Page 112 of Came the Closest

“Yes?”

She kisses the underside of my jaw and shifts to look at me. “Can we go get Milo from your dad’s house?”

Months ago, I’d have never imagined missing a child after being separated for less than twelve hours. Today, the question makes me smile.

“Yeah,” I say, dropping a kiss on her exposed shoulder. “Let’s go get our boy, my love.”

Going to get Milo becomes a full family brunch at Dad’s. Gran arranges strawberries into a heart shape, Hazel flips blueberry pancakes, and Jolene insists on setting the outdoor table all by herself. My dad grills sausages, and Graham tugs his shirt off to jump in the lake with Milo while Nash quizzes Ember on her next novel. I tease Jordan about getting married before him, and he says since Graham got married first, second and third places don’t count.

Now, after brunch, I wander down to the dock. Indi sits facing the lake, her damp blonde hair twisting at the tips of her sun pinkened shoulders. Her toes skim the water and her fingers curl around the edge of the dock, light wash denim shorts contrasted by a red bikini top.

I lower down next to her slowly. I sink my feet below the surface of the lake and squint up at the sky to comment on a boat shaped cloud, but my stomach growls.

Indi side eyes me. “Casanova, we literally finished eating like ten minutes ago.”

“Okay, one, that was only brunch,” I say, holding up a finger. “My wife and I worked up quite—”

“No,” Indi says, plugging her ears. “Colton, do not finish that sentence.”

Grinning, I say, “And two, I don’t think the nickname Casanova is very applicable for me anymore.”

“I’ll stop calling you Casanova when you stop calling me Blue.”

“Not a chance.”

She shrugs and faces forward again, her shoulders tensing. Sunglasses try and fail to keep her hair out of her face, so she tucks it behind her ear. I would typically open the conversation, but this time, I don’t. Cheyenne is busy helping Milo build a boat in a bottle while Jolene hovers at her elbow. I’ve got all the time in the world.

“You know that I’m really happy for you guys,” she says quietly. “Right?”

“So she says through tears.”

Her mouth curves into a frown. “Why are you narrating me in third person?”

“I’m just making an observation.”

“Yeah, well.” She shrugs. “I mean it.”

“I know you do. But I also know you’re scared of what happens next.”

She angles farther away from me. “I’m used to Maine winters. I’ll be fine. Might even ask Dad to keep the dock in so I can sit on it all year.”

That’s not possible and we both know it.

“Indigo, look at me.”

A sharp breath fills her chest. I don’t use our sister’s full name like Jordan does. It feels too impersonal, too cold. But I need her attention, and it does the trick. Cool blue eyes meet mine and thinly veiled fear lurks in their depths.

“Cheyenne and I will never remove you from Milo’s world, or you from his,” I say. “We might be adopting him, but he’s still your little brother just like you’re my little sister.”

Indi doesn’t say anything. She bites the corner of her lip and glances away.

I pull a piece of paper from the pocket of my swim trunks and pass it to her. “If you’re interested, we want you to live with us, and be Milo’s nanny when we need it. My wife is planning to paint more often, so it would be helpful if she needs some uninterrupted creative time. But it’s not just that; we also want you around, Blue.”

For the first time since I gave her the nickname last year, she doesn’t scowl. Laughter parts her lips as she looks at the number on the paper, and she lifts her hand to press the back of her wrist against her welling eyes.

“I haven’t cried since we lost her,” she says. Moisture clings to her pale lashes, turning them a shade darker. “It makes it too real.”

I blow out a weighted breath. “I know it does.”

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