Chapter 19 #2
“Thank you, Zach. Truly.” Her eyes are a little watery, and I look away, knowing I'll find it hard to hold back if I look at her.
“You've done so much more than you've ever had to. This honeymoon trip, everything with the house. I know you only do it because you want to, but Jamie and I talk about it a lot, and we just—we want to say thank you.”
“Tiff,” I say quietly. “You don't have to thank me for any of it.”
I rub the back of my neck, wishing she hadn't gone there. I don’t give them things because I want the thank-yous. I give them to her because she deserves everything after the way her father treated her. Jamie just so happens to be a lucky benefactor of the situation.
Her mouth opens like she's about to argue, so I cut her off before she can.
“You're family. I take care of my own. That's it. End of story.”
In the background, Ella runs past the camera wearing what looks like a beach towel tied around her shoulders like a cape.
“And if you really want to repay me,” I add, nodding toward the chaos behind her, “just make sure she brings me back one of those giant hats.”
Tiff laughs softly. “A souvenir?”
“No,” I say. “Insurance. If she grows up and decides she likes someone else more than me, I’m going to need proof that I was her favorite uncle once.”
Tiff shakes her head softly.
“You really don’t get it, do you? You’ve been her person since she was born. You’ll always be her favorite.”
“Well, gotta start it young, right? Hopefully, I’ll be able to teach your son a few things about football before Jamie can.”
Tiff smiles, looking down. “Yeah,” she says quietly. “I think he’s going to be pretty lucky to have you around.”
When she looks back up, her expression softens. “How are you doing? You look tired.”
I huff out a breath. “Training’ll do that.”
She doesn’t smile this time.
“And leaving the love of your life behind will too.”
“Probably.”
“Zach.”
I glance away from the screen, rubbing the back of my neck. “I’m good,” I say automatically.
“That’s not what I asked.”
“I’m good, really,” I answer honestly. “I feel a little beat up and broken, but I made the right call to leave the cruise when I did. My new Coach would've probably burned me at the stake if I stayed away any longer.”
“And Honey?” she asks tentatively.
“Would've been happy to see the back of me,” I joke. “She needs the space, and that's what I'm going to give her.”
“Good.” She doesn't argue with me. Instead, she watches my expression for a beat. “As long as you're happy. That's genuinely all I want.”
Am I happy?
How could I not be with everything I've got?
“She's going to figure it out,” Tiff adds before I can go into my own spiral, over-thinking every little thing I could've done differently as though it's a play I'm watching back and learning from.
“Yeah,” I say. “I know.”
That's the saddest part for me. I actually do get it, and I really do think she'll figure it out. It's just waiting for that requires a lot of patience.
“What do you think of this one, Uncle Zach?” Ella asks, pushing herself in front of the camera and showing me a pink sun hat with a sunflower poking out of the top.
“It looks fantastic, Ellie-Bear.”
She spends the next four minutes showing me all these different hats and describing the one she's going to get in Hawaii. I listen to every word of it, amused at all the requirements. Tiff is going to spend a long time looking for this hat.
When Tiff manages to wrestle the phone back to say goodbye, I frown.
A notification has popped up.
New text: Honeycomb??
“Oh, shit. I've gotta go, Tiff. Honey's just texted.” I sit up immediately. I’ve been fucking waiting for this.
“You've got to put a dollar in the swear jar, Uncle Zach,” Ella calls from the background.
“Sorry, sweetie. I love you both.”
I hang up and open the message immediately.
Honeycomb??: I jumped off a cliff today.
I stare at it. My brow furrows and I tilt my head as I read it again.
Then I bark out a laugh, because I have no idea what she's talking about.
Zach: Oh, yeah? Is that a euphemism? Because I distinctly remember last week your knees knocking at the prospect of a zip line.
The dots appear before I've even had the chance to put the phone down.
Honeycomb??: [video attached]
I press play, and the first thing that fills the screen is water. Endless, shifting blue with sunlight shimmering across the surface in sharp flashes. The camera tilts slightly, and then the cliff comes into view.
Holy shit.
Whoever filmed this is standing at the base, which makes the drop look insanely high. The rock face stretches up and up, jagged and uneven, until it cuts into the sky.
“Fuck, no,” I mutter the second I spot her.
She’s standing at the top in an emerald, green bikini. Her hair spills over one shoulder, catching in the wind as she leans forward to look down.
Too far. That’s way too fucking far for her.
She rocks back on her heels and takes a few steps away from the edge.
Good.
But then she turns back.
I can hear her before I see her move. She lets out a high-pitched, nervous laugh, which teeters on the edge of panic. When she appears again, she shakes out her hands like she’s trying to get rid of the fear and drags in a deep breath that lifts her shoulders.
“Ho-ney. Ho-ney. Ho-ney. Ho-ney.”
The chant builds from below, echoing off the cliff, and she inches forward again.
My toes curl in my socks, my whole body tensing, as if I can somehow stop her from here.
Don’t do it.
She steps closer, right to the edge.
Stops.
For a second, she just stands there, looking down at the water.
But then I see it.
The moment she decides she’s doing it.
Her eyes close, her shoulders square, she pulls in one sharp breath—
—and she jumps.
“Shit—”
My heart lurches as she drops, her body cutting through the air faster than I expect. She screams the whole way down; the sound swallowed by wind and distance until she cleanly hits the water.
Gone.
I stop breathing, waiting for her.
The surface ripples, then stills for half a second too long, and my grip tightens on my phone.
Come on.
Come on—
She breaks through the surface with a gasp, pushing her hair back as the people below erupt with cheers.
I exhale hard, as though I’ve been underwater with her.
She’s laughing. It’s loud, breathless, and a little disbelieving. Someone grabs her and pulls her into a hug that lifts her slightly off her feet to spin her in a circle.
She has to shove her hair out of her face twice before she can see straight, still laughing as she wraps her arms around him.
I swallow, gripping the phone as I try to identify the dudebro with his hands all over my girl.
Don't, I tell myself. She needs this. This is exactly why you left. She needed to prove to herself that she could jump off a cliff without you. You do not get to be weird about a hug.
I watch it twice, and I'm so damn happy for her, it's unreal. She did that. All on her own.
Zach: Fuck, Honeycomb. This is the best video I’ve ever seen. How did it feel?
Honeycomb??: Like everything and nothing at the same time. My whole body heated right before I went and then the water hit and it just... I don't have a better word for it than clean. I finally felt clean, and it was the best thing I've ever done for myself.
My thumbs hover over the keyboard as I smile sadly. The best thing I've ever done for myself. I want this for her. I just wish I could be by her side, rooting her on.
Honeycomb??: When I was under the water, and it was just me, and I felt this buzz that I can't explain. It was unlike anything I'd ever felt before.
Zach: That's the adrenaline. Happens to me after a good game.
And sex with you... I leave that thought out because, boundaries.
Zach: I'm really proud of you.
Honeycomb??: Thanks! I'm proud of me too.
Zach: Zip line. Cliff Jumping. What's next? Bungee jumping or skydiving? Both seem equally petrifying to me.
Honeycomb??: Oh, please. I'm not that brave.
Zach: You sure? A week ago you needed handholding on a forty-foot drop. Today you jumped off a cliff alone. You’re fucking fearless.
Honeycomb??: ... yeah, maybe just a little ??
I can hear the smile in it and lie back in the bed, staring at the ceiling. This is probably the perfect time to close the conversation, but I don't want to. She opened this, and I'm not going to be the one to close it.
Zach: Did you write down those feelings?
Honeycomb typing....
The typing disappears, and then it takes her another minute before she responds.
Honeycomb??: A little. I just end up writing about things I'm not supposed to.
Things? Like us? I don't ask because I'm pretty sure she thinks about us as much as I do.
Zach: Write about the cliff. Not the jump. Just before the jump. Write about what happened when you stepped on the edge and the moment you made the decision to move.
Honeycomb??: That is very specific advice from someone who has never written a sentence in his life.
Zach: I'm just telling you exactly what I'd want to read, and if it's what I want, then I have no doubt it's what everyone wants.
Honeycomb??: That's super helpful. Thank you.
Zach: You're welcome.
Honeycomb??: How's Rome?
That's a loaded question. The only answer being ‘would be better if you were here.’
Zach: Good. I'm about to pretend to watch a Carolina Catfish baseball game with Dax.
Honeycomb??: But you hate baseball.
Zach: I don't hate it.
Honeycomb??: Zach. You told me once it was 'a lot of standing around with brief interruptions of running.' You said it at a game. Out loud. To a stranger, who happened to be Tate Sorenson’s brother-in-law.
That is an accurate account of events. The stranger had been very polite about it, considering everything I’d said.
Zach: I've matured. Now, go and write about the cliff, Honeycomb.
Honeycomb??: Zach.
Zach: Yeah?
Honeycomb??: Thank you. For the letter. I've read it a lot, and I still hate that you're right, but…
She doesn't finish it. The sentence just ends there with its comma and its silence, and I lie there and look at it for a while.
I know what the rest of the sentence is. I think she knows that I know. That's probably why she didn't write it.
Zach: I know. Go write.
I lock the phone and set it on my chest.
“Honeycomb,” I whisper, still in disbelief that she jumped off a cliff on her own.
I watch the ceiling for a while, replaying the moment she stepped off the edge.
The hesitation. The breath. The decision.
Honey was always braver than she thought she was.
“Catfish game is starting, Z,” Dax calls.
If jumping off a cliff is what it takes for her to find herself again... then I’ll be right here when she climbs back up.
“Coming,” I say as I get up and head out to the living room.