Chapter 13
When Henry suggested our next location scouting adventure be somewhere in the woods, I knew I wanted to take him to the creek. It was a big part of my childhood and an even bigger part of the life I’d slowly built for myself in Honey Grove. It was the perfect place to start peeling back the layers.
My car tires crunch against the dirt road as I weave in and out of the potholes marking the entrance. You have to squint to see the small clearing, which is covertly shrouded by a dense wall of trees, concealing the perfect hideout.
Before I pull onto the narrow dirt path, I pull my car to the side of the road behind Henry’s Prius.
The compact silver car looks out of place—much like the man leaning against its hood, clad in cargo shorts and hiking boots.
My cheeks twist up in a smile as I shake my head.
I should start giving Henry a dress code for these outings.
There’s a flutter deep inside of my chest when he looks at me through the glass windshield. I swallow that feeling and poke my head out of the window. “Hop in my car and I’ll drive us back there. I’m not sure if your car will make it.”
When Henry told me he wanted to drive separately, a nauseating wave of emotions washed over me.
At first, my insides twisted into a tight knot, and my heart felt like it was in my stomach.
Then, I felt that knot slowly unravel into pure relief.
I needed the extra space to decide my next move.
Still, disappointment and rejection were at the forefront of my mind—two emotions that showed I cared.
He nods and moves to the passenger seat. When the door clicks open, a comforting blend of sweetness and earthiness assaults my nostrils. Unease crawls across my skin, and my jaw locks into place.
I push the long braid resting on my shoulder to my back and nervously tug my gym shorts down as they threaten to reveal more milky white skin. “Hey.”
“Hi, Pajarito,” he chirps, his voice filling my car. The nickname provides me with a new level of comfort and eases some of the tension on my shoulders. I ease into the driver’s seat and turn the car down the dirt path.
Silence fills any uncertainty lurking from the last time we spoke. An empty feeling crawls up my spine.
I clear my throat and grip the steering wheel until my knuckles turn white. “I think you’re going to love this place.” I keep my eyes trained on the uneven path, trying to dodge big holes that could easily cause a flat or a busted muffler.
“How did you say you discovered this place again?” he asks. The question jostles my memory with a sharp slice of nostalgia.
“Wren’s boyfriend and her brother found this place when we were kids.
They were out riding their four-wheelers one day and stumbled across an old path that led here.
It started as their place, but much like an annoying younger sibling and her friend, we infiltrated it and made it our own.
We all used to sneak out here every summer to swim or have fires.
Once we got older, it turned into a party spot for us and our friends.
I’ve experienced so many firsts here, from my first beer to my first kiss,” I say, the last memory feeling thick on my tongue.
“This place is—" I pause, feeling the memories shift inside the box I packed them away in. “It was like an escape. Our own little paradise where we could just be kids.”
A fond coziness settles over me, letting the old memories provide comfort where so much pain existed. The nostalgia dulls the nervous energy spilling, and I can’t hear the pounding of my own pulse in my ears anymore.
Sensing a shift in Henry as well, I glance over at him to see he’s already watching me. “What?” I ask, trying to shake the feeling of those eyes.
“Nothing.” He smiles to himself. “I like seeing you like this.”
I open my mouth to reply, but my attention is quickly pulled to the dirt path, which is coming to an end.
The trees part, revealing the creek in all its glory.
Sunlight coats the thick shrubbery surrounding a simple fire pit and another narrow path to the babbling brook on the other side.
The quiet and serene rush of water weaves into the air, creating the perfect symphony.
My heart clenches as I park and kill the engine. I turn to Henry again and his eyes are still on me, glazed over with deep admiration. “Well? What do you think?”
“Hermosa,” Henry answers, his eyes locked onto mine.
My breath hitches. I reach for the door handle and pop it open, desperate to create some space between us. “It’s even better up close. Let’s go explore,” I suggest, stepping out of the car. Fresh air rushes into my lungs and I greedily take it in.
Henry follows, the sound of his door shutting echoing off the trees. “You were right. This place is great. I can see why you liked it so much as a kid.”
I wrap my arms around myself and let the space close in around me. “Do you think it’s a good inspiration for your book?”
He lets out a weak laugh and steps next to me. His hand reaches behind his neck and scratches the exposed part of his neck. “I’m not sure. I’m working on the scene where the killer is chasing the protagonist in the woods. This space doesn’t feel ominous enough. It feels more like home.”
I nod and let my eyes dance around the clearing, looking for any place to settle except for Henry’s face. “I’m sorry. We can try somewhere else.”
“No, it’s fine. I—thank you for bringing me here. I can tell this place means a lot to you.”
I smile and start walking toward the edge of the creek.
“You’re welcome. And I wouldn’t say it feels like home.
It almost feels like more than that. When things got hard and my emotions felt too overwhelming, I came here.
It was the one place I could just exist and not have to worry about—I don’t know,” I lie. I know what I was running away from.
Henry’s light footsteps sink into the grass behind me. “I feel like I might’ve overstepped that night at the library. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I wanted to tell you I was sorry.”
At first, I don’t say anything. The apology floats between us awkwardly. I was the one who was a jerk when all he wanted to do was be there for me. Maybe I forgot how to let someone do that.
And now, standing here, I hate myself for making him feel like that.
“You don’t need to apologize,” I say, turning to face him. “I’m the one who should be apologizing.”
Henry's brows draw tightly together. “No, I pushed you. I shouldn’t have—”
“No,” I interrupt. “You didn’t push, Henry. I have this bad habit of shutting people out when I get overwhelmed with my feelings. I shouldn’t have made you feel like you needed to be sorry for being kind to me.”
His gaze softens, and his eyes scan my face. The understanding in his expression makes my chest ache, but it also stirs up something else. Courage.
I glance down at the ground, gathering myself. I balance my weight to the back of my sneakers and dig my heels into the cool, wet earth below me. When I look back up, I’m greeted with two pools of amber that make me feel safe.
“On Wednesday, I was talking to my Nana. She’s been trying to get me to talk to my mother, who I don’t have a good relationship with.
My mom had me when she was a kid, and she never quite grew into the role.
My dad didn’t want anything to do with us, so she was my only parent.
There are a lot of things that I experienced as a kid.
” I pause, feeling all of the memories crash down on me.
“That no kid should ever have to go through. And now that I have Milo, I’m not eager to rekindle my relationship with her. ”
Henry doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t look away either. His silence feels more like an invitation than an expectation.
“Actually, I didn’t decide to cut her off completely until recently.
I’ve started seeing a therapist, and I’ve realized that she’s a big trigger for my depression—” I pause again, surprised I said that out loud.
I take a deep breath and continue. “She does this thing where she plays the role of a good mom for a little while, and without any warning, I’ll stop hearing from her.
She decided when she wanted to be a part of my life, and for a long time, I confused her love with my self-worth.
It really messed me up for a while. My nana has been trying to get me to talk to her again, and it always sets me on edge.
That’s why I was a jerk that night. Not that that’s any excuse. ”
I bite the inside of my cheek, searching for Henry’s reaction. He doesn’t respond right away, and for a brief moment, I wonder if I’ve said too much. Before I can debate it anymore, he steps closer, his boots crunching on the forest floor.
“You weren’t a jerk,” he states firmly. “You were protecting yourself. And from what you told me, you’ve had to do that a lot.”
I swallow hard, feeling the hard knot in my throat tighten. His words were simple, but they unraveled something inside of me.
“It’s just every time I think I’m finally moving forward, something pulls me back. I don’t know how to stop feeling like I’m fighting against everything and everyone—including myself.”
The wounds that never healed from my childhood sparkle like fresh new accessories across my skin. I always felt like people would turn away in disgust at them, but Henry doesn’t. In fact, he looks like he wants to help me heal them.
Henry exhales, his hand moving in the space between us. He hesitates for a moment to see if I’ll pull away before lightly resting his hand on my forearm. His touch instantly lights up my entire body, and I’m surprised by how much I don’t want him to let go.