Page 41 of Creeping Beautiful

But Misha thought they were steady. I’m pretty sure.

McKay’s trips were short and he did not do girls. Not ever. At least, I never ever saw him with a girl.

But what he did in his personal time was not something he ever shared with me. And he didn’t leave the house much. Not nearly as much as Adam did. He was almost always home with me. Tucking me in bed. Harping on me to brush my teeth and eat my vegetables. Taking me to the orthodontist. Teaching me math and science and shooting and martial arts.

And he would run a bath for me in my bedroom bathtub every night. With bubbles. He bought cheap bubbles by the gallon at the dollar store. The kind that only last a few minutes and then start to fizzle out. But he said those bubbles didn’t make me feel dirty when I got out the way the expensive ones did. And he was kinda right about that.

Donovan, of course, was almost never around. He came every single month for the first year. But after that it was just whenever Adam called him in. Which meant that Donovan was around a lot more instead of a lot less.

Not because I was being bad either.

Adam just had a rule that after every job I had to have a session with Donovan before I could go play with Nate again.

It didn’t make sense at first. But later it did.

Because I would come home from the jobs and feel… funky. McKay would say, “You’re in a funk, Indie. And you have to talk yourself out of it.”

So that’s when Donovan came. And he would talk me out of it.

But sometimes…sometimes even when he left that funk was still there. So I would go outside—because I would have the all-clear from all three of them—and I would find Nate, and he would take one look at me and take my hand, and lead me into the woods. To this little grass meadow. And in the summer, he would make me flower crowns. In the winter he would make me twig crowns. And he would tell his stories.

“Indie, do you see that bird up there on that branch? That’s a violet eggplant-headfluff whistler.”

I’m making that part up. But he would know what the bird was and he would change its hard, factual name into something hazy and soft. He would change my whole life into something hazy and soft.

He would take me out of this world and into his story.

He would empty me out. Just… spill me out all over the place.

And then he would fill me back up.

CHAPTER SEVEN - ADAM

THIRTEEN YEARS AGO

Indie was dressed the way I asked and she came with a little pink roller suitcase. Plus a sweater and a journal. She was waiting for me down by the dock, just standing there in the moonlight looking like a little girl should look.

Donovan came with me when we left so he could talk to her. I gave them their privacy, so I don’t know what was said, I just watched them from afar. But when he was done, he came up to me and made a big deal about the journal.

“Don’t take it away. She needs to write.”

“Why?”

“It helps her.” He turned me around so she couldn’t read our lips while we talked. “You know what she is, right?”

“I know.”

“She’s not like the others. She’s like you, Adam.”

“I get it.”

“I hope you do. Because I like her. A lot. I’m invested in her and I want her to make it.”

“Define ‘make it.’” I laughed. Because she was what she was. Her future involved lots of danger, and pain, and stress. Even if we did manage to break this whole shit show up into a million pieces, what did he think she was gonna do when that happened? If that happened?

Go to college? Get married to someone normal? Have a couple kids?

Her future was my present. Literally. Look at me, Indie. Good and hard, little girl. This is as good as it gets. There is no version of your life that includes the words normal, or easy, or predictable, or safe.