Page 44 of Worth the Want
“Indie!”
I turn to face him, exhausted from being in the sun all day, even though I mostly just laid in it.
“Yes?” I ask, looking at him standing on the road holding a dozing Hazel.
“Do you want to come to our place for dinner?” His question is unexpected, but Han has always said the best things are. I think I’m starting to believe her. My hopes could be getting a little too high for comfort. I shouldn’t want to penetrate this man’s walls so badly, but I do. I want to know him. Better than anyone. And maybe more than anything. I want him to really know me.
“Yes.”
Iwork hard to control my gaze. Indiana makes it difficult for me to focus on anything but her. She’s telling Hazel about the big zoo in Atlanta she loves—complete with sound effects for each corresponding animal. My lips twitch when her elephant impression has Hazel belly laughing in earnest. I’m trying to cover my laugh with a cough when she imitates an orangutan.
It’s nice. Having her here. I wasn’t prepared to enjoy her company on a regular basis. We started having Indie over for dinner a few weeks ago. After Hazel’s birthday party, I was left with more questions for her than I liked. She makes me curious. When Hazel begged her to come see her fairy garden and then to stay for dinner, I didn’t fight her on it; in fact, I was happy to have an excuse to get closer to her. Her presence is like a beacon that draws me in at an alarming rate.
Alarming because never in my wildest dreams would I have thought that watching a woman sit on my front porch pretending to be the whole zoo would absolutely captivate me. Also, it’s been years since I’ve thought about spending timewith a woman who wasn't a member of my immediate family or marrying into it.
Indiana’s voice carries through the open door and into the kitchen to me while I stir the butter sauce for our gnocchi. “What is your favorite animal?” she asks Hazel, coloring on the roll of paper between them.
“A shark!”
“A shark? Oh my goodness. I don’t know a lot about them other than what I read in a fact book that there are over 450 different kinds,” she says absent-mindedly, still coloring with her black crayon.
“They swim in the ocean,” Hazel informs her.
“Have you ever been to the ocean?”
“No.”
“Me either. Do you think we could draw it?”
“Yes!
“Perfect. What colors should we use?”
They carry on like that, Hazel asking Indie if she likes what she’s drawing over and over, and Indie patiently answering and reassuring her that her colorful fish are a work of art until I call them in for dinner. When they make it to the kitchen, I notice that Indie’s handkerchief of the day is now tied in Hazel’s hair. It’s light blue, the same color as her socks. I’ve never made the connection before and wonder if she always matches them.
“Oh, shit,” I mutter, having spilled the glass of water Indie left sitting on the counter beside me. She’s always leaving her cups around, which leads to a lot more spills than usual, and I’m not used to having to navigate having another adult in my space like this. I walk to the linen closet to grab a towel, and when I get back, I don’t see the girls on the porch anymore.
I lay the towel on the counter and look out the window tosee them walking down the path to the dock. Indie holds her camera up, snapping pictures of Hazel as she goes. I watch for a minute before wiping up the rest of the water. Turning back, I catch sight of the sunset over the lake, then I see a small figure out on the dock—alone.
My blood runs cold as I take off out of the house.
“I want to show my dance moves!” I hear Hazel yell, twirling in place. With each spin, my panic rises.
“Oh my, that was a big one,” Indie calls from the edge of the dock—several feet from Hazel.
“Hazel!” I yell, my voice so loud, both of them flinch at the sound, heads snapping toward me. “Off the dock. Now.”
“Knox?” Indie questions. I’m only a few steps from her now.
“What the hell were you thinking?” I accuse.
“W-what?” she asks timidly as Hazel hops off the end of the dock onto solid ground.
“You let her out on the dock alone?” I ask, picking Hazel up.
“It was only a few feet from me. I wasn’t going to?—”
“And without a life vest?” I accuse, adrenaline still pumping through me. Her face crumples at that.
