I really fucking hope she sits with me.
Even if just to have her calming presence for a second.
Even if I can’t hold her like I used to when I was struggling. Does she remember that?
And to my luck, she does, settling herself on the other end of the couch and stretching her bare legs out onto the coffee table. Probably doesn’t even realise how teasing she is. Or how easily my body relaxes the moment she sits beside me. Watching her tense body deflate into the cushions is a gift, and I pretend she gets the same feeling of comfort from my presence too.
‘Thank you,’ she says, holding up the glass before taking a sip. Another whoosh of relief leaves her lips after. ‘You’re always looking out for me. Not just with the house but with helping when I’m stressed, cooking for us, and being a friend for Noah. And buying him all the toys in Colorado.’
I chuckle but shrug, acting like her words don’t make my body want to shake with pride. ‘Least I can do. You’re helping me too.’
‘How?’ Honey’s face creases and she draws her legs up onto the couch, the briefest flash of her white panties beneath her T-shirt torturing me. Coupled with how much closer her bare legs are. How easily I could brush my fingers along that soft skin of hers.
I swallow, my confession coming easier when I meet her curious eyes. ‘You give me the faith to not let this place consume me with all its bad memories.’
She edges closer, knee knocking mine and staying there. Connected to me. Giving me her touch to anchor me. ‘What do you mean?’
‘The house. The ranch. It’s mine. I know it has been for a while, really. But I … I want to find a way to love it. Except every time I’m here, all I see are the bad parts. Or I did … before you and Noah.’ Her lips pop open at my honesty. ‘That’s why I never stay here. I have an apartment in town that Wolfman lives in. I always stay with him. Only here now ’cause of my damn leg.’
I laugh to myself, shaking my head, as Honey sits there, just listening. Giving me the space to talk freely and let out the darkness that clouds me like she used to. ‘Y’know it’s funny—when Noah drew over my cast, it kinda made me feel better. Like he was drawing something good, something happy, over something bad. My broken leg still made me feel fucking useless, but I didn’t hate it so much every time I looked at it then. I wish I could do that with this place. Then I might find a way to stay.’
Silence weighs on me as her eyes flick between mine,searching. But then something strikes through them, her whole face lighting up with whatever idea takes her mind.
‘Wait here,’ she suddenly instructs, planting her glass on the table and leaving the couch. She finds Noah’s backpack hanging by the front door and rummages around inside, pulling out a pack of something I can’t figure out in the dark.
On her way back, she flicks on the lamp beside the couch and eagerly returns next to me. Something about her energy buzzes now, a subtle vibration that has my own body on edge, anxious to be drawn in and away from my drowning thoughts. Excitement sparks in her eyes as she holds up a pack of crayons between us.
‘You said you wish you could draw over the bad memories you had here. Well, why don’t we?’
My eyes dart between her and the crayons. ‘You want me to draw on what—the walls?’
Honey shrugs but her grin is too enticing. ‘Why not? If it might help?’
‘You should sleep, Blue. You don’t need to be staying up with me—’
She slides her hand around mine, instantly cutting off my words, and pulls me to a stand with her, fingers slowly seeking out the gaps between mine. My eyes widen, a shot of energy coursing through me now we’re connected again. God, I’ve wanted to feel her skin properly against mine again so badly.
She asks, ‘That time your dad threw the bottle at the wall, and it smashed—what wall did it hit?’
She … remembers that?
Does she remember the way I held her after I told hertoo? Under the showers, in the boys’ locker room? How we sat for ages, just the two of us, as she propped me up when I had no strength left?
I swallow down the memories clogging my throat and answer, ‘Dining room.’
Determination hardening her features, while a mischievous twinkle finds her eyes, Honey leads me to the dining room slowly. She flicks on the light and scours the walls, her hand tightening around mine when she must spot the subtle chunk out of the wood on said wall, and the slight discolouration around it. To anyone it’s just a sign of age. To us it’s fear frozen in time.
I glance down from the pain of the memory, knowing it’s forever left a scar on my cheek from the glass that cut me. When I do, my eyes find our still intertwined hands and it grounds me. Reminds me I’m strong enough to stay standing, because I have her strength too.
I know I can’t stop your dad, but when you’re not feeling whole, I’ll give you my strength. Just like you give me yours.
Reluctantly, I let go and take a couple of crayons from her. ‘So, what do I draw?’
‘I don’t know,’ Honey muses, studying the wall with folded arms that stretch her T-shirt tighter over her full chest—not that my eyes had fallen there … But it is another good distraction. ‘Maybe something that reminds you of better memories? Like football? Or maybe a cool place you’ve visited while travelling for bull riding?’
I nod, considering the wall and her words, then start drawing the first thing that comes to mind with the yellow crayon.
‘Stars,’ she notes, baby blues twinkling brighter than thethousands of stars that guarded over us that night in my truck bed.