Chapter 6 #2
“No, it’s interesting. I just don’t think Honey Grove is the best place for the setting.”
“Hmmm,” Henry hums while stroking his chin. “Maybe you’re right. If it helps, I’m not using Honey Grove specifically. I’m simply using the town as a generic setting for a rural small town.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “So now you’re saying my home is generic.”
“No, no. That’s not what I meant,” Henry begins. “I feel like I’m just digging myself a hole at this point.”
I nod in agreement. “No, you’re fine. I love it when handsome men trash my home.”
“Handsome?”
I bite down on my lip, cursing myself for letting the compliment slip. It was harder than I thought to keep my guard up around Henry. “How is the novel going?” I ask, attempting to change the subject.
A small fire begins to crackle behind Henry’s eyes, and I hope he’ll let it go for now. Henry sighs and leans against the hard wooden back of the bench. I bite down on my lip harder, now trying to conceal the smile festering there.
“Not great,” he admits. “I’ve never had this much trouble submerging myself into a setting before. I thought spending the summer in a small town would help, but I’m still blocked.”
“Well, I’m no writer, but I can imagine it’s hard to immerse yourself in a setting you’re not familiar with. Honey Grove is a tough nut to crack,” I reason. “I’ve lived here most of my life and still find things surprising.”
“Like what?” he pushes.
“The fact that there’s a killer priest right under our noses.” I smile.
“Very funny,” he groans. “I have a deadline at the end of the month and my agent has been getting on me to turn in more pages. I guess I’ll just have to keep pushing through.”
“I can help,” I offer. The words make me want to teleport to five seconds ago and cover my own mouth.
Henry turns toward me and his eyes narrow with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. “Oh, really? How exactly can you help me?”
Now I’m the one who has dug herself a hole.
“Well, I grew up here and know all this town's quirks. I know all of the people, the drama, and the stories. Sure, Honey Grove is your stereotypical small town, but it’s also so much more. I’m not sure if I see it as a setting for a killer priest saga, but I can try my best to help you bring your story to life. ”
He tilts his head thoughtfully, his gaze lingering on me. The thought of his eyes on mine makes my entire body squirm on the small park bench. “You make a good point. Having an authentic point of view can really pull a reader in. Maybe you could be useful.”
Before I can respond, Henry’s attention becomes distracted by the soft humming drifting from Milo’s content form in his stroller. His eyebrows press together with something I can interpret. I shift my attention between the two and see the gears spinning in Henry’s mind.
“I don’t know,” he says, itching the soft spot behind his ear. “I feel guilty. You’re a mom and I don’t want to add on to everything you’ve already got going on. My mom was a single mom for most of my childhood, so I know how hard it can be.”
My heart thuds against my ribcage, sending shivers down my spine. “That’s sweet of you, but it’s fine, really. My ex-husband is a big help, and he has Milo most weekends and usually when I’m at work.”
Henry turns his body sideways to face me. My eyes flicker to the arm resting over the bench. Today, he’s wearing a light blue button-up with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. I let myself glance at his strong forearms and feel a tingle in my gut.
Most of the guys in Honey Grove are ruggedly handsome, but Henry is polished with a warm and inviting depth that makes you feel whole inside.
My eyes pop up back to his and I can tell he’s ready to hang onto every word I have to say. It felt like he really wanted to listen to me, and for once in my life, I wanted to be heard.
“When did you two break up?”
“It’s been almost a year, but trust me, we both checked out a long time ago. This is going to sound terrible, but if it wasn’t for Milo we probably would’ve ended things a while ago. I know that’s not a good reason to stay with someone.”
“No,” he agrees. “But at least you ended things before there was any resentment in your relationship. I feel like that’s where my parents went wrong.”
“Really?” I question, leaning closer.
“Yeah,” he nods, “my mom and dad got pregnant with me when they were in college. My dad dropped out so he could make money and so my mom could keep going to school. They got married because they felt like it was the right thing to do and stayed together until I was about five. By that time, there was so much pent-up anger that they had a nasty divorce. My dad ended up moving back home to Honey Grove, and my mom stayed in Pittsburgh. Like I mentioned before, I would spend summers here, but I mainly lived with my mom in the city. When I got old enough to start making decisions for myself, I stopped spending the summers with my dad, and we lost touch for a while.”
Henry speaks slowly, like he’s trying to will the pain from coming out too quickly. My hand starts to reach out for comfort, but I stop it. “That must’ve been really hard. I’m assuming you and your dad reconnected since you’re here.”
My heart feels like it’s being squeezed inside my ribs. I could never imagine Milo not wanting to see me. I feel for his dad in this moment, but childhood pain is an odd thing. There’s always more to the story.
“Yep,” he responds, popping the “p” in an effort to lighten the mood. “I reconnected with him after my mom started dating her wife, Ada. Ada went through something similar with her dad and encouraged me to reach out to him. It’s still weird though.”
“I can imagine,” I mumble. I can tell there’s more, but I’ll take what I can get for now.
“If I’m being honest, this summer is mainly about finishing the book, but I can tell it means a lot to my dad that I’m here.”
“Why did you pick Honey Grove as your setting?”
“Well, like I said, it’s technically not the setting.
The author already has a name picked out for the town,” he explains.
“But I don’t know. It was the first place I thought of when I pictured what a small town looked like.
I was a bookworm growing up, so I never really explored or connected with this place when I spent summers here.
I don’t know why I thought it would be easy to write about this town. ”
“And that’s where I come in,” I gleam.
“Yes,” he agrees with a closed-mouth smile. “So, you’ll help me then?”
“Yes.” I nod my head. “But I need a favor from you too.”
Henry’s eyes light up with intrigue, and he leans closer. “Of course. What is it?”
I take a deep breath, fighting to let go of the words that have been dangling on my tongue all week long.
“Well, it turns out English is not exactly my strong suit. I’m struggling, and the professor has been of no help. I even tried reading that book you gave me, and it’s all gibberish. I was wondering if you’re still willing to help me?”
His eyes soften, and it sends an army of goosebumps up and down my body. “Is that all? I was hoping you’d ask for something more exciting.”
The tips of my ears begin to heat up. “Sorry to disappoint, but I just need a tutor.”
He lets out an innocent laugh, the sound warm and inviting. “Hey, no disappointment here. I’m happy to help. And who knows, maybe you’ll end up teaching me a thing or two—about Honey Grove in the process.”
I swallow hard at the seemingly intentional pause.
Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. I had gone into this with the intention of getting help in my English class, but now I’ve agreed to become his tour guide.
I have this annoying habit of not being able to ask for help unless I am giving back something in return.
Regardless, I smile at conquering one of my demons. “I doubt that, but I’ll try my best. And maybe we can get together before or after your writing group so I’m not taking up too much of your time.”
Henry’s lips tilt down at my suggestion, and I catch a hint of disappointment on his face. “I guess that works. It’s not like we’re neighbors or anything. We could meet at your place or my place too.”
The thought of Henry in my home again sends a heat wave through me. Just imagining him sitting at my kitchen table, leaning over my English assignments with that focused expression he always wears, makes my pulse quicken. That’s exactly what I don’t want to happen. “I think the library will work.”
“Alright,” he agrees. “Then it’s a deal. We’ll help each other.”
My phone begins to buzz in my pocket, and I have a feeling I already know who it is. I’m late to drop off Milo.
“Yes,” I say eagerly and slightly panicked. “We can start next week. I actually have to get going.
“Okay. I’ll see you next week.”
I nod, looking down to make sure Milo stayed put. “I’ll see you next week.”
As I rush toward my car with Milo’s stroller in tow, I glance back over my shoulder. Henry is still standing there, hands in his pockets, watching me with that same unreadable smile.