Like You Love Me (Honey Creek 1)

We also disagreed on the source of my mood.

Dottie was sure it was because of Sophie. She said marriage looks good on me. I told her my optimism stemmed from Montgomery’s visit tomorrow. I told her that I’ve been waiting on that day for weeks.

“That’s true,” I tell myself as I come to a stop sign. “But she’s not wrong either.”

I grin as I glance all four ways and then proceed through the intersection.

My mood probably has something—or a lot—to do with Sophie. It’s hard not to feel good when you’re with her. She’s a boost to the ego. She makes you feel good. Sophie has a way of making you feel like a light has been turned on inside you and that she sees you. It’s incredible. I can’t quite figure it out.

I lay in bed last night and watched her sleep against my chest. She slumbers so peacefully. She curls up next to me and wraps her leg around mine like she needs me to stay put.

It’s cuddling in its rawest form. It’s an act I’ve never been into . . . until now. Jessica and I used to build a wall between us with pillows because neither of us liked to touch while we slept. But now I look forward to going home and ending the day with Sophie up against me.

I glance at the clock. I have only twenty minutes before I need to get back to the clinic so Pap can head out to Birdie’s. A sign sits to my right, informing me that the Lemon Aid has deli sandwiches.

With a sigh, I pull in. There’s no way I can get to the Honey House and back to the clinic in twenty minutes if Sophie is home. I’ll find myself wanting to stay with her instead.

I have to be an adult.

Damn it.

I park the car and get out. The Lemon Aid sits in between a hardware store and a building that isn’t open anymore. It appears to have hosted music lessons or something at one point in the past.

My phone rings in my hand, and I look down at the screen. My dad’s number flashes as if it’s warning me not to answer. To not destroy my mood. I slide it back into my pocket.

Chimes ring against the door as I swing it open. Two cheery faces greet me with a wave and a hello as I step inside and inhale scents of cinnamon and vanilla.

A long counter runs the length of the building on my right. Behind it is a deli-style operation with a grill, a fountain beverage machine, and ice-cream freezers. On my left are tables and chairs and a booth or two.

In the back of the building is a pharmacy that looks like it came right out of a television show. It extends the width of the building and has little chairs in front for people to wait.

Walking inside here gives me a feeling of nostalgia. My mother worked here in high school, and her picture hangs somewhere on the wall above the tables and chairs. She used to bring me here for sandwiches when she’d pick me up in late July. Sophie and I would come in here, too, for milkshakes, as often as we could get money from our grandparents.

“Can I help you?” A blonde teenage girl smiles at me from the fountain beverage machine.

“Yes. Please. I’d like a turkey sandwich with lettuce, tomato, and pickle.”

“Sure. Would you like a drink? You can get a bag of chips and a drink for two more dollars.”

“That sounds great. Throw some plain chips and a cola on there for me.”

“You got it.”

I take a seat toward the back and fight the urge to get it to go. The Honey House is so close that I could still get my food and swing by there to say hello.

Instead, I get out my phone and flip through the news feed. None of the headlines are interesting, and I find myself mostly staring off in a daze until the chair across from me is rattled.

I look up to see a man about my age. He has reddish hair and a wide, friendly smile.

“You must be the vet,” he says.

“I am.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Aaron Andrews. I’m friends with Jobe Bates.” He grabs the back of the chair and slides it out. “How do you like it here? Jobe said you were from Arizona. Must be a big change, huh?”

“It is. But I came here a lot growing up, so I knew what I was in for.”

“That’s right. You’re Dr. Fred’s grandson.”

He smiles again. This time, it triggers a memory.

“Let me ask you something,” I say. “Did you try to bungee jump off that bridge south of town with a paracord back in the day?”

Aaron’s eyes light up. “I might’ve done something stupid like that.” His brows pull together. “You were there, weren’t you? You were the kid there with Sophie.”