Chapter Twenty-Eight
Sufficiently Sun-Drenched
Cheyenne
Colton texted me that they were going out to lunch after their meeting and we were welcome to join them, but I told him to enjoy some guy time. When Indi heard we had at least three hours to ourselves, she pulled out a pen and scratch paper from the drawer beside the stove.
Ten minutes later, we had an itinerary that included paddleboarding, acai bowls, and sunbathing.
We rubbed sunscreen into our cheeks, carried the paddleboards down to the dock, and set out. We stopped frequently to dunk ourselves under just to fend off the relentless July sun, and we looked like drowned rats every time we crawled back onto our boards, laughing so hard we had no grip strength.
Sufficiently sun- and water-drenched an hour later, we realized we forgot towels inside, so we flopped onto the searing dock to air dry. Indi pointed out a starfish shaped cumulus cloud, I narrowly avoided being stung by a wasp, and we belly laughed all the way back up to the house when she imitated my wasp-induced scream.
Now, after leftovers for lunch, we’re tying our shoes in the living room. Ember texted Indi to ask if we wanted to play pickleball with her, Sydney, and Jolene. I wasn’t sure I’d contribute much after paddleboarding, but we agreed to meet them at the court shortly after noon.
“So.” Indi tugs her laces into a floppy bow. “You and my brother, huh?”
It’s a question I was expecting, but Colton and I feel so new. He hasn’t told his family about retiring yet, and we haven’t told them we’re more than friends.
Well. Friends who are fake engaged who are now…dating?
No wonder there’s an it’s complicated option on Facebook.
“I—”
“I knew it would happen,” Indi cuts in. “You two can’t sit at a table together without nearly combusting.”
I meet her eyes across the living room. “You did?”
“Cheyenne, visually impaired people could sense the connection you two have. Yes, I knew.”
I lift my brows. “Like the connection you and Grayson Adair have?”
The playfulness in her expression vanishes. She shakes her head firmly and pushes to her feet. “I’ll get my bag from my room and then we can go.”
“Wait.” I try to catch her by the shoulder, but she flinches out of my grasp. “Indi—”
Blowing me off completely, she disappears down the hall. Her tennis shoes thump upstairs quickly. Momentarily, I don’t move. I consider letting Colton try to talk to her later instead, but I won’t. Inexplicably, I feel like I should broach this topic, whatever it is.
I text Ember to let her know we’ll be a little late, to which she replies with no worries! and the pink heart emoji, and then I leave my phone on the island. What Indi needs to discuss will be shared with Sam and the boys, but right now, it will be between us.
I pause when I reach the doorway of Indi’s room. Her unzipped crossbody bag rests on the foot of her bed, but Indi herself stands at the window. She has something in her hand, her gaze pointed outside. She might be looking at the jutting shoreline of Gull Point, or at the boats zigzagging across the lake.
Maybe none of the above.
I don’t say anything. Just like her brothers, she won’t talk if she doesn’t want to. The last thing I want to do is push her. I tip my head against the doorframe and let my eyes wander around the room.
A tube of red lipstick rests on the wooden dresser next to a framed picture of Milo, Indi, and Kathleen with a crack down the middle of the glass. Boldly colored clothes are visible through the partly open closet door. Gold jewelry sits in a small white dish on one nightstand, and a stack of books rests on the other. Her worn suitcase is tucked into the corner with a duffel bag on top of it.
There’s not a single personal belonging in this room that couldn’t be packed in less than ten minutes.
One minute becomes three-, and three-minutes stretch into ten. I’m a patient person, but this tests me. I give her another minute before I start talking, and I can only pray she doesn’t bolt.
“Indi, why did Milo tell me you were in a coma?”
She flinches at the word. “Was that before or after he told you I almost died?”
The way she asks the question—bluntly, of course, but also aloofly—makes me inhale sharply. “He didn’t say anything about that.”
“Well, now you know,” she says coolly. She curls her fingers tightly around the slip of paper in her hand. It looks like a photograph. “We should head out so we don’t keep them waiting.”
This time, I do stop her. I stand in the doorway, and when she looks me directly in the eyes as the paper flutters to the ground, I don’t physically react to her bloodshot gaze. I don’t flinch at her puffy flushed cheeks or her quivering lips. I wait until I’m confident she won’t leave, and I bend to pick up the paper.
Looking back at me is a faded, grainy picture of a younger Grayson Adair.
I lift my gaze, certain my question asks itself.
“The year Milo was born, I almost drowned,” she says quietly. “Vincent was sponsoring an event at a marina—I don’t even remember what the party or fundraiser or whatever was for. I was only fourteen, and believe it or not, I was a little bit daring.” She shakes her head, eyes glassy and distant. “Probably because I wanted to measure up to the sons that Mother always talked about.”
Moisture stings my eyes. I bite the inside of my lip and my chest aches, but I say nothing.
“Jordan—the smart, reflexive oldest son. Colton—the daring, spontaneous middle child. And Graham—the quiet, bookish baby of the family.” She sucks in a wavering breath. Her teeth chatter on the exhale, and a groove forms between her brows. “Indi—the one who wasn’t even supposed to exist.”
“Indi, no—”
“My dad and brothers would never say that,” she interrupts. “Except Jordan, maybe. But instead of the freedom my mother wanted, she became a single mother. To me.”
I close my eyes against acidic tears. It’s unfathomable to me, the idea of making a child feel unwanted. I would do nearly anything to have had my child, and yet, it was taken away from me.
“Why didn’t she tell Sam?” I ask gently.
Indi looks at me sharply. “The man my mom divorced and the man Hazel is marrying are two very different men.”
“Yes, but—”
“No, Cheyenne. I can’t,” she says, shaking her head. “I can’t pretend like I could’ve had a different life. One where I grew up in this lakeside town with three older brothers and my dad and my grandmother. That wasn’t my life. Not by a very, very long shot.”
“When did your mother meet Vincent Pierre?”
Indi makes a sound, a laugh and a scoff. “You don’t just meet Vincent Pierre by walking into a coffee shop one day, Cheyenne. I presume they met well before my mother ever divorced my dad.”
“Meaning…?”
“Meaning nothing, really. Mom was a free spirit, and Vincent could fund her thirst for wanderlust. Dad was financially secure, but he wanted a partner, too. He wanted a mother for his children and a wife. Vincent only wanted someone to look good on his arm when he needed it.” Indi pauses and runs her teeth over her lower lip. “When he wants to be, Vincent Pierre can be a dangerous man, Cheyenne, but only if you give him reason to be. The day Grayson Adair saved me from drowning at Vincent’s own party, Grayson gave him that reason.”
I frown. “Because…?”
“Because I owe Grayson my life,” she says, nearly inaudibly. “I don’t remember anything from that night. I was in a coma for five days, and I’m lucky I don’t have ongoing side effects. But I can never repay Grayson, because if I do, Vincent Pierre will ruin him.”
Alarm pulses through my veins. I’ve seen Milo’s biological father in pictures online. He just looks like a very wealthy, very polished businessman. The epitome of East Coast old money. His sandy hair, slate eyes, and intense expression is handsome if not a little too powerful looking.
Hearing about his moral corruption makes my skin crawl.
“Indi, I need you to be straight with me,” I say slowly, keeping my voice even. “Is Milo in any danger?”
“Milo? No. And neither are you or Colton, or my dad and brothers, for that matter. But Vincent has connections, Cheyenne, and he doesn’t hesitate to use them.” Her cool blue eyes hold mine. “That is why I need you to drop it about Grayson Adair, once and for all. Can you do that for me?”
I don’t want to, not when she didn’t say she wasn’t in any danger. But sometimes you have to trust when you can’t see, so I nod.
“Of course,” I say. I smile as if she didn’t just share such a dark piece of her past, and gesture to the doorway. “Well, what are we waiting for? We can’t dominate in pickleball if we’re standing around.”
Relief softens Indi’s features, and she laughs softly, linking her arm through mine as she nods.