Chapter 27
TWENTY-SEVEN
SUMMER
I’ve cleaned up, swept, and taken a shower, but Indy hasn’t shown up yet. It’s starting to get dark now, so I’m worried she might have changed her mind about meeting me, and while I can understand she’s got a lot on her plate it still stings.
Maybe she just needed a night to herself.
Knocking at the door makes my pulse skyrocket. It’s small, almost tentative.
Opening the door, I find Indy on the other side; her face pale, eyes wide. “What happened? Are you okay?”
She shakes her head, and steps into the cabin, letting me shut the door behind her. “Somethin’s goin’ on, and I’m not sure the camp should remain open.”
Does she know about the notes I’ve been getting?
No. I’ve been careful, there’s no way, this has to be something else.
“What do you mean?” I ask, grabbing her hands and pulling her over to the bed. She’s so pale, I’m worried she might pass out. Grabbing her the juice box I swiped from the mess hall, I crack open the lid and offer it to her.
“Someone wrote a threatening message in Jare’s loft, and when Hartley came to take pictures, it was gone.” Her voice cracks, and it dawns on me that this is what fear looks like.
She’s scared.
“Who wrote something in Jare’s loft?” I ask.
She shakes her head and stands, pacing the floor and talking a mile a minute.
“I don’t know, and Hartley thinks it’s just a prank, but with Finn still missin’ and the whole ‘thud’ last night at my cabin…
I’m startin’ to think there’s someone out there that wants to hurt my family, and I don’t understand why. ”
“What thud at your cabin?” My heart pumps double time, and I have to calm myself down before we’re both pacing the floor. “Indy.”
She stops when my hands clasp around hers. Her eyes are closed, lips set in a determined line, and when she looks at me, I notice the silver lining her eyes.
“I don’t think anyone wants to hurt you or your family,” I assure her. I should tell her about the notes, maybe it would help ease some stress if she knew it was happening because of me.
But then she might ask me to leave, and I’m not ready to do that just yet. My heart sinks into my stomach just hearing how that sounds.
I’m a selfish fucking asshole.
“How do you know?” She whimpers, a tear sliding down her face. Standing so I can wipe the tear away, I place a kiss on her cheek where it ran.
“If someone wanted to hurt you, I think they would have done it,” I admit, thinking about all the true crime I’ve listened to.
She nods, and looks around for the first time since arriving. There’s a plate of food waiting for her on the desk, covered in a napkin, with a glass of sweet tea that did have ice, and is now a sweaty mess.
“I’m sorry,” she says, looking back at me. “With everythin’–”
“You don’t have to apologize,” I chuckle, “it’s just food.”
Her eyes snap up to mine, and I wonder what she’s thinking. Her dark brows dip, but before I can read into it, she walks over and sits at my desk. Uncovering the plate, she takes a few bites of the dinner I grabbed from the mess hall, and turns so she’s sideways in the chair.
“Okay,” she starts, swallowing down tea. “New topic. I know you have a degree in art, and that you love the outdoors, but what about family?”
I knew she would ask eventually, and my first instinct was to tell her that’s off limits, but seeing her so vulnerable makes me want to tell her the truth.
“I have a half-brother, but he doesn’t know about me, and my parents have been dead since I was nineteen.”
There’s really no way to sugarcoat that, and by the look on Indy’s face, I know what she’s about to say. “It’s fine, really, they were great parents, but they had their flaws as most parents do.”
“What about your brother? You don’t want to meet him?” She asks, as if that’s the most natural course of action in someone’s life when they find out they have a half-sibling.
As she takes a few more bites, I carefully consider my response. “I’ve thought about it, but no. I think he’d be better off never knowing me.”
“Why?” She asks, cleaning the plate and walking over to join me on the bed. Turning to her, I lift my leg and tuck it under me.
“I’d rather not show up and implode all the things he knows about himself. It’s not fair of me to take away his happy memories with his parents. Even if the father he knows isn’t his biological one.”
I guess that makes me somewhat redeemable.
“But what if he does know about you, and you’re not willing to meet him?”
Her questions are starting to get a little too emotional, and although I’ve spilled more to her than anyone in a long time, I’m not sure I’m ready to go any deeper.
“He doesn’t know.” Shaking off the conversation, I switch topics. “What about you, Melinda Turner, what little secrets do you have to share?”
Her head whips my way, “Where did you hear that?”
“Your name?” I ask sweetly, leaning back against the pillows I brought, I tuck my hands behind my head and smirk.
“Summer,” she warns, “where did you hear that?”
“It’s on one of the pictures in your parents house.” I like seeing her feisty, makes me want to play.
Her shoulders slump forward and she growls, “Don’t call me that.”
“Okay,” I shrug, and she eyes me, “I prefer Honey, anyway.”
“I do too,” she whispers and leans down. Her lips hover over mine, and it’s like everything else is forgotten.