Page 103 of Creeping Beautiful

Indie was heartbroken, of course. But we were there. All three of us because Donovan was making an effort to be home most weekends.

And then Nathan went away to Ole Miss and didn’t bother us again for two whole years.

But when he finally did work up the nerve to bother us again—he did it in a very big way.

“What are you doing?”

I startle and turn to see Indie standing in the doorway, immediately positioning myself between her and the crib. There’s a tractor in the way too. And lots of equipment and boxes. So I’m pretty sure she can’t see the crib.

I don’t want her to remember like this. I don’t want those memories to hit her in the chest like a fucking fist when Adam isn’t even here yet.

So I say, “Hey, Indie,” like none of this is a big deal. “Will you go into the house and get some blankets? I’m gonna hook the TV up, and hang the curtains, and put all the cushions out. We can eat dinner out here tonight and watch a movie like old times. That would be nice, right?”

Indie smiles for a moment, maybe picturing this idea in her head and deciding she likes it. “Yeah, OK. I’ll be right back.” She turns, but then she stops and looks over her shoulder at me.

“What?” I ask, afraid maybe she did see the crib.

“You know… you’re always welcome to join us.”

I huff a little, because I know what she’s talking about, but I say, “What?” again. Like I don’t understand.

She rolls her eyes and turns away. Starts walking back towards the house. But then she calls over her shoulder. “You know what I’m talking about, McKay. I’m not playing games with you.”

I do a little salute to her back. Yes, ma’am. I do. Just… not in the mood to have that conversation right now, thank you.

Adam talked about this once. Just once. Just before Indie’s twentieth birthday.

Look, I’m not stupid. I know what Adam wants from me. From us. Well, maybe not Donovan. But definitely me and definitely Indie.

There has always been this bond between Adam and me. Sometimes it was like brothers. Other times it was like friends. But every now and then, when we were teenagers, mostly. I would catch him watching me. And when I did this he would not avert his eyes. He would not play it off. He would just stare.

So this time, right before Indie’s twentieth birthday, he came up to me outside. I was fishing on the river. Or… pretending to. Just thinking mostly. Because that was right about the time Indie started to unravel.

Adam took a seat in the sand next to me. Bent his knees up and rested his forearms on them. His hair was a little too long still from the shaved-head incident. He just didn’t wear it the same after that. So he was looking at me from under some hair that had fallen over his eyes.

And he said, “We could…”

He paused then. I remember that pause. Because for some reason I knew what he was gonna say. I just fuckin’ knew. So I was holding my breath. Because I didn’t want to talk about it. I wasn’t sure what to say, or how I felt, or anything.

But he didn’t catch that. Or maybe he did, and decided to ignore it. Because after he was done pausing, he said, “We could just all be together, McKay. You. Me. Indie. I think it would make her happy. Maybe even… change her a little. And it would solve a lot of problems.”

I looked at him. Turned my head, but nothing else. And just looked at him.

He sighed pretty heavily and went back to staring at the water and we were silent for a little while.

He got up to leave. Just figured he was gonna let his offer hang there, I guess. And I decided I actually did have something to say about that.

“I don’t think it’ll work.”

He was on his feet now. So he was staring down at me. “Which part?”

“Any of it.”

“Why not, McKay?”

“Because we don’t even know that’s what she wants.”

“I’m not really asking about her, McKay. I’m asking about you.”