Chapter 25 #2
Dropping my head, I grind my teeth just listening to this asshole.
“Let me be crystal clear. We aren’t. You let them put that story out to damage my career in hopes of what?
” I look up again, my future brighter now than it’s been in years.
“Twisting my arm to make me bend to their demands? Fuck that and fuck you. You’re fired for fucking me over with the team and league.
” I hang up and tuck my phone back in my pocket.
I feel a lot lighter already, a hundred and eighty pounds lighter, actually. Puts a new meaning in free agent. He’s free to piss some other athlete off because it won’t be me anymore.
I head for the woods to find where they snuck off to.
The trees grow denser the farther you walk into them.
I find a path they’ve worn into the earth and cut over to it to follow.
Is it wrong to want to see what they’re up to before announcing my arrival?
It’s not spying per se. They took my son with them.
But my curiosity is getting the better of me the deeper I travel into the woods.
The infamous shed I was warned about doesn’t slow me down.
I can’t imagine it has more than a few rusted tools stored in it, given how it’s barely standing.
Walking a bit more, I stop when I hear their voices.
They’re too far to understand the conversation, but the laughter is distinct.
I only walk a little farther before the trees widen apart, giving me a peeping Tom’s view of the wide-open field ahead and making me smile.
Seems odd to warn me when it’s only a bee farm. The apiary is bigger than I imagined. Now I’m wondering if the Honey Hive shop is only using their own actual honey. Summer mentioned Winter being a mogul in the making. I’m beginning to believe her.
I start walking again, this time making myself known. “Summer?”
“Over here.” I see her waving from a corner near a tiny house. What? Who lives here? Why does it feel like these women have more secrets than truths? The mysteries abound with the Season Sisters.
Dressed in full beekeeper gear, Winter walks around a bee box with a canister to smoke it out.
Roman is by her side when Summer signals me with her arm to move to the far side of the field, and yells, “Walk around.”
I don’t see Autumn at all, and Dolly never left the house. When I reach them, I have more questions than we probably have time for. So instead of asking, I say, “So you have a bee farm . . .” I leave it open for her to fill in the gaps.
“You knew that.”
“I thought you had a box or two.” I wave my hand toward their impressive setup.
She laughs. “It’s not quite the size of a typical commercial-sized farm, but it’s grown a lot. Winter is up to fifty boxes.”
“That’s a lot to manage on her own.”
“We help out.” She pats Roman’s shoulder. “Come on. We must keep you safe.” She heads for the tiny house but looks back at me over her shoulder. “He’s not allergic to bees, is he?”
“He’s going into the beehives?” Staring at Winter, I watch her swat, not making me more comfortable with this idea.
She grins up at me. “He’s not going in the beehives. He’s walking around with my sister to learn about the boxes.” She tells him to go on inside the house. When he does, she rests her palm on my chest, and whispers, “He’ll wear a beekeeper’s suit. It’s safe. I’ve never been stung wearing one.”
I glance at the house and then back at Winter. Thinking about Roman surrounded by concrete and high-rise buildings more than nature, I come around to the idea. I’m not so stuck in my ways that I can’t change. If I want to.
“He’s not allergic, but I want him safe.”
“He’ll be safe.” The house is full of supplies, holds Winter’s office, and is where the honey gets jarred.
It’s a nice space they’ve built out here.
Summer has tucked Roman in Springs’ old bee suit that she outgrew a few years back.
It fits well, but I have her give me the tour to see how secure it is at keeping things out.
As soon as he’s off to catch up to Winter, Summer asks, “Are you doing okay? It sounded like an upsetting call earlier.”
“I fired my agent. I’m not upset, though. As you know, it was coming.” Winter is taking Roman under her wing, showing him how to use the canister, when I add, “Did you hear much of the conversation?” I’ll bury him if she overheard any of the arm candy crap.
“I heard the f-word a few times but nothing else.” Coming a little closer, her pinky wraps with mine. “But I asked how you’re doing? It may have been time, but it doesn’t make severing a relationship any easier.”
I hadn’t even picked up on the question before I was off and running, talking about the bad stuff. She listens to my stories, but she cares more about me. I wrap my arm around her, wondering how I’m worthy enough of this incredible woman loving me.
Autumn comes out of another part of the woods. She wipes under her eyes and then walks a wide berth around the area where we’re standing.
Summer troubles her bottom lip while fidgeting with her shirt. Concern has tightened her expression, but when she finally looks at me, she says, “I want to share something with you, something personal, if that’s okay?”
Seeing how affected she is, I don’t make jokes. Not the time. “I’d like that.”
She takes my hands when we’re a fair distance from the bee yard, her steps growing more tentative, and she only glances back at me once before we reach another clearing.
I look up at the sky and then down around the perimeter to see if trees existed here or if it’s a natural oddity in the middle of the woods.
Doesn’t appear to be created by anyone. It’s just this way.
Flowers fill the small area as if they’re not allowed to grow anywhere else. White and yellow daisy petals catch in the slightest breeze. Summer stops at the edge and stares ahead. It’s only then that I see the headstone hidden among the flowers.
The fun I thought we were having drains from the realization of what this place is. Keeping my eyes back on Summer, I ask, “It’s okay if you don’t want me here.”
The warmth of her hand bonds mine to her. And her soft smile works overtime to make me feel welcome. “I want you here. Will you come with me?”
I nod, and we start walking again, stopping at the spot where the tall grasses are trampled from time spent here.
FAITH AND CHARLIE SEASON: FOREVER TOGETHER.
Forever in our hearts.
Forever living through their daughters.
“They were in a car accident. Is it wrong to hope they were killed instantly?”
A bit dark for her to think about, but I’d want the same. I wrap my arm around her shoulders. “No. No one wants their loved ones to suffer.”
Her parents were young when they passed, one year younger than I am now. I can’t imagine how that impacted Summer and her family, but I get glimpses of it. She’s never grieved. And from what I’ve learned, there was no time. That’s why it knocks her sideways sometimes.
Tightening my arm around her, she slides her arms around me, and I kiss her head. My heart breaks for her, not only for the loss but the pain she holds onto like it will bring them back if she doesn’t release it. “It’s okay to grieve, Summer.”
“It’s not.” I can hear the hurt in her tone, the sniffle she tries to hide, and feel the wetness from her tears seeping through my shirt.
“You don’t have to be strong all the time.”
Her swallow is hard, her arms tightening around me. “I do.”
“What happens if you’re not?” She doesn’t respond. Rubbing her back, I whisper, “Nothing. Life will go on.” I kiss her head once more. “You don’t have to travel life’s path alone.”
Her head jerks as she pushes back from me. “What did you say?”
Confusion rankles my brain as I stare at her trying to figure out why she’s upset. “I was just saying that I’m here for you.”
“No.” Her head is shaking so much that I’m worried she’s going to hurt herself. “That’s not what you said, Daniel.”
I reach for her hand. “What’s wrong?” She doesn’t pull away when I catch hold.
Good sign, right? Unable to do anything more than stare at me like a ghost who’s come to haunt her, I say, “You don’t have to travel life’s path alone.
I’ll always be here for you. That was what my mom wrote in a card she gave to me the night before the hockey draft. ”
She slams into my arms, tears flooding her lids and falling. Through sobs and laughter mixing, she says, “That’s what my mom told me.” Looking up at me, she rests her chin on my chest. “She told me that two years before she died.”
The tears have slowed, and her smile has bloomed like the wildflowers. She reaches up and palms my cheek. “My parents would have loved you.”