Page 86 of Worth the Want
“Why?” I question.Why am I questioning it?
He laughs, taking my face in his hands. “Where do you want me to start?” he asks, kissing my forehead. “Your heart that’s bigger than you?”Kiss.“Your smile that lights up brighter than the sun?”Kiss. “The way you care for Hazel?”Kiss.“The way you tell a story like it's a full-length novel?”Kiss. “How you demand attention without even trying?”Kiss.“Your charm? Your wit? Your sweatshirts?”Kiss. Kiss. Kiss.
Another sob breaks loose from my throat. “I’m so in love with you, Knox. I was so scared you wouldn’t feel the same,” I whisper. “Not after hearing all the baggage I come with.”
“You are worth the wanting, Indiana. I started falling for you the day you kicked me off the end of the dock.” He kisses me again. Hard. I kiss him back with all I have until he pulls back to look at me, and I remember something he said before.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Anything.”
“Um, earlier, you said that what happened on the porch?—”
“Have I told you how incredibly awful I feel about that or how I’ll make it up to you?” Knox cuts in.
“You did...but you said it wasn’t about me. What was it about?”
He takes a long breath in before letting it go. “I had a phone call this afternoon, one I wasn’t expecting, and it completely threw me off. To be honest it really pissed me off, but more than that, it scared me. Emily’s parents are asking to be in Hazel’s life, now after everything, and I—well, it’s kind of a long story.” I almost smile hearing him say the words I say to him so often.
“Tell me,” I encourage, and he does. We bare our souls to one another all night, exorcising our own demons but not doing it alone, and when the morning comes, my cheek pressed into Knox’s warm, bare chest; my pain isn’t gone but it’s not mine alone to carry anymore.
I make two phone calls, starting with one I’ve put off for too long.
“Hello? Indiana?”
“Mom?”
Beep.
“I love you.”
“I know.”
“I think it’s time,” I say into my phone. “You’ll be happy to know that I won’t be doing it alone from now on.” I breathe out a sigh. “I called Mom and Dad. They’re coming to visit me next month,annnndyou won’t believe this, but Knox—the man from the bar who stood me up.And before you start, he had a good reason. Actually, he had the only reason that I could forgive. He has a daughter. She’s beautiful and funny and she likes me. She likes playing with me. She’s curious and?—”
I choke a little but manage to swallow it down. “She reminds me of you. Knox even calls her dragonfly. He has a tattoo on his thigh of one that looks like the one I got for you. So hot, right?” I choke a little on my laugh.
I pause. Knowing this next part will be the hardest. It’sanother goodbye. One I’ve been prolonging, but one that feels inevitable.
“I don’t know if you hear the things I say, Han. I guess I just hope that you do. Believing that somewhere out there, my words make it to you helps me. I hope you’re at peace, or I hope you’re giving someone hell, whatever it is that you want. I miss you. I miss having youhere.There isn’t and there won’t be a day that goes by that I don’t wonder what you would do or say or tell me. I’ve been telling Hazel stories about us as kids, and one day, when I have more kids, I’ll tell them all about you. God, you would have been the best aunt.” I break a little, allowing the sob that’s built in my chest out. “All this to say, I’m going to be okay. This place is good for me. The people here are good for me. I love you. I miss you. Bye, Dragonfly.”
Indie is humming softly from the bathtub while Hazel is coloring in the doorway, after insisting it was fine for her to be there, and asking her questions. I’m sitting in the corner of the room looking through postcards. After my birthday two weeks ago, I wasn’t sure if she would want me to read them, but she doesn’t want any secrets between us. Some of her words make me laugh, and some of them make me want to scream.
I look at the woman in my bathtub. She’s so lovely, just looking at her, how she treats the people around her, you wouldn’t think she’d been through something so horrific. I love that part of her—every part of her.
“Is this blue or purple?” I look over to the crayon Hazel is holding up.
“I think it’s blue,” I say.
“I was asking Indie.”
Indie coughs to hide her laugh. It doesn’t work.
“I think it’s a dark purple,” she answers thoughtfully.
“Dark purple,” Hazel repeats, then starts coloring again. Iwant to roll my eyes. It seems she’s less interested in my opinion these days and more concerned with Indie’s. I read another postcard.
I went on a run today.
