Page 62 of Run For Your Honey

I wanted to believe in him. But he’d have to prove his worth again, this time more than ever.

And I truly hoped he could do it.

When the conversation died down, I drifted back to sleep.

I didn’t know how long I was out, but when I woke, it was dark out. Poppy had pulled a chair up to my bed, took my hand, and passed out. My chuckle didn’t quite make it out, my throat a wasteland. But I slipped my hand out of hers to brush her dark hair from her sleeping face.

She was up like a shot, blinking at me. Smiling at me. Tearfully climbing onto the bed so she could hold my face and kiss me. I thumbed her tears. She thumbed mine.

When she caught her breath and leaned back, smiling, she said, “Your parents will be back in a minute. They just left to get some food—I’ll call them.”

“No,” I croaked. “Let them eat. Just… don’t leave me.”

“I won’t,” she promised. “Usually it’s me begging you not to leave,” she joked.

When I opened my eyes, I could see a little better. “I never should have.”

“No, you shouldn’t have,” she said on a small laugh.

I reached for her, fumbled for her hand, pulled her closer. “I don’t want to. Not ever again.” At her confusion, I added, “I didn’t get to tell you at the high school that I was dropping out of the race.”

“You… what?”

“Planned to drop out in the morning, had a speech and everything.” I tried to laugh, but flinched at the pain in my ribs. “You deserve this, Poppy. All you want is the good of the town, and everything I wanted was for myself. It’s yours. It was always yours. I just got in the way.”

“Duke, I—”

“No, lemme finish.” I took a labored breath and blinked more of the fog from my eyes, tugging her hand until she was sitting next to me. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for all of it—for hurting you, for leaving you. I’m sorry that it took me coming home and hurting you again to realize what a fool I’ve been. But I’m not leaving. I understand if I’m out of chances, Poppy. But I’m not giving up until I’ve earned your respect. And your love, if you’ll ever give it to me again.”

“What about your job?” she asked quietly. “Your career? You’re just… not going back?”

“Charlie told me if I didn’t win, I was through. Dropping out meant giving all that up.”

“Duke, you—”

“I don’t care about any of it, Poppy. All I care about is you—it took me too long to figure that out. I’d quit over and over again if it meant I won you instead.”

“Well,” she started, “I love you for dropping out for me. But you didn’t have to do that.”

My heart sank, my chest aching in its absence. “I’m too late?”

She chuckled, filling me with hope. “No. You lost anyway.”

A laugh shot out of me too fast to catch, and I bent into the ribs I was now sure were broken. “Ow, fuck. Are you serious?” I couldn’t stop laughing, and it hurt like a motherfucker. “I couldn’t even beat you on a pity vote? I nearly died.”

“Guess not. But I appreciate the gesture all the same.” Her hand on my face was heaven. Last time it’d been there, it was to deliver a slap. “And about one more chance… I figure if you dodged the Blum curse, betting on you is a sure thing.”

“Third time’s a charm?”

“It’d better be. God knows I can’t do this again.”

“Kiss me, Poppy, and I’ll stay forever.”

“What will you do in Lindenbach?”

“Does it matter? I’ll have you. I don’t care about anything else—”

She kissed me with tenderness and relief and joy wrapped up in a sighing yes.

And I thanked my lucky stars that I’d lived to see it.

26

CURSE SCHMURSE

POPPY

The next two weeks were a blur.

It took about that long for the last person—Megan—to be released from the hospital, and slowly but surely, they were all recovering. Somehow, everyone was okay.

My sisters and mother and I decided we’d bested the curse after that level of miracle.

We’d brought Duke back to our house when he was released more than a week ago, and I’d been playing nurse around a few small appearances as mayor ever since.

I suspected the only reason I won was because Duke was dumb enough to publish that article. If he’d just been still, he probably would have smoked me. Of course, he’d planned to hand it to me anyway in a gesture so grand it had doomed his career. And I must be a sucker, because it worked.

Nash spent every moment devastated and miserable and grief-stricken over what he’d done from Megan’s bedside. He whispered quiet prayers with one of her lifeless hands in both of his, and his prayers were finally answered. When she woke, it was to the tearful, renewed promise to devote himself to her and to his sobriety. He’d found his rock bottom when he nearly killed the woman he loved.

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