Page 7 of True Honey (The Hornets Nest #4)

COURTNEY

A ugust shoved his binder into the old backpack, completely ignoring me in the passenger seat.

His dark hair was getting so long and I wanted to reach out and play with the small curls like I used to when he was small.

He had pulled out a clean band shirt and a sweater I hadn’t seen him wear in a while for school.

“What look?” I turned in my seat and peeked out the window at the massive high school. The lawn was packed with kids and I was just hoping that he’d have a chance to make friends here. He was always so alone and it broke my heart.

“You were reminiscing again or something,” he said, looping his headphones around his neck. “You aren’t already thinking about bailing are you?”

I shook my head instantly to quell his worry but the truth was everything was up in the air.

Kayla had been short with me after last night, and I wasn’t even sure I had a job to return to later this evening.

My hand was throbbing in my lap and it served as a loud reminder that even when I was trying, it wasn’t enough.

“I’m going to look at apartments today, Auggie,” I said to him. “Hopefully I’ll find a pet friendly one, maybe you can finally get that cat.”

“You say that in every town.” He inhaled slowly and I could feel the disappointment in his voice like a stab to the chest. The older he got the harder it was to explain to him why we moved.

He was mature enough to understand that it wasn’t because we had to, but because his mother was a total loser who couldn’t keep a job.

But I continued to work hard, trying to be somewhat of a good role model for him even when I didn’t feel like I was one.

I couldn’t care less about being stuck in the front seat of my car for the rest of my life as long as I had August.

He made that judgmental face again, the one that his father used to wear around the house after an argument, and I felt the anger seep into my bones. Suddenly he felt a million miles away from me.

“One day at a time,” I said, reaching out to him but I was talking to myself. Reminding my anxiety and depression that it was a process and I couldn’t possibly expect him to understand. He was still a child and I was still a fucking mess.

“For once can it be one year at a time, even one month?” he asked. With his hand on the door handle, I knew I had already lost him and the argument.

“I’m trying,” I said to him as he pushed from the passenger seat, slamming the door behind him. I started the car again and drove down the street until I found an empty parking lot and just cried.

My chest heaved in raw sobs that I couldn’t make stop until every self-deprecating thought flowed through me like a tidal wave. I asked myself the age-old question that, no matter how many times it ran through my head, maimed me every time. Should I have left August with his father?

I’d known long before getting pregnant that I was never going to survive it.

But Bradley had wanted a child and… I was just trying to be a good wife in the best way I knew how.

The guilt set in the day that August was born and I held him in my arms, but there was no rush of undeniable love or protection. Of course I loved him but—

Not in the way that all the books described.

Where was the euphoria, the unconditional thumping of my heart growing two sizes from the sight of him? I would do anything for August, but I had known then like I know now that there was a wall between my brain and the ability to be a good mother.

It only got worse the more time I spent alone with him. All he did was cry, and the more he cried, the more of a failure I felt. Bradley would get angry and yell, it never made a difference. I woke up disconnected and fell asleep at three in the morning feeling hollow inside.

That feeling followed me for years, and even as August grew, the void remained. Bradley got meaner and nothing was ever good enough for him. It made everything heavier, especially with no one to talk to .

I’d tried a therapist, but she referred me to a clinic for postpartum and I didn’t have the time to be a mom to August and take care of myself that way.

Two years later, just after August turned seven, we left.

Bradley was pissed, but he had stopped being a Dad when he realized his son was into things like cats and astronomy.

There was no catch in the backyard or hockey games, no matter how hard he pushed.

We had moved nineteen times since then. August had turned thirteen in February.

We had spent his birthday in a diner on the side of the highway with a candle shoved into the top of a stack of pancakes.

It wore down on him, I knew that, and I knew that finding somewhere permanent had always been my goal, I just couldn’t for the life of me figure out how to accomplish that.

Everything I touched, I screwed up.

I slammed my hands against the steering wheel, sad and frustrated.

Bad mom, bad wife, bad waitress .

I wiped my face with the back of my hand and dug out my cell phone to bring up a listing of apartments in the area.

The first-aid kit containing the business card that Silas had given me was mocking me from the floor of the passenger seat, tangled into August’s blanket and his stack of books.

The guilt seeped in. How little space he had to grow, to thrive .

I turned back to apartment hunting. Without a job, every single listing was out of budget.

I needed to talk to Kayla, but she had told me to take today to cool off and get my hand checked out. Silas had cleaned it and I changed the bandage this morning with no signs of any infection. It was good enough for me, and I didn’t need the hospital bill that getting it looked at would cost.

Walking into Hilly’s felt like torture at the moment, so I started the car and decided to drive around Harbor until I found more hiring signs in a pathetic attempt to get a job instead of showing my face.

Everyone hit me with the same excuses: ‘we’ve filled the spot’ ‘we hired internally’ ‘oh that sign is old’.

It was frustrating and made me feel hopeless.

When you haven’t had many wins in your entire life and the one thing you consider a win is slipping through your fingers…

I stopped for lunch, slamming some plain chips and turkey slices between two pieces of bread and scrolled through more Craigslist posts but found nothing that paid like waitressing, or that we could afford, even with tips .

I looked up at the building of the parking lot I parked in and sighed.

Harbor Stadium .

I looked down at the bright red first aid kit and shook my head.

The universe was just fucking with me now.

I reached over and grabbed the card from the mesh pocket and flipped it around in my hands.

Last night he hadn’t actually given me any details about the apartment, like how much rent he wanted to charge.

Him being the roommate made me nervous, the two times I had come in contact with him were in the bar and despite him saying he was a doctor I wasn’t exactly sure of the validity of the statement he made.

Why was he working at the baseball stadium if he was a doctor?

It just didn’t make any sense to me but what did I know? I was a broke, self-deprecating single mom living out of her car with her thirteen-year-old son. A son who resented me more and more every day.

I stared up at the stadium and groaned.

It couldn’t get any worse.

I grabbed my jeans and pulled on a cardigan over my shoulders as I wandered up to the main doors and pressed the button on the intercom that was labeled visitors ring.

It took nearly two whole minutes before the lock buzzed open loudly and I was allowed inside.

My senses were flooded by the noise of people chatting, and phone calls being made.

It was like its own tiny working city within the walls.

My nose was bombarded by grass, sand and a weird sterile smell that I couldn't quite place.

Taking in the signs on the side of the massive beige concrete tunnel I followed it down to the main office. Lined with glass windows, it was bright with a few seats and a long couch parallel to a massive L-shaped desk piled with pamphlets, folders and flowers of all different colors.

I stepped forward, not seeing anyone and tapped the edge of the card on the counter.

The main part of the desk was a disaster zone, there were papers everywhere and three empty coffee cups all with varying amounts of what looked like cold coffee in them.

I could hear someone rustling around out of sight but it was another five minutes of standing around before she appeared again.

“Oh Jesus!” A small, sweet looking woman appeared from one of the back doors.

She was in a navy-white hoodie and jeans, her gray hair twisted up into a massive claw clip and her glasses on the tip of her nose.

She clutched her chest at the surprise and the folders in her arms went flying.

I moved forward squatting down to help her collect everything on the floor.

“I’m so sorry,” I said, helping her quickly pile everything back up and handed it to her as I stood.

“Those boys,” she grumbled. “Did you ring the bell?”

“Yeah,” I said, looking over my shoulder at the entrance to the office. “I’m sorry I scared you…”

“They hear the sound of the bell and instead of calling me they just lean over that damned desk thinking they’re being helpful and let anyone in the building before they disappear! One of these days they’re going to get me murdered!” She huffed as she worked to calm herself down from the scare.

She walked through the office and I went back around to the other side of the desk as she set down the pile in her arms. She looked around at the chaos and muttered a few more choice swears under her breath before she composed herself and looked up.

“Not a murderer.” I drew a little cross over my heart and she laughed gently.

“What can I do for you?” she asked.

“My name is Drew,” I smiled.

“Susanna, and I promise I’m not always this worked up,” she said with a smile, before frowning at the three mugs.

“I was wondering if I could talk to Mr. Shore?” I pushed the card forward on her desk when the phone rang.

She picked it up without taking the card and started to talk to whoever was on the other end.

She moved backward and the cord of the phone caught the lip of the fullest mug sending it tumbling across the desk.

Susanna continued chatting, pulling something up on her computer so I rushed around the desk again and started to move all the folders out of the way of the spill.

I piled them up neatly and set them out of the way before the coffee touched most of them but a few had gotten caught.

With her back turned to me I continued to look for help, spotting a box of tissues on the desk behind me.

I used nearly half the box to clean the mess as she just continued to chat away.

“Oh shoot,” she said as she hung up the phone. “This is the busiest season of the month and I am swamped, I’m so sorry!” She started to mess around with the papers with a scowl on her face as I dumped the wet tissues into the garbage.

“Is there anything I can do?” I asked her.

I just needed to feel useful and maybe Susanna was my ticket.

The phone rang again as she eyed me. She wasn’t entirely sure about accepting the help but she angled to pick up the phone and smiled before she nodded, handing me the other two cups.

“If you go on back there, there's a kitchen. Let’s start with that so I don’t spill anything else. ”

She picked up the phone and her entire voice changed again as she spoke to someone named Ryan on the other end. I entered the kitchen to a sink full of dishes and laughed before I shrugged off my cardigan and started to fill the small sink for her.