American Honey

by Heidi McLaughlin

  I pull back. “Shit. Forgot about your sink.”

  She shrugs, pushing a curl out of her eyes. “It’ll still be there when you’re done kissing me.”

  I pull her back into my arms. “Fair enough.”

  Chapter Five

  The weeks that followed our first time together were full of laughter, good food, getting to know each other even better, and the hottest sex I’ve ever had. Every spare moment I’m not working on the farm, I’m over at Bethany’s. I can talk about anything with her and she with me. I finished that book she edited and am reading another one; only I’m not doing it alone this time. Now, as I read, I do it with her feet in my lap as she works.

  Together, we’ve also worked on and gotten frisky in just about every room of her house. She’s still just as messy as ever. There’s at least one unpacked box shoved in a corner of each room, but otherwise, her place looks great.

  I’ve questioned a couple of her paint selections, but after seeing those off the wall colors actually on the wall and surrounded by her things, I can’t help but like them. Each room has Bethany written all over them. There’s even some of me as well. The other day I mentioned how much I liked Ansel Adams pictures, just in passing. Next time I came over, there was one hanging up in her living room; it’s like she’s unconsciously fitting me into her future.

  At the farm, it’s assumed that I’m eating over at Bethany’s place unless I let them know she’s coming over to eat with us. She’s heading to Florida for a week in a couple days and it’s already messing with my head. Stupid what ifs that have zero basis is in reality plague me. What if she decides she wants to move to Florida? What if she tells her parents about me and they don’t think I’m good enough for her?

  I’ve been short and snapping at everyone around me all week. I’m on my way to my parents’ cabin, hoping the walk will clear my head and relax me. I try and stop by at least once a week to check on my folks. I haven’t told them anything is going on with me and Bethany yet. At this point, they just think we’re friends. I plan on telling them just how much I’ve grown to care for her today, and see if it’ll be all right for me to bring her by to meet them.

  I’ve told her all about them. She’s too married to technology to ever go off the grid like they have, but she still thinks the idea of it is romantic. It’s hard to think of my parents that way, as romantics. It’s almost as weird as knowing they had to have sex at least once for me to be here. I’m maybe fifty yards from their front door when it happens.

  Trying not to think about my parents sexual relations and not paying attention to where I’m walking is not wise in a wooded area. I step right on to a cottonmouth snake and thoroughly piss him off enough for him to bite me.

  “Damn it.”

  They aren’t extremely venomous, but I’ll still need to go to the hospital. This isn’t the first snake bite we’ve had on the farm, so I know not to panic. Thankfully, my mom keeps a four-wheeler at the cabin in case of emergencies. This qualifies. I limp the rest of the way to their place.

  Man, my leg hurts. The bite is on my left calf. Halfway to the cabin, I stop and call the house line.

  Luckily, Bess answers.

  “Bess, I got bit by a cottonmouth. I’m maybe twenty yards from Mom and Dad’s cabin, but it’s killing me to walk. Can you come get me?”

  “Be right there,” is all I hear before she hangs up.

  A half-assed glance behind me is all I can manage before sinking to the ground. I drag the back of my hand across my forehead to find I’m soaked with sweat. Something isn’t right. I’ve seen reactions to a cottonmouth bite before and they weren’t this bad. This is my last clear thought before I pass out.

  ****

  My eyes swim as I try and figure out where I am. It hurts, correction everything hurts, but my attempt to turn my head to look around hurts enough to make my head spin.

  “Hey, Beau.”

  It takes a moment for my eyes to focus on Bess. I’m still not sure where I am, but my nerves settle a bit at seeing a familiar face. That doesn’t stop my head from spinning. I’ve never been so dizzy lying down before.

  “What?” My throat burns so badly I stop at that one word.

  “Well, big guy. You gave us quite a scare. You had an allergic reaction to the snake bite and have been unconscious for the last two days.”

  I start to shake my head, but it makes the room spin.

  “Is somebody awake?” An unfamiliar voice precedes a woman in light blue scrubs entering the room.

  “Beau, this is Lilly, one of your nurses,” Bess explains.

  She turns my hand over, her fingers taking my pulse. “How are you feeling, Beau?”

  “I’m dizzy,” I rasp, keeping my eyes closed. “And thirsty,” I add.

  “I’ll grab you some water in just a minute. That sound good?”

  A slight nod of my head is all I can manage.

  She takes my temperature and checks my blood pressure. I zone out, trying to remember what happened.

  “Can you feel this, Beau?”

  Huh?

  “Can I feel what?” I ask, my eyes opening.

  She’s standing next to my left leg, a grim expression on her face.

  I lift my head to try and see what she’s doing. Even though my vision blurs and the exertion of lifting my head is exhausting, I need to see. She has my foot in her hand and is turning it from side to side.

  I’m watching her move my foot. I see it. My brain recognizes that I see it, but I can’t feel it. Time stands still as I tell myself to feel it, as if mind over matter could come into play.

  “Well?” she asks again.

  I let my head fall back to the bed allowing the exhaustion to win. “I can’t feel it.”

  There’s a gasp from the doorway and I turn my head, opening my eyes to see who it is. Bethany. Her eyes are wide, her hands covering her mouth. She clearly just heard I can’t feel my foot.

  “Darling,” I breathe and she rushes to my side.

  Her hands are on my face, her lips on mine. “Oh, my God, Beau. I was so scared.”

  “Shh.” I want to put my arms around her to comfort her, but I’m either too weak or medicated to.

  My nurse interrupts us, letting me know she is getting me some water. Bethany is so busy fussing over me; I barely notice when the nurse returns with my water. I open my eyes slightly, risking the dizziness to see Bethany. She’s holding my water, her hands shaking as she brings the bendy straw to my lips. Even here, no makeup, clearly sleep deprived Bethany is beautiful.

  When I notice the redness around her eyes, my chest tightens and my throat swells, making it hard to sip the water she’s offering me.

  “What happened?” I manage.

  Bess walks around to other side of my bed, opposite to where Bethany is standing and pulls a chair forward before taking my hand in hers. “You were unconscious when I got to you with the truck. Thank God, Bethany was with me when you called. If I’d have come by myself, I never would have been able to get you into the truck.”

  A sniffle pulls may attention to Bethany and I watch her wipe fresh tears from her eyes. I try to lift my hand again, but am only able to raise it a couple inches before it falls back onto the bed, useless.

  “Don’t cry,” I plead.

  She shakes her head and attempts a brave smile. “I was so scared,” she croaks, her voice thick.

  “I’m okay,” I try to reassure her.

  She leans over me, pressing her forehead to mine, her eyes squeezed tightly shut. Frustration bleeds from my inability to take her pain away, pain I caused. She drops a kiss on my lips before pulling away to collect herself.

  Bess clears her throat and I turn my head back toward her. “You had an allergic reaction to the venom and were in shock when we found you.”

  “Allergic reaction?” I repeat.

  “Yes,” a new voice confirms, entering the room.

  “Hello Beau. My name is Dr. Vanson.” An older gray-haired gentleman in
a lab coat says.

  I lift my chin in reply.

  “Ladies. I need a couple moments with Mr. Hamilton.”

  “They can stay,” I breathe.

  He goes right to examine my foot, turning it from side to side before lifting it asking me what that nurse had asked. I confirm that I still can’t feel what he’s doing. Instead of stopping like the nurse has, I watch as his hands move up my leg. He stops every inch to ask if I can feel anything. He’s almost to my knee before I do.

  As scary as the loss of sensation is below my knee, it’s a relief to know it doesn’t go farther than that.

  Bess asks the question on the forefront of my mind. “Is it permanent?”

  “Allergic reactions can present themselves differently from one patient to the next. Partial paralysis is not unheard of, and unfortunately, only time will tell if it is temporary or not.”

  He starts to explain a condition called foot drop or drop foot. This is important; this is stuff I need to know about. Unfortunately, my body has other ideas, and exhaustion claims me.

  The next time I wake, the room is much darker, only dim lights above a sink in the corner are on. I’m less disoriented and dizzy this time around. Light breathing to my right draws my attention. Even in the dim room, I know it’s Bethany. She’s curled up on a recliner, a long sweater as a blanket, her shoulder a pillow. Not wanting to wake her, I watch her sleep.

  Her being here, not leaving me is an unexpected relief in this otherwise scary moment. I’m not sure how long I’ve been watching her when a nurse, a different one from before, comes in to check on me. Her movement wakes Bethany. She rubs her eyes, groggy in a way I’ve grown used to from our occasional overnights. It takes a moment for her to realize I’m awake.

  When she does, she takes my hand in both of hers and presses it to her cheek. “Beau.”

  “Hey,” I rasp.

  “Are you thirsty?”

  I nod and she releases my hand to get me water. I only take a few sips before shaking my head to let her know I’m done. Then her hands grasp mine again.

  “I’m sorry I fell asleep before.”

  She squeezes my hand and kisses it. “You need your rest.”

  “I feel weak,” I grumble.

  For a moment, she looks as though she might cry. “Shh.”

  “I do,” I argue.

  One of her hands comes up to push hair back from my forehead. “Just give it time. The doctor said you’re going to be just fine.”

  “What about my foot?”

  “You might be unsteady but you should be able to walk, and since it’s your left foot, drive an automatic. He said something about needing to lift your leg higher when you walk since you won’t be able to lift your toes.”

  I rub my thumb back and forth across the back of her hand. “How are you?”

  She gulps, dropping her forehead onto our joined hands, her body shaking.

  “Get up here,” I plead.

  She shakes her head.

  “Dammit, Bethany. Get up here.” I just about beg.

  She slowly climbs up onto my bed and tucks herself against me. Sleep finds us both not long after. When the nurse comes back around to check on me again, Bethany doesn’t wake. The nurse takes pity on me and doesn’t make a fuss about her sleeping on the bed with me. After she leaves, sleep eludes me. Each time I wake, I’m not as weak. Relieved to be feeling like myself again, I just want to go home.

  Bethany wakes first the next morning, her sleepy stretching against me waking me as well. I’m sitting up comfortably the next time a nurse comes to check on me. The doctor visits me not long after. He’s pleased my strength seems to be returning and has me stand next to the bed. After he seems happy I won’t keel over, he okays the removal of my catheter. Thankfully, Bethany steps out of the room for that.

  The mind is a curious thing. No matter how many times my foot and leg have been poked and probed, I’m still surprised the first time I go to put weight on it that I can’t feel it. If Dr. Vanson hadn’t caught me, I would have fallen on my face. There’s just nothing there, no pins and needles, no soreness, nothing.

  I’ve delivered a couple of foals in my days, and I’m pretty sure my first steps weren’t that far off from theirs. I am motivated though, not wanting to piss myself in front of Bethany is inducement enough for me to figure it out.

  Hobbling over to the bathroom takes some getting used to. Getting to shower and brush my teeth makes it worth it. Bethany brought some sweats I was able to change into. It’s hard to feel manly taking small uncertain steps with your ass peeking out from a hospital gown.

  The next day, I still haven’t regained feeling in my foot, but it hasn’t stopped me from walking though. Reminding myself to lift my left leg higher is taking time. I’ve tripped more than once, dragging my toes since I can’t lift them. I should be able to go home today.

  I’ve got doctor’s orders not to walk in the woods in shorts and sneakers again and a prescription for an EpiPen to carry on me. No matter what, if I ever get bit again, I’ll still need to go to the hospital, but with the EpiPen, the hope is my reaction won’t be as extreme.

  It all makes sense to me, including the follow up appointment with a physical therapist to get fitted with a brace for my ankle. The brace should help keep me from rolling my ankle if I step weirdly. I’m working with the assumption that what’s happened to my foot is for good. Either way, there’s a farm I need to get back to whether my foot works or not.

  I hate to see Bethany so anxious. Being in the hospital, and her being here with me made our feelings for each other pretty clear. I’d like her to be in my future and am moving forward with that goal in mind. She wants the same thing, but I know she’s also worrying herself sick over me; I see it with every touch and every glance. I haven’t said anything yet, but I need to before she drives me crazy.

  She checks on me when I’m sleeping; worries about me working the farm, and tenses up at the mention of me driving. I respect that she doesn’t want anything bad to happen to me. Problem is, I need her to be my woman, not my mother.

  Chapter Six

  “I’ll be fine,” I grumble.

  Bethany glances at her suitcase and back at me. She canceled a trip to go to Florida and visit her parents when I got bit by that snake. I’ve been out of the hospital for a week now and convinced her I was well enough for her to reschedule her trip. Now that she’s supposed to leave tomorrow, she’s having second thoughts about leaving me.

  What happened was scary. Life goes on. I limp now; it sucks, but it could have been so much worse. I’d rather move on at this point. The hovering, the babying, and her nonstop nervous energy around me needs to stop, for both of our sakes. She moved out here to get away from the city and relax. She’s unfortunately doing the exact opposite of that.

  “What if you come with me?”

  Arching a brow at her¸ I groan. “It’s just a week.”

  She tries not to pout. Thank God I think she’s gorgeous and it comes off more cute than annoying. I should be thrilled she cares about me enough to want to take care of me. I’m just not that guy. Call me old fashioned but I want to take care of her or bare minimum meet her halfway.

  “I know,” she grumbles.

  I snake my arm around her waist and pull her into my lap. With that pout, those plump lips of hers are too much of a temptation to not sample.

  “Just think of how much I’ll miss you while you’re gone,” I tease, my hands full of one very fine ass.

  “I don’t want to leave you,” she breathlessly confesses against my lips.

  Figuring any argument to that is futile, I opt to give her a sendoff kiss she won’t forget anytime soon.

  I start to stand about to pull her up with me, but she slides off my lap before I can. A month ago, she wouldn’t have done that and it burns. I avoid her eyes, tense from her unspoken declaration of my inadequacies. Did she think I was going to stumble with her in my arms, or worse, that I was going to drop her all t
ogether?

  She goes to grab her suitcase but I stop her, my hand on hers. Our eyes, hers more brown than green, wage a silent struggle in which she relents and lets me win. I’m extra careful as I carry her bag so I don’t drag my toes and trip by mistake. We’re both tightlipped as we make our way out to my truck.

  The tension in the truck lessens when she reaches for my hand. Lifting her hand to my mouth, I hold her gaze as my lips caress her knuckles. When her mouth falls open, I have to shift in my seat as my body reacts. She’s been handling me with kid gloves since I got out of the hospital. My guess is she’s scared it’ll hurt me. Not something you want your woman thinking about you when it comes to sex.

  It’s a bit of a haul to the airport, but these days I’m more relaxed in my truck than anywhere else. You can’t trip if you aren’t walking and I don’t look like a gimp when I’m driving. We’re almost at the airport when I sense her tensing up.

  Trying to keep her mind from worrying about me, I give her hand a squeeze. “Promise not to get into any trouble.”

  She huffs, “I’m more worried about you.”

  “I’m a big boy, darling.” I pull up to the curb. “Don’t you worry about me.”

  She gives me a shaky smile before we both get out. I hold up my hand to stop her from grabbing her suitcase from the back. It’s already bad enough I’m dropping her off at the curb and not walking her in. Carefully, I set it down in front of her and pull the handle up for her.

  Her eyes soften, and I pull her to me for one long goodbye kiss. When my mouth leaves hers, she stumbles slightly as she steps back, my hands lock onto her waist to steady her. She presses her fingers to her lips, her cheeks flushing prettily.

  “I’ll call you when I land.” The husky lilt to her voice makes me want to kiss her stupid all over again.

  Watching her walk away from me is harder than I thought it would be. It’s just a week, I remind myself. We’ve fallen into this undefined relationship so easily. Dinners turned into overnights that became days that evolved into weeks of being together. Am I what she wants because there’s nothing else better around? She’s only had a taste of country living. Will it still be as idyllic after she’s had a chance to be back in a city again?