“I need to get out of here. I need to…” Panicked, she didn’t know what she needed to do. Her thoughts were chaotic. Her body numb.
“Oh, Simone.” Her voice broke. “Why?” she cried as she turned around. She saw the anguish in Simone’s eyes. Her friend’s voice shook when she spoke.
“I think you should talk to him. You’ll regret it if you don’t. And there’s almost nothing worse to live with than regret.”
John Blackwell had said the same thing.
It took a bit, but Honey managed to get her emotions in check. She knew her friend wouldn’t do something like this unless there was a reason. Just like she knew that if Nash had gone to all this trouble to find her after everything she’d done, the least she could do was give him five minutes.
“Where is he?”
A few moments passed, and then Simone answered quietly. “Outside.”
24
Nash was so damn nervous, he wanted to puke.
Which was ironic considering he was the guy who scaled mountains in Tibet. Rode the big waves in Australia. Went deep-sea fishing off the coast of Africa and scaled sheer rock walls in Arizona. In each of his dangerous adventures, he’d known the outcome. He would win. Get to the finish line. Collect the prize and move on to the next adventure.
Hell, not even his first big game at Texas A&M had made his gut clench the way it was right now. And that had been a big deal for a young kid from Michigan. But this was different in a way he found hard to articulate. This was as real as it got. He was either going to make things right and have a chance to live a life with the only person he would ever love, really love, or he was about to fail epically and return to Michigan with nothing to show but a truckload of regret.
Honey Harrison was a different game altogether, because she wasn’t a game. She wasn’t a prize or an obstacle to hurdle. She was his life, and he’d screwed up big-time. He’d hurt her more than he’d ever hurt another person, and he wouldn’t blame her one bit if she didn’t want to see him.
But hell, he’d park his butt at the bar and settle in for the evening if he had to. Which, considering he’d been waiting nearly ten minutes already, was a possibility. And this bar boasted a guy who glared at him as if he was the biggest piece of shit in Florida. When he’d walked in with Simone, the bartender, Nick, had looked Nash up and down with an expression pretty close to disgust. It was obvious he knew who Nash was, and that made Nash wonder. Honey didn’t trust people, so if she’d shared their history with this guy, what did that mean?
Simone ignored the attitude, asked the guy where Honey was, and he’d told them she was in the back with Stinker. Nash wasn’t sure who or what Stinker was, and Nick sure as hell wasn’t offering up any information.
He craned his neck to see over the crowd gathered near the bar, anxious to get on with things, and then he saw her. She appeared out of nowhere, clutching something white in her arms, hair in a high ponytail, eyes huge as she scanned the room. When she found him, he felt her as if she were standing next to him, her hands on his skin, her scent in his lungs.
His heart took off as she whispered something to Nick, and his dislike for the man tripled when he saw the way she touched his arm. Was he too late? Had he already lost? She came around the bar and headed his way. She wore a large cardigan that fell almost to her knees, and kept her eyes averted. She didn’t stop as she passed by, but he heard her words.
“We’re not doing this here.”
Honey headed for the exit without missing a beat. The entire exchange lasted all of five seconds. It was over and done with, and she was gone. Nash stared after her with a hunger that clawed at him and made him weak. He inhaled a shaky breath and dragged his hands across the stubble on his jaw.
“Can I get you anything, sugar?” An attractive blonde holding a tray looked at him expectantly, but Nash gave a quick shake of his head and jogged past her, following in Honey’s footsteps.
She was ahead of him, walking briskly with the small dog trotting along at her side. It didn’t take him long to catch up.
“Honey, can we—”
“Not here,” she said. Her voice was thick and the set of her shoulders tense. Nash knew enough to give her some space and kept a few feet behind as they wove their way through the crowded streets of Key West. It was ten at night, and the air was still thick with a humidity that made it hard to breathe. A lingering scent of honeysuckle and other fragrant flowers colored the air. It was warm and hazy and sensual, and his gaze never moved from Honey. She was bundled up as it were February in Michigan; he hoped she wasn’t sick.
He wasn’t sure how much time passed—five minutes? Ten? But eventually, he found himself standing in front of a cute bungalow bathed in moonlight and shadows. She was already in—the front door slammed shut—and a light came on, shining from a large bay window. It illuminated a cascade of gardens along an interlocking brick walkway. There was a white picket fence that ran the length of the ho
use, with honeysuckle and clematis climbing up its edges. He smiled, a bittersweet sort of thing, when he remembered how she’d made fun of his parents’ postcard home with its fence. This place was a surprise.
Nash made his way up the walkway and let himself inside. The dog gave a low growl and bared its teeth, but the tail waving like mad told a different story. He bent forward and let the little animal sniff his fingers. The purple-and-pink collar told him it was a girl, and once the dog was satisfied he was no threat, she licked his palm and ran to a bowl, where she lapped up water enthusiastically and made a mess of things.
He glanced around the small bungalow, surprised to see how much it looked like a home—he couldn’t help but think how unlike Honey that was. She hadn’t vaulted over to the dark side or anything—there weren’t family photos or anything like that. But small things like the multicolored throw blanket across the cream-colored sofa or the large vase of hydrangeas on the kitchen table did the trick.
The patio doors to the back were open—billowing clouds of gauzy material caused by a breeze off the water told him so—and without hesitation, he headed out back. Here again, he was surprised. A small garden to his left was lit up with several solar lights that created a cozy ambiance around a table for four. Surrounded by potted palm trees and huge hibiscus, it was warm and inviting. Beyond that was more foliage and then the beach.
“Say what you came to say and then leave.”
The voice came at him from the shadows that crept along the edge of the yard. She was there, standing among some palm trees. He watched her for a few moments, unnerved because he was finally here and the rest of his life was hanging on a thin thread.
“Can I see you?” he asked quietly, eyes on the shadows. Large palm trees swayed in the breeze, and he was sure she’d ignore him, but then Honey stepped forward. Shadows still clung to her, but he could see her features. The face that had haunted him for months. The eyes that were seared into his brain. The mouth that trembled and gave a hint of the emotion inside her.