25. Arizona
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Arizona
A bee settles on my shoulder before I even make it through the gate.
I stop where I am while Abilene looks up from the row of wooden hives and smiles. “Congratulations.”
I frown at her. “For what?”
“He likes you.”
I angle my head, trying to catch a glimpse of the fuzzy little inspector making its way across the fringe of my jacket. “I feel like there should’ve been an orientation before we reached this stage of the relationship.”
She laughs. “He’s just curious.”
“That’s exactly what people say right before the main character gets attacked.”
The bee climbs onto the brim of my hat, decides I’ve lost its interest, then heads toward a patch of purple wildflowers.
I finally breathe again. “Well, that could’ve gone worse.”
“It usually does with tourists.”
“I am deeply offended.”
Abilene laughs. “You’ll recover.”
“I’ll try.”
I look around while she returns to checking the hives.
The honey stand sits beside the country road with hand-painted signs advertising fresh honey, beeswax candles, and wildflower soap.
Beyond it, wildflowers spread across the meadow as bees drift from bloom to bloom, completely absorbed in whatever keeps an entire colony running without meetings or paperwork.
“I’ve never been this close to beehives before.”
Abilene lifts the veil resting around her neck and hands me another. “You’ll be fine. They’re focused on their work.”
“Easy for you to say.”
“I’ve only been stung twice this year,” she assures me, and I stare at her until she winces. “Yeah… I probably should’ve opened with a different fun fact.”
“You think?”
She laughs, and I can’t help smiling with her.
I’ve only run into Abilene a handful of times at town events and the Sunday potluck, but talking to her always feels easy. She never fills every silence just because it’s there, and she never rushes a conversation either.
Everything about her carries the kind of patience that probably comes from spending every day working with thousands of tiny creatures that refuse to care about anyone’s schedule.
So when she invited me to hang out with the bees, of course I said yes. I just hope my adventurous side hasn’t brought me one step too far.
Once we’ve zipped ourselves into the protective suits, she leads me between the hives. “No sudden movements.”
“So all I have to do is ignore every instinct I have.”
“Now you’re getting it.”
“I walked into this with impossible expectations.”
She shakes her head, smiling as she eases the lid from the nearest hive.
Thousands of bees cover the honeycomb, moving together so naturally that I can’t tell where one group ends and the next begins. They weave around each other without colliding, each one heading exactly where it needs to go while the colony carries on as if we’ve always been standing here watching.
I lean closer to the frame while bees weave around us, and my eyes catch the neat rows of honeycomb packed with more activity than I can possibly follow. “That’s incredible.”
“They really are,” Abilene says as she tilts the frame toward me. “See those larger cells? That’s brood. Those are the babies.”
I nod, although most of my attention stays fixed on the thousands of bees crawling over the frame inches from my face. “You trust them a lot.”
“I do.”
“How?”
She slides the frame back into the hive before answering. “They’re predictable. They usually tell you what they’re going to do if you pay attention.”
“I wish humans came with that feature.”
Abilene nods. “They surprise you instead.”
“I’ve noticed.”
“They can surprise you in good ways, too.”
I think about that while she closes the hive, and I find myself smiling before I even realize I’ve done it.
“Yeah,” I admit. “I guess they can.”
We move from hive to hive while she checks each frame, scrapes away extra wax, and talks me through every step without making me feel like I’m hopelessly out of my depth.
She explains how different flowers change the flavor of the honey, how bees pass directions to one another with dances, and how every colony develops its own quirks, which still feels impossible until she starts pointing them out and I begin spotting the differences myself.
By the time we finish the third hive, I realize I haven’t worried about getting stung in ages.
“I can’t believe these words are coming out of my mouth,” I tell her as we carry the equipment back toward the shed, “but this is actually a lot of fun.”
She flashes me a grin over her shoulder. “I knew you’d end up liking it.”
“What gave me away?”
“You strike me as the kind of person who agrees to the adventure before asking how much danger is involved.”
I wince. “That feels aggressively accurate.”
“I’ve heard the cliff jumping stories.”
I groan. “Annie sold me out?”
“She sounded impressed.”
“She was supposed to learn the opposite lesson.”
She laughs while I accept the loss with whatever dignity I have left.
We settle beneath an old oak overlooking the flower fields, and Abilene pours lemonade into mason jars she’d brought from the house. I take one drink and stare at the glass before looking back at her. “Okay, this is ridiculously good.”
“I’ll accept ridiculously.”
“I’d defend this lemonade with my reputation.”
“I appreciate your commitment.” She laughs again, shaking her head as she lifts her own jar.
We sit together while bees drift through the flowers and a few clouds wander across the sky. Neither of us rushes to fill the space between us, and I realize I don’t feel the need to either.
My gaze slips to the gentle curve of her stomach before I look back at her. “You don’t have to answer if I’m being nosy…”
She follows my glance and smiles. “The baby?”
I nod. “I thought I noticed.”
“We’re having a little girl.”
My grin comes without any effort. “Really?”
“Mmhmm.”
“How far along are you?”
“Far enough that she likes reminding me to stop working whenever I ignore common sense.”
Her hand settles over her stomach, and the smile on her face makes it impossible for me to look anywhere else.
“Congratulations.”
“Thank you.”
I swirl the lemonade around my jar and glance at the hand resting over her stomach. “You already look completely gone.”
She laughs. “You mean in love?”
“Yeah.”
“I absolutely am.”
The smile she wears makes it hard to imagine she’d rather be anywhere else.
“Does it ever scare you?” I ask. “Knowing everything’s about to change?”
Her fingers brush lightly across the front of her shirt. “’Course it does. A baby turns your whole world upside down.”
“And you’re okay with that?”
“I wouldn’t trade it.” She takes another sip of her lemonade before looking at me again. “You’ll always find reasons to be scared if that’s what you’re looking for. Turns out you’ll find plenty of reasons to be excited too.”
I roll the cold glass between my hands while a bee bumbles past us toward the flowers.
“You’ve been asking a lot of questions about babies and settling down.”
I smile over the rim of my jar. “I’m nosy. I like collecting other people’s stories.”
“You’ve made a career out of it.”
“I have.”
She studies me for another sip before asking, “You’re still planning to leave once your Silver Bit gigs are over?”
I tip my head from side to side. “I was.”
Her eyebrows lift. “Was?”
I let out a small laugh. “Listen to you catching one word.”
“You picked it.”
“I know.”
She grins. “So?”
I glance out across the flowers before looking back at her. “I’ll be leaving at some point. I mean, I’ve stayed longer than I usually do.”
Abilene smiles over the rim of her jar. “You’ve also spent most of that time at Dusty Spur.”
“I like the food.”
“I’m sure that’s the only reason.”
I grin. “Sadie has a habit of making plans that somehow involve me. And the horses don’t exactly hurt either.”
She tips her head. “Funny. I would’ve guessed the cowboys ranked somewhere above the horses.”
I laugh into my drink. “The bonfires are nice.”
“They certainly are.”
I narrow my eyes at her while she fights a smile. “You’re having way too much fun with this.”
“I’ve barely started.”
I shake my head and laugh into my lemonade. “You’re impossible.”
“So I’ve heard.” Abilene smiles, taking another sip before adding, “You’ve done a remarkable job talking around Dusty Spur without mentioning the men who live there.”
Heat creeps into my cheeks. “I slept with Red the first night I got here.”
She nods like I’ve just told her I stopped for coffee on the drive into town. “I had a feeling.”
I pick at the label wrapped around my jar. “Then Willy happened.” A grin tugs at the corner of her mouth, but she keeps it to herself. “And then Emmett.”
That finally breaks her composure, and she laughs into her lemonade before setting the jar on the grass. “Oh, sweetheart.”
I cover my face with one hand. “Please don’t look at me like that.”
She blinks innocently. “Like what?”
“Like you’re trying very hard to behave.”
“I am.”
“You’re failing.”
“I disagree.”
I laugh despite myself and drop my hand back into my lap. “It sounds a whole lot messier when I say it out loud.”
She studies me over the rim of her jar before asking, “Does it feel messy?”
I think about answering, then let out a breath instead.
“That’s exactly what I can’t figure out.
” I sigh. “I keep telling myself they’re three men I happened to meet in another town, and then Sadie runs over to show me another drawing because she can’t wait for me to see it.
Willy says the most ridiculous thing I’ve heard all week, and I laugh so hard I almost spill my drink.
Emmett looks at his daughter like she’s the greatest thing that’s ever happened to him, and Red makes one last walk around the ranch before bed because checking every fence and gate comes as naturally as breathing. ”
I peel at the label wrapped around my mason jar. “They’re good men.”
“They are.”
I let out a breath. “That’s exactly why they’re dangerous.”
She smiles at me. “Before things progressed with the boys next door,” she laughs as she says this, “I spent years telling myself freedom meant I didn’t need anybody.” She brushes her hand across her stomach. “I wasn’t searching for forever either, but it showed up anyway.”
I don’t have an answer waiting for her because every thought in my head circles the same question.
“I always leave.”
“I know.” She watches me over the rim of her jar before adding, “Today you’re talking like that bothers you.”
I stare across the flowers until the silence starts feeling dangerous, then clear my throat. “I think I need a picture with the bees. To help me remember my time here.”
A few minutes later I’m standing beside one of the hives in an oversized white bee suit while Abilene lifts my phone. “Smile.”
“I look like a marshmallow that’s questioning every decision it’s ever made.”
“You look adorable.”
“I was aiming for fearless.”
“You missed by a mile.”
She takes another picture while I’m still laughing, then waves me closer with a honey frame, catches another when I pretend to inspect a bee like I have any clue what I’m looking at, and nearly drops the phone when one crawls onto my glove and I yelp loud enough to startle myself.
“Oh, that one’s definitely staying,” she says between laughs.
“I need to review the evidence.”
She hands me the phone, and I scroll through the pictures before shaking my head. “Okay… I hate how much I love these.”
“I knew you would.”
I pull out my phone while Abilene carries jars of honey toward the roadside stand and open my messages.
I attach three pictures before typing to my sister.
Arizona: Guess who survived her first day as a beekeeper?
The typing bubble pops up almost right away.
Daisy: You’re either turning into a Disney princess or you’ve finally lost your mind.
I smile as I type back.
Arizona: Both are entirely possible.
Her reply appears a heartbeat later.
Daisy: You look really happy, Ari.
My thumb hovers over the screen while I read the message again, then I slip my phone into my pocket and look across the meadow.
Bees drift through the wildflowers, Abilene laughs to herself as she stacks another row of honey jars, and the little town I meant to pass through keeps tugging at my heart strings.