Page 145 of Creeping Beautiful

Her knees buckle, but I hold her up. And Donovan backs off, hitting the wall and sliding down it like he can’t stay on his feet one more second.

“Shhhh,” I tell Indie. “Shhhh. It’s OK now. I promise. You’ll be OK.”

She’s shaking her head no. She might be small. She might be young. She might be missing huge chunks of her memory.

But she is not stupid.

There is no such thing as OK in her future.

There is no way to take back what happened on her birthday.

But I lie to her. I hold her and lie to her just the same. I don’t even care that I know it’s a lie. I will not give up hope.

I have one little secret in my back pocket that could help her. It won’t take away all the pain, but it won’t sting as much afterward, either.

I just need her to meet me half way. That’s all I need. That’s all I expect.

I back off a little and take her face in my hands. Lift her chin up so she has to see me when I tell my lies. “Listen to me. OK? Just listen to me for a moment. We can fix this, Indie. We put those walls back up, lock that fuckin’ gate, and keep all the snakes out for good.”

She’s still shaking her head no. “We can’t fix it. We can’t ever fix it.” Her eyes are filled with water, all glassy and red. I want to force her to stop talking. I want to force her to see it my way. But I can’t.

Everything is out of my control now.

“I made a deal with the snakes.” She sobs out the words. “But I never made a deal with the flowers, Adam. I forgot all about the fuckin’ flowers.”

Relief floods through me. She remembers. I don’t know how much, but it’s enough to set things right for a moment. I hold her face firmly and say, “Darlin’. You didn’t have to. Because I made that deal myself.”

Then I kiss her.

I kiss her on the mouth the same way she kissed me that day, right downstairs in the foyer. I kiss her like she’s mine. Like she’s ours. Like she is the only thing in the world that matters.

Donovan is on his feet, his arms around both of us. Then the front door slams and we all come apart like a fluff of dandelion seeds in a gusty wind.

McKay is there at the bottom of the stairs, holding up some book, sopping wet and out of breath as he tries to get words out. “Ours. She’s still ours and this proves it.”

He’s not wrong.

But he’s not exactly right, either.

I want him to be right. But this is all very complicated and messy. And what Indie needs right now is… simple. There is only one way to make it simple.

So I say, “No, McKay.”

“What do you mean?” He’s bounding up the stairs. “I’m telling you, she’s written it all down in here. It’s all fixable.”

Donovan guffaws and McKay, Indie, and I look at him as he leans against the wall. “Are you fucking insane?” But he’s looking specifically at McKay. “We can’t fix this shit! People are dead, McKay! Dead!”

“Who’s dead?”

I turn to look at Indie, my heart sinking into my stomach. “I thought you remembered?”

Donovan is shaking his head. “She doesn’t. And this is all so much fucking worse than you even know, Adam. Tell him, McKay. Tell him what she told us.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT - McKAY

PRESENT DAY

Tell him what she told us.