27. Fable

Chapter 27

Fable

A pparently, we gotta wait to actually go on the date because Gunnar is busy this week with the horses, so when I wake up Monday and find Rhett on my porch, I'm not surprised.

"Is today finally the day?" I ask, grinning.

"It is," he declares. "Today, you're gonna meet my bees."

We don't take his truck. Instead, he loads me up inside the four-by-four, which feels more like a golf cart than anything else, so it doesn't trigger any panic attacks. He has the back full of large totes that we're going to put the frames in, and he's dressed in his bee outfit. Once we get out to the hives, he hands me my own white beekeeper suit and I happily pull it on. The rubber boots he gives me are too large, but I manage to move around in them decent enough. He also gives me the large hat with mesh around it to cover my face.

"Look at you, cosplaying as a beekeeper," he says, grinning.

I strike a pose, and he laughs. "Do I look the part?"

"Perfectly," he laughs, but then his smile eases a little. "Sorry I haven't brought you out here sooner," he apologizes as he helps me finish zipping up my outfit. "I've been busy."

"With the guy in the black car?" I ask.

He glances at me sharply. "That was nothing."

"Sure seems like nothing," I murmur but he clearly hears me. He doesn't respond to it though.

"Okay, so," he says instead, moving around the car. "What do you know about bees?"

"That they make honey?" I answer, grimacing.

He scoffs. "They do much more than make honey," he starts, and thus begins Rhett Thomas' lecture about the importance of bees in the world. And I gotta admit, it's the sexiest thing about him.

"There are three types of bees in the hive," he explains. "A queen, drones, and workers. The workers are always female. The drones are always male. They all have their own very specific jobs, depending on age and characteristics." He walks me over to a hive. "Every hive has its own queen. She can live anywhere between a year to five. The workers only live about forty-five days, and the drones even less."

"Why don't the drones live very long?" I ask curiously as he starts to fog the nearest hive.

"Their only purpose is to have sex with the queen and make more bees," he replies. "They literally die afterward. Penises explode." He glances at me with a grin. "Don't get any ideas."

"I would never," I laugh, leaning in as he points out different bees.

"Only the females can sting you. See this one here, this is a drone. He can't sting you." He moves his hand and opens up the hive. "And this here is the queen. She's busy laying eggs. Her name is Bee-yonce."

I snort. The bees buzz around us, dancing to and fro, going about their work. They ignore the two of us as we hover around their hive. "Bee-yonce?" I ask.

He nods and points to another hive. "I name all my queens. The one over there is Celine Bee-on. Suzan Bee Anthony is further down. My newest queen is named Bee-atrice."

My laughter tumbles from my lips at each name. "Oh, top tier names," I commend him. "You did an amazing job."

He grins. "Well, I had to name my queens. They're the only ladies I've ever been able to commit to," he shrugs.

As if that isn't the saddest thing he's ever said.

My smile falls. "Rhett?—"

"Hey, so I have a question," he interrupts as he starts pulling frames from the hives and placing them in the totes to take back to the ranch. He winces when he realizes he interrupted me. "Oh, go ahead."

"No, you go ahead," I encourage, wondering what he'd been about to say. I probably would have overstepped.

He nods and turns toward me. "So, when you made the reservation, you name was on there, but there was another name. We expected two."

I freeze and he picks up on it, his eyes on me.

"Yes," I finally say.

"Jinx Everhart," he speaks, letting her name ring between us. His bright blue eyes watch me carefully. "Your sister?"

I clear my throat. "Best friends, but we changed our last names when we were twenty-one to match. Picked it out ourselves."

" Damn straight we did ," Jinx's voice echoes in my mind, but I don't see where she's at, the image that haunts me nowhere to be seen.

"We wanted something that sounded epic," I add, my voice thicker than I'd like. How long has it been since I've talked about Jinx with anyone other than Dr. Julia? Since before the wreck probably.

"Job well done," he nods. "It sounds like you belong in a fantasy novel."

I laugh, my voice thick. "Yeah. That's what Jinx always says. We were just waiting on our own adventure to start."

He nods again as he starts working on pulling more frames out. I know he won't take them all because the bees need honey to survive the winter. He'd already gone on a tangent about it on the ride out here. "Y'all sound close." When I nod, he glances at me. "So why didn't she come?"

I freeze where I'd been reaching forward to help and meet his eyes. I try to say the words, but I choke on them. He immediately sets down the frame and takes my hand.

"Sorry, I asked," he backpedals. "I didn't mean to upset you."

"I. . . I want to tell you," I admit. "I just. . . I haven't told anyone. . ."

He tugs me into a hug. It feels weird in our beekeeper suits, but I hug him back. Somehow, it's exactly what I need, and I never expected that from Rhett. When he goes to let me go, I hold him tighter, not wanting to see his face. He doesn't complain, his strong arms looping around me and holding on.

"She died," I whisper. The bees buzz around us, adding to the drama of my whisper. "Eight months ago, Jinx and I went to our local ren fest."

"Ren fest?" he asks.

"It's like medieval times stuff where everyone dresses up and is in character. You can buy stuff, like turkey legs." I pause. "We'd been drinking, so we knew we couldn't drive. We called a rideshare. We were both in the back seat when. . . a semitruck ran a red light." He squeezes me tighter. Jinx flickers in the middle of the bees, her eyes sad as she watches us embrace.

"We. . . we rolled," I choke out. "They had to cut us out. The truck. . . it hit the driver's side. I was on the other." I take a deep shaking breath. "They told me she died instantly, that her neck broke on the first impact."

"Were you hurt?" he asks.

I nod into his neck. "My leg. I lost it after the wreck. Too damaged to repair. But I was also beat up pretty badly. Two months in the hospital."

"I'm sorry," he rasps, his arms warm around me.

"Jinx, she booked this trip as a surprise for my birthday. I didn't know until the email showed up," I rasp as I finally let him go and step back. He lets me go without a fight. "I almost cancelled it, but I'm glad I didn't."

He tilts his head to the side, studying me. "That's why you can't ride in a car without driving."

I wince. "My therapist says I have PTSD. If I'm driving, I'm in control."

He sighs. "I understand. More than you know."

"You do?" I ask. I'm reminded again of Mel's brief mention about his family, so I reach out and take his hand.

"When I was a kid," he starts, sitting down on the ground. I follow, sitting cross-legged in front of him. Sitting amongst the bees feels therapeutic somehow. I suddenly understand why Rhett likes being out here with them. "When I was sixteen," he tries again. "I was a hellion. Always getting into trouble," he admits. "My parents, despite that, never treated me as a problem child. They knew it was a phase, that I'd grow out of it given enough time, but I was always causing mischief." He picks at the grass in front of him. "I had a little sister, nine years younger than me, and she was always sick. They'd wanted me to go with them to the doctor, but I'd refused, wanting to go to school and hang out with my friends. So they went without me." He looks down, refusing to meet my eyes. "I got off the bus in time for the cops to show up with the news."

I let out a deep rattling breath. "That must have been hard as a kid."

He laughs, but there's no humor in the sound. "You have no idea. I almost lost the ranch. . . a few times. If it weren't for Trent, I'd have run it into the ground. He's my adoptive brother, so he was around for all of this. The others did their best to help, too."

"What?" I blink, surprised. "I didn't realize you and Trent were brothers."

He shrugs. "By adoption we are. We don't exactly broadcast it. My parents adopted him when he was sixteen, and he's two years older than me. He was in a shitty situation and my parents, they were saints. Adopted him when no one else wanted to. I think that loyalty they earned is what keeps him here with me. God knows I ain't ever earned it myself."

I tilt my head. "He seems comfortable here."

"But is comfortable happy?" he asks, tapping my beekeeper hat with his finger.

"That. . . I don't have an answer for that," I reply honestly. Because sometimes, yes, comfort is happiness, and sometimes. . . it can be a crutch. "So how did you save the ranch? You got more bees?"

His face darkens and I immediately realize I've asked a question I shouldn't. I open my mouth to tell him never mind, but he taps me on the knee and stands.

"Let's not talk about things like that," he says, reaching down to help me off the ground. "I have an idea, Wild West Barbie. Come on. The bees will still be here when we get back."