But there’s nothing, just a school and a town that turns a blind eye to kids like us.
‘I’m … I’m sorry you need that,’ I say, unsure which of us I’m directing it at.
The strange urge to take Honey’s hand for comfort hits me. Which is weird as fuck because I don’t think I’ve ever held a girl’s hand before.
So, I brush it off and say, ‘I like it, though. I sure could use an alter ego I can escape to when things get too much.’
A tiny divot appears between her brows as she considers me. I prepare myself to grimace at the pity in her eyes, to come up with some way to divert the conversation away, but the light dims in them instead. Because she doesn’t pity me—she knows pity can’t save us. Pity doesn’t stop the pain.
No, Honeyunderstandsme.
And the thought has me swallowing.
Because I don’t think I hate the feeling.
‘What does Georgia Hart do?’ I ask.
‘Oh.’ Honey gets flustered again, blinking incessantly as she averts her gaze. I decide I rather like the way she looks with flushed cheeks—that I’ll keep trying to make her blush. ‘She, um, sings. She’s a—she’s a musician.’
‘Yousing.’
‘Yes, but Georgia Hart gets to travel the country doing it.’ Pain wipes away all trace of her smile, leaving sorrow in its wake. ‘She’s … free.’
‘What about when you go to college?’ There’s no wayHoney isn’t heading off to some Ivy League with her fantastic brain.
‘Oh … well, my father wants me to go somewhere nearby, where I can maybe stay at home, help around the house still. I don’t think he’s too bothered about how good the college is, just as long as I’m trained to be a good wife like my mom—’
‘Yeah, but what doyouwant, Blue?’ Rage pricks inside of me, and for once I’m oddly grateful to have a father who couldn’t care less about me.
Honey’s mouth snaps shut, shock plastering her face, like she’s never been asked that question before. Like she can’t remember the last time anyone cared about her opinion.
‘I …’ She glances out the window once more, then turns her shining eyes back to me. ‘Ivy League is out of the question, really. We’re not needy enough to get much financial aid, but there’s no way my father could afford or would even pay to send me to any. But … my mother has family in North Carolina, and Powell University is supposed to be good. I think I’d like it there.’
‘You should apply.’
‘Maybe … I’ll think about it.’ She gives me an unconvincing nod, but there’s a hint of possibility swimming in her eyes. ‘What about you? Who would your Georgia Hart be?’
‘Oh, well obviously my guy would be the Professional Bull Riders world champion.’ I straighten up my shoulders, throwing a grin back out as the visions flash through my mind—the glory that would come from knowing you practically conquered fear for a living. ‘Not a bull he couldn’t tame, that one. No fear at all. That’s the dream.’
‘He sounds great.’ She presses her lips into a soft smile. ‘Well, I just swapped my initials around so maybe yours could be …’ Her eyes circle around, cogs turning in her mind. Then they flare and she suggests, ‘Noah Stetson?’
I chuckle. ‘Stetson—like the hat. You’re a genius, Blue.’
This time, Honey grins wider than I’ve ever seen before, and I swear the room becomes a little brighter. ‘Yeah. Noah Stetson, it suits you. Bravest cowboy in the world.’
9
Honey
Pulling up to Sawyer’s ranch is like a hallucination. I never thought I’d set foot here again. I try to push the memories of that fateful prom night away, grateful that at least that was in a field at the back of Lucky Star’s land, far away from the main house I’ve just parked in front of. He still has the same old truck from all those years ago, though. Fortunately, there’s enough chaos from my current life that is in the forefront of my mind to distract me.
I can’t believe the damage a few hours of water can do.