by Frost, Sosie
What was the worst thing I’d ever done?
Daring to seduce that woman. Hoping that she could be the one to help me.
I shook my head. “Stop worrying about the worst thing we’ve done. Start thinking about the best.”
Spencer blinked, furrowed his brow, and eventually gave up. “But I don’t know what the best thing I’ve done is.”
“Me neither.”
The kid nodded. For a little guy, he had a lot of determination when he wanted it. He stood up, staring me in the eye.
“You know what, Uncle Tidus? We can do something good together. And we’ll start with Honey.”
“Believe me. You’ll never screw up with Honey the way I will.”
“Why?”
No point in lying to him. He was old enough now. He’d eventually start to chase girls. Then he’d realize how badly he’d fuck himself over just to impress one.
“Because I don’t know how to help her,” I said. “Look at her. She’s over there crying. Heartbroken. Not sure what I gotta say to make it better.”
Spencer rolled his eyes. “Duh. That’s easy. All you gotta do is hug her.”
I chuckled. “Spence, you still got a lot of growing up to do.”
“Trust me, Uncle Tidus. Go hug her. Girls like that.”
“What the hell do you know about girls?”
“Apparently more than you.”
Christ, for all I knew, he was right. “Do yourself a favor. Wait a couple years before exercising that talent.”
He made a face. “Have you seen the farm lately? It’s crawling with girls. Babies. Pregnant women. Girlfriends. They’re everywhere. I liked it better when it was us guys.” He shrugged. “And Aunt Cassi. She’s all right.”
I smirked. “You say that now. But every one of those guys on the farm was made better by those girls. You could learn a lot from them, especially your Aunt Cassi.”
“Who do you think taught me all this?” He pushed me out of the garage. “Go hug her!”
What the hell did I have to lose?
Wasn’t like I had a plan to help her out. Christ, watching how her expression had crumbled, lip trembled, and warmth drained from her smile was enough to drop me to my knees.
I was never good at talking things out. Never understood what other people thought or felt.
So, I did as Spencer directed. Couldn’t have been any worse than walking away.
I gestured Honey close with a flick of my fingers.
She didn’t hesitate. Just fell into my arms.
And the surprise nearly rocked me to the earth.
She gripped me tight, pressing her face into my neck. I wrapped my arms around her, and she snuggled in deeper.
This wasn’t a woman who ever surrendered, but sometimes she needed a minute to regroup.
In that minute, she depended on me.
And that was a frightening fucking realization.
I knew what I was supposed to do—what a man was supposed to do. Comfort her. Offer support. Let her depend on me for a couple heartbeats of insecurity before lending her my strength to pick up the pieces and soldier on.
But what the hell was I doing? I had no right to touch this woman, hold her close, to rest my hand along her curves while I kissed the top of her head.
I couldn’t make things better. Had never once been a sensitive man. My only instincts were shit forms of self-preservation crafted from the misfortune of others. I lied, cheated, and stole. Also knew how much to drink to abandon a harsh reality for a couple hours.
The only plan I had was to find the nearest restaurant and buy five hundred dollars’ worth of prepared ribs to shove in her truck, just to make things right.
But that wasn’t what she wanted. She hadn’t come to me to fix the problem.
She hugged me tight, pulled away, and finally smiled once more.
“Thanks…” The sunshine quiet of her voice rocked me to my core. “I really needed that, Tidus.”
Really needed what?
I didn’t know what the hell I was doing with her. What I had done to seduce her. Why I even pretended that I could give her a minute of the treatment she needed.
Honey was a good woman.
I only hoped she’d be a forgiving woman once she realized she’d fallen for a bad man.
12
Honey
Something told me Spencer was no stranger to a knife or fire.
Unfortunately, only Tidus and I trusted the kid to be responsible with both.
All it took was a little faith, an extra chunk of brisket, and a long afternoon to teach him to put the skills to a better use. He cut meat, prepped veggies, stirred pans, and scrubbed pots. Even seemed to like it.
Except when I dragged him to the smoker.
Spencer furiously blushed as I showed him the location of the equipment’s wood box.
“This is where we load up the smoker,” I said. “The wood stays here and burns slowly, one log at a time. That’s how we get the clean, tasty smoke coating all the meat in the next compartment.”
Spencer stared at his shoes. “Yeah.”
“Don’t you want to see?”
“Not anymore.”
“Why not?”
He dug his toe into the gravel and kicked a stone towards the garage. “Cause.”
“Cause why?”
“Cause I already ruined your food once! I don’t wanna do it again!”
The kid had a tendency to go from little punk to tearful sweetheart in an instant. Just never learned how to stay the Spencer-in-between. I wrapped him up in a hug and squeezed.
He froze. Never knew how to handle physical contact. In that way, he was a little too much like his Uncle Tidus.
“It’s all in the past,” I said. “And I said I’d forgive you as long as you learned to properly cook barbeque. So, forget about it. We’ve got bigger fish to fry.”
Spencer frowned. “You’re making fish now too?”
“Uh. No. I just meant…we have a lot of work to do. We can’t cry over ruined brisket forever.”
His chest puffed out, big and tough. “I didn’t cry.”
Well, I sure as hell did. “Then you’re braver than me. Barbeque is a crazy competitive, super intense, utterly devastating culinary art. Only the strong survive in the pit. You best remember that.”
He grinned. “Cool.”
“Not even close,” I said. “If it’s cool, you’ve already failed. If it’s too hot, you’ve ruined it. If there’s too much smoke, it’ll taste bitter. If there’s not enough, you won’t get any flavor at all. If you want to make the absolute perfect, most mouth-watering, flake-off-your-fork tender cut of meat, you need eighteen hours of cook-time, a lifetime of study, and one really good teacher to show you how to do it right.”
“That sounds complicated.”
He had no idea. “Then it’s a good thing you have the greatest pit master this side of Ironfield to teach you her secrets…well, some of her secrets. Rule number one about barbeque and women…you’ll never solve every mystery—but you can get real close.”
Spencer eyed me with a skeptical, disheartened glance. For a kid with such bright blue eyes, doubt and distrust dulled their beauty.
“And you…” He asked. “Want to teach all this to me?”
“As long as you’re willing to learn.”
He hesitated. “You trust me that much?”
The kid broke my heart.
“This is a big responsibility,” I said. “The question is…do you trust yourself to handle it?”
He shrugged. “I guess so.”
That wouldn’t cut it. “The first weekend in June is the Brawl-B-Que in Ironfield. It is the biggest, most competitive, most ruthless barbeque cook-off on the East Coast. We only have two weeks to get ready. I guess so isn’t good enough for me. I’m gonna need your help to win it.”
Spencer pointed to himself. “Me?”
“That’s right.”
“…What about Uncle Tidus?”
/> A good question with a gut-punch of an answer.
I had no idea if I could ask him for help. No idea if he’d want to help. No idea if he even thought he could help.
And no idea where he’d be on the day of the competition.
Tidus had a bad habit of disappearing for days at a time. Didn’t matter if he told me he was leaving—getting ahold of him had been impossible. When he wanted to get lost, he made sure he couldn’t be found, especially by his family.
Especially by me.
“I’m not sure about Tidus,” I said. “He hasn’t agreed just yet…but I bet we can both convince him to help.”
Spencer hummed. “Might be better off without him.”
“Why’s that?”
“I’ve never seen Uncle Tidus make food. He drinks, sure. But he doesn’t cook.”
“And how many times have you ever cooked?”
The boy thought about it. “Never, I guess.”
“Then we have a lot of work to do before the competition, don’t we?” I handed him a mesquite log and pointed to the wood box. “Would you care to do the honors?”
For the first time in a week—since he’d inadvertently ruined my catering gig—the kid beamed a healthy, excited smile. He eagerly took the wood and gently lowered it into the woodbox. The coals did all the work, but a little puff of air helped the log to catch. I closed the door, showed him how to check the temperature, and tapped the chimney on the opposite end of the smoker.
“See this?” I waved a hand through the almost transparent smoke. “This is blue smoke. It gives the barbeque a really good flavor.”
“But there’s hardly any smoke,” Spencer said.
“Ah, yes.” I winked. “You might think you need a lot of smoke to make a good brisket, but too much makes it taste awful. The first and only rule of barbeque is mastering the fire. If you can make a good fire that burns cleanly, you’ll get good smoke and make good meat.”
Spencer laughed. “I’ve mastered fires…but no one really likes it when I start them.”
Oh Lord.
I took a deep breath. “Okay, firebug. From here on out, we only make fires in the smoker or grill. And, I promise, if you become a chef and learn how to make killer brisket, everyone will be happy about the fires.”
Well…
Almost everyone.
Tidus clamored down the stairs from the apartment, bag in hand, scowl on his face. He didn’t say a word. Just headed to his truck.
Fantastic.
“Tidus?” I called to him. “Are you going somewhere?”
He stopped, his hands tightening over his bag. His expression twisted—a blend of frustration and confusion. Like he wasn’t used to telling people his plans, where he was going, what he was doing.
Or maybe no one had bothered to ask in a very long time.
“Out,” he said.
He practically choked over the word. Didn’t want to talk. Didn’t want me asking questions.
Same thing he did last weekend.
And the weekend before.
It hadn’t been my business then. But now?
“When will you be back?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Don’t know.”
“Where are you heading?”
“Nowhere special.”
Yeah. Right. Another day, another mysterious disappearance from Tidus.
I couldn’t make sense of the man. It was like he searched for something—answers or guidance or trouble. Hell, it wouldn’t have surprised me if even he didn’t know why he searched.
Some mystery bothered him. Shadowed him. Tortured his thoughts. I couldn’t blame him.
He wanted to pull away from me.
Things between us had moved fast—too fast for both of us. And now? The truck was fixed, but my wallet remained empty. I needed to travel and work to pay Tidus for the repairs, but I hadn’t taken that step outside of Butterpond yet.
Instead, I’d leapt headfirst into whatever hole Tidus dug for himself. And it was my own foolishness, thinking that maybe I could offer him a bit of kindness, calmness, and a sense of belonging outside of the bedroom. But for as relaxed as he rested in my arms, he raged, frustrated and alone, beyond my embrace.
Every day was a struggle for him, but he tightened the noose around his own neck. Refused to ask for help. Couldn’t see his successes. And even now, he denied how badly it worried those who loved him.
Especially Spencer.
Tidus tossed the bag in the back of his truck, but his cell rang before he could slip into the driver’s seat. He glanced at the screen, swore, and retreated to his office to take the call.
The door slammed.
And Spencer got mad.
He kicked my woodpile, scattering the logs. I didn’t have to say anything. He immediately apologized, dropping to his knees to retrieve the bits of wood.
His voice broke with disappointment.
“He’s using again,” Spencer said.
My heart nearly stopped. “What did you say?”
“He’s using. Again.”
“Spence, that’s not true—”
“He’s been so good lately too. He won’t say it, but I can tell. He was all normal. Smiling. I knew he was clean.” Spencer scowled. “But now he’s acting all funny. Keeps sneaking off. Forgets that we’re supposed to go do stuff. He always got like this before a binge.”
I hated that an eleven-year-old understood this sort of problem.
Hated it more that he’d learned it through his Uncle Tidus.
But I hated most that, even for the slimmest of moments, I feared he was right.
“Tidus doesn’t have many people with faith in him anymore,” I said. “We’ve gotta be there for him. We owe him a little trust.”
Spencer shook his head. “You haven’t known him for very long.”
“No…but I do know he’s working really hard. Why do you think he’s…” I didn’t know the right words. “Having problems again?”
Spencer held his arms out. “Don’t you see it? Where’s he go all the time? All of his family is here in Butterpond. Why’s he always gotta go to Ironfield? Don’t you ever wonder what he’s doing?”
Yes.
But he’d never given me a straight answer, and I didn’t know the right way to ask.
Didn’t know if I could ask.
Tidus had threatened that he’d never lie to me, even to spare my feelings. If I asked him point-blank about the secrets…
“You know he goes to meetings now, right?” I asked. “Meetings to help people through those problems?”
Spencer shrugged. “He’s never said anything.”
“He wouldn’t, especially if he thought it might worry anyone. When he leaves…he’s probably going to those meetings. Talking about this stuff with people who understand it better.”
“Why don’t you go with him?”
I smirked. “I don’t think he’d like that very much.”
“Well, someone should go with him.” Spencer patted my hand. “Honey, you’re a real nice girl. But you don’t know what he was like when he was bad. He used to leave all the time and just go missing. Everyone thought he went out to die under the porch. You know. Like a cat.”
“I…never had a cat.”
“Well, now you have an Uncle Tidus. He’s just as bad, ‘cept he won’t make you sneeze.”
“Spence, you…gotta stay positive about your uncle…” I frowned. “And get some Benadryl for those allergies. You’ll see. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”
“I’m not a dumb kid.” He frowned. “I know all about this stuff, all right? All those drugs, it messes with people. Like my mom.” He didn’t speak her name very reverently. “She’s always been sick. Every day. All the time. Dad got real tired of it. That’s why he made me live on the farm when he got deployed. If I’d stayed with Mom…not like she’d even know I was there.” He looked down. “And now Uncle Tidus is gonna be the same way all over again.”
“Believe me—
Tidus is fine. He’s just working through some things by himself. He’s strong. He can resist it. I know he can.”
Spencer didn’t believe me. He kicked over a chair with a grunt. I reached for him, but he wasn’t the sort of boy who wanted his hands held and fears soothed. Grew up too fast to appreciate it.
Just like Tidus.
“I like you a lot,” Spence said. “But you don’t know Uncle Tidus like I do.”
That was true. “I’m trying to get to know him.”
“Do you mean it?”
“Yes.”
“…Do you love him?”
I choked. “That’s a complicated question.”
The boy rolled his eyes. “It’s not. Either you want to help him or you don’t.”
“I always want to help him.”
“Good. Then you better come with me.”
…I didn’t like the sound of that.
Liked even less that Spencer marched over to Tidus’s truck and hopped in the back. He waved an excited hand, encouraging me to follow him.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
Spencer acted like a gentleman and lowered the tailgate. “Are you coming or not? We don’t got a lotta time.”
“Before what?”
“Before Uncle Tidus finds us.” Spencer hissed in exasperation. “God, Honey. It’s like you’ve never snuck into a car before.”
“Get out of there. It’s filthy.”
“It’s real simple. If Uncle Tidus isn’t gonna tell us where he’s going tonight, we’re just gonna have to follow him.”
Oh. So, the little boy was clinically insane. Wished someone told me that before I handed him a lighter.
“So, your master plan is to stow-away in back of the truck?” I asked.
“You think he’ll let us ride in the front with him?”
A valid point. “You think I’m gonna let you ride in the bed of a truck on the highway?”
“I’ll be fine. Dad says I got sticky fingers.”
“That’s not what he meant…” I sighed. “Spencer, get out of the truck. It’s dangerous.”
The boy heard me. He just tossed an old tarp over his head anyway.
“Oh, no.” I ripped the plastic away. “You aren’t stealing a ride in his truck.”
It wasn’t hard to disappoint Spencer, especially when the entire world tried to keep him down. But his expression crumpled into near tears.
