Page 28

28

HONOR

Laramie’s wails fill the car, tiny fists flailing in frustration. I glance at her in the rearview mirror. “Baby, we’re going to see Oak. You can’t wait to see your brother, right?” My voice is as soothing as I can muster, but it doesn’t seem to register. Her cries persist, a soundtrack to the winding road.

Finally, we crest the last bend. The scenery here is like something out of a dream. A river snakes lazily through the hills, its surface catching the sunlight. The greenery stretches, stitched with wildflowers. And perched at the top of the hill, is the house, with its timber beams and wraparound porch.

Ethan is already waiting at the gate, his ATV idling. He raises a hand in greeting before motioning for me to follow. I ease in behind him as we ascend the dirt path.

We pass a group of men near the paddock, their attention on a cluster of llamas—real llamas, just like in Oakley’s stories. They’re grooming the animals, brushing and trimming with practiced efficiency.

One of the men, a burly figure with a thick beard and a sun-creased face, waves at Ethan and then at me, his gesture easy.

Ethan leans back in his seat, calling over his shoulder, “Take it easy, Ramirez! We’re not styling them for an 80s rock album cover!”

The men chuckle, and Ramirez shakes his head with a resigned smirk, muttering something I can’t catch but that earns another laugh from the group.

So that’s Ramirez. Oakley’s talked about him more than once, always with admiration. A retired Marine, just like the others here. This isn’t just a farm—it’s a fortress disguised as pastoral bliss.

Halfway up the hill, Ethan slows his ATV to a stop and strides over to my car. He leans in, giving Laramie a little wave. For a moment, the baby’s cries falter, her wide eyes locking onto the stranger with cautious fascination.

“Look, Honor,” Ethan begins, his tone measured. “Would you rethink this?”

I sigh, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter. “I’ll talk to Oakley,” I reply. “If he wants to stay, it’s his decision.”

He studies me for a beat, then nods, satisfied for now. Without another word, he heads back to his ATV, and we resume the climb.

The house looms larger as we approach, all sturdy wood and wide windows. The front door opens before I can even park, and Oakley bounds out to greet us, his smile bright.

“Honor!” he calls, wrapping me in a hug the second I step out of the car. “So good to see you.”

“So good to see you too, kiddo,” I say, pulling back to take him in. His face is clear, his posture confident, and there’s a lightness about him I haven’t seen before.

He turns his attention to Laramie, still squirming in her car seat. “Hello, Laramie,” he coos, gently brushing a finger along her cheek. “Why are you crying, huh?”

“She’s been cranky all morning,” I admit, unbuckling her.

“Can I?” he asks, his hands already half-raised, eager but careful.

“Of course.” I lift her into his arms.

The change is immediate. Laramie’s cries taper off, her tiny fists relaxing as Oakley sways with an easy rhythm. “See?” He flashes me a teasing grin. “Told you I’ve got experience now.”

I laugh casually. “Looks like you do.”

I watch him with her. The boy standing before me isn’t the restless, unsure kid I used to know. He’s steady, responsible, even glowing with that fresh-faced energy that comes from finding your place in the world.

After a while, I take Laramie back into my arms, watching as Oakley leans back. I can’t help but notice he’s bulked up a little—just a hint.

He catches me looking and grins, flexing dramatically. “Ethan’s been training me. You should see the gym. It’s awesome.”

The gym—that tugs at a memory.

“Where’s Chase?” he asks, shifting the conversation.

“He’s not here,” I reply simply.

“Oh?”

I quickly redirect. “Where are the Connors?”

“In town,” he answers with a shrug, clearly picking up on my attempt to change the subject.

“Can we sit?” I ask, breaking the moment.

“Of course! Sorry—rude of me not to offer.”

“Don’t get all formal on me now,” I tease as we move to the living room.

We settle in, and for a moment, the room feels still. This is the hard part. “Oak,” I begin carefully, “you’ve heard about your parents?”

His expression doesn’t shift much, but his voice is quiet. “Yeah. They’re in jail. It’s over, right?”

“Yeah,” I say, letting my words settle. “We’re safe now.” The ‘now’ feels like a fragile thread I’m clinging to. I know better than to believe it’ll hold forever, but I have to make the most of it while it lasts.

He looks at me, hesitating. “So… I can come with you?”

I nod. “That’s what I’m here to talk about.”

His smile is cautious, but there’s a spark of determination. “Of course I’m coming with you. Don’t be silly.”

“We’re going far, Oak. Far from here.”

The spark dims. “What? But… what about my friends?”

That word—’friends’—hits me harder than it should. It’s the first time he’s ever said it. Back when he was part of the Stone household, he had a group he called his ‘crew.’ He left them behind without hesitation to spend time with me. But now? I can tell that word, ‘friends,’ carries so much weight for him. And now, he’s facing a decision no thirteen-year-old should ever have to make.

I take a breath, meeting his eyes. “I promised you, Oak. I’ll keep my word. But I also know how much things have changed for you. If you want to stay, I’ll understand. It’s your choice.”

He looks down for a moment, his voice quieter when he speaks. “Honor… I love it here.”

“I know,” I say gently.

“But there’s nothing I want more than to be with you. That’s why I followed you to Wild Horse Island in the first place. You remember, right?”

I nod. “I do. That’s why I’m here.”

Oakley steps closer, his eyes darting to Laramie, and then back to me. “I’m coming with you,” he says with conviction.

Mark Connor appears then, his face etched with concern. I already know he’s going to try to talk me out of this, and ignoring him isn’t going to be easy.

“Why don’t you pack up?” I say to Oakley, before turning to Mark.

“Chase told me about you—how determined you can be,” Mark says, his voice calm but laced with quiet certainty. “So while I’m going to tell you this is a bad idea—and it is—I know I probably won’t stop you. Just… don’t forget that you’ve always got a home here. No matter what.”

The lump in my throat making words difficult. “Thanks for everything, Mark.”

I turn and walk away before he can sway me any further, because goddamn Mark Connor—he almost did. Almost.

As Oakley and I walk to the car, he asks, “Are we going to move around again?”

“No. This time I’ve got a plan. Solid plan.”

“I’ll still get to see Ethan and Noah sometimes, right?”

I nod again. “Not every day, but I can make it happen.”

“See, you always know what to do.” His smile returns.

And that hurts.