Page 4 of True Honey (The Hornets Nest #4)

SHORE

“ D o you need a note to get out of practice?” I asked her.

Adeline Sarah was the star winger for Harbor’s semi-pro rugby team, four years deep into chronic knee issues.

She shook her head of dark hair, no. “Alright,” I pushed out of my chair and offered her a hand off the high bed.

Her knee would be sore for a few hours after the session and check-up.

“Careful,” I hummed in a low voice as she lost her balance.

Adeline smiled with a small hop to prove she had her balance.

I dealt with clients like her all the time, young and determined to run forever but unfortunately she was good at one of the roughest sports possible. The reality was she wasn’t going to run forever, but she certainly was the type of person to run until she couldn’t.

“Do me a favor?” I asked her as she turned to grab her bag.

She paused momentarily and looked over at me.

“Listen to your body,” I said, it was too often I watched athletes push too hard and forget that they’re just flesh and blood.

“You’ve got a massive career ahead of you.

I don’t want to read your name in the news because you ignored the pain. ”

She raised her hand to her forehead in a childish salute, “yes Doc.”

“Get out of my office,” I said with a small huff and watched her slink out, closing the door behind her and giving me a moment of silence. I went back to my computer, making a few more notes before I started on the next pile of paperwork.

There was a knock at the door that barely pulled my focus.

“You eat today?” Arlo leaned against the door frame in a Hornets shirt, a hat and two food containers in his hand. He didn’t wait for my answer to move through the office and handing me one with a fork.

“Thanks,” I said, popping it open to find a pile of Greek food from the cafeteria on campus. It was the only day of the week when that place turned out edible food. I survived university on the salty back of the lemon, rosemary potatoes alone.

I shoved one in my mouth as Arlo ate in the chair across from me.

“Are you sleeping?” He asked, waiting until I had gotten through half of my meal before being nosy. I nodded and he scowled. “Don’t bullshit me.”

“It hasn’t been great, but it’s sleep, a few hours here and there gets me through the day,” I said, setting down my fork.

I shuffled around some papers with my clean hand and showed him the updates on his pitchers.

“I’d give Logan a break until Lorette, he’s sore but hiding it, and you need him more then.

Reyes can handle the rest of the North Dakota games. ”

“We’re still doing that whole, Logan , thing?” He said, looking over the papers and setting them aside. I knew he’d listen so there was no point in arguing about staying on topic. He’d retained the information and would be cautious going forward. That was just Arlo.

“He doesn’t want to change his last name, and I’m not going to force him. The Shore name’s been a stain lately.” I shoved more food in my mouth. I hadn’t realized just how hungry I was until the first bite and now my stomach was begging for more.

“Are you two getting along?” He asked me, and for some reason the question made me laugh.

“For the most part,” I said, setting the fork down. “He has his moments, therapy is helping. All I can do is show up and hope that’s enough—because it’s the only thing he’ll let me give him.”

“At least he’s asking for the one thing you’re actually good at,” Arlo teased. “God forbid he asked you to become emotionally available for conversation.”

“You’re one to judge,” I said with a groan.

“I’m not the one trying to repair my relationship with my very volatile younger brother,” Arlo said, his jaw stirring as he chewed. “And for the record, your father’s the stain, not the Shore name,” Arlo said.

“It doesn’t feel like that, not right now.

” I cleared my throat and closed the lid to the food.

“I unplugged my landline. The press won’t stop calling, and I don’t even know what the hell to say anymore.

For years our family has been the golden goose of Harbor, we support sports, the arts.

We funnel money into the University, back into the town.

And now no one wants our money because my dad decided that he also wanted to funnel it into drugs, secret children and gambling. ”

Arlo gave me one of those looks that screamed, well…

“Look at me, a rich idiot complaining about being rich. What the hell is wrong with me?” I rubbed my face with my hands and leaned over on the desk.

“Do you want the truth or do you want me to go find Cael to give you a back rub and a few forehead kisses?” Arlo teased.

“Fuck off,” I groaned.

“You aren’t invincible, Si.” He shifted forward and set down his food. “You like to believe you are. And sure you clean up more messes than you make but this isn’t as simple as a dog getting into the garbage. This is…” Arlo stopped to think about it. “An oil spill.”

“Thank you for the perspective,” I said, annoyed with everything and less with Arlo.

“Is there anything we can do to help?” was his next question.

“Win this fucking season,” I said, “show Harbor that we aren’t falling apart from the inside out.”

“You couldn’t have picked something easier?” Arlo grumbled.

“You asked,” I said, and then a thought crossed my mind. “There is something else though…”

“World peace, feed the homeless, adopt all the kids?” He smiled.

“We’ll get back to those,” I said. “Just advice this time,” I said, and Arlo’s lips pressed into a thin line as he pulled back to focus. “Seymour is dying.”

“Shit,” Arlo swore .

“Cancer,” I added and he nodded. We both knew it was coming. He had been smoking three packs a day since I was born and had a nasty addiction to cigars over evening scotch. I exhaled roughly. “If he dies, all of the company shares transfer to my father.”

“My advice? Burn it all,” Arlo said, cutting me off and I shook my head when he offered me a sympathetic smile.

“Seymour wants to sign those shares over to me, but the board won’t approve it because they don't believe I'm ready for the responsibility.” I explained.

“You’ve been running everything for years,” Arlo said, clearly just as confused as I was.

“Exactly,” I said, “but I guess what they mean is a little more superficial.”

“They don’t want a boss, they want a face they can show off,” Arlo was catching on.

It was one of his best traits. Talking to him had always been easy because our brains, for the most part, operated on the same frequency.

My thoughts were almost always his and vice versa, give or take a few times when we butted heads.

“They don’t think that I’m ready to take over because I don’t have a serious relationship, a family, kids,” I said.

“That’s bullshit, so what Seymour expects you to get a serious girlfriend before he croaks?” Arlo sounded as exhausted by the thought as I felt.

“A wife.” I corrected him. “He wants me to find a wife.”

“This is the plot of one of Ella’s romance novels, Si.” Arlo shook his head in disbelief and a small laugh left his lips.

“Trust me, I know. I’ve been sitting on the information for three days just trying to figure out how the fuck I’m going to pull this off.” I huffed.

“A wife.” Arlo leaned back in his chair, pushing his hat up and laughing at me. Like chest rumbling, stomach clenching, laughing at me.

“Fuck you,” I snapped and it only made him laugh harder.

“Does Seymour know that you’ve fucked half of Harbor?” Arlo cackled and honestly it was refreshing to see him smile.

“He said, screwing women like you’re your father's son. Word for fucking word.” I sighed, but the laughter bubbled up and soon we were both a mess.

“Holy shit, you’re so fucked,” Arlo said breathlessly after a few moments of unbridled laughter between us.

“Do you think I could go back through the catalog?” I asked, thinking about all the women I’d dated in the last little while… dated being a loose term.

“No,” Arlo shook his head. “If you want to pull this off, you have to start fresh, and preferably with someone you can bring home to your mother.”

“That felt judgmental,” I scowled.

“It was, you have horrible taste in women as of late, and off the top of my head there’s not one I would even let you introduce to Ella,” Arlo said.

“That’s rude. Ella’s met Kayla.”

“Oh yeah, bring Kayla home to your mom but record it when you start explaining how you met and how many times you’ve fucked her in the Hilly’s utility closet.” Arlo raised a brow, and those dark eyes narrowed in on me.

“Alright, not Kayla,” I said.

“Maybe it’s time you get on one of those dating apps,” Arlo suggested.

“Yeah fuck that,” I refused. I looked over at the time and groaned, “I gotta meet Ella in five, thanks for bringing me lunch.”

“Finish mine.” He pointed to the container. He had eaten everything and left the potatoes untouched. I nodded with a smile as he pushed from his chair and grabbed the paper detailing the pitching schedule. “You coming to Hilly’s later?” He asked before walking away.

“I got too much work to do,” I brushed him off and started organizing for my meeting.

“Silas,” Arlo called out, standing in the doorway looking at me. “Last thing. Tell Grandpa Shore to fuck off about the kid bullshit.”

“Yeah?” I laughed.

“Yeah. You have kids, a whole fucking Nest of them.”

I laughed, and he winked at me before leaving and closing the door behind him.