INDY
SIXTY-FIVE
Once summer fully kicks in, most of my job becomes about curtailing Callum’s impulsive side. The off-season bores him to the point where it starts to feel like I actually should be called a babysitter, because it’s like wrangling a freaking two-year-old on a sugar high. He pouts like one, too.
“No one would know,” he tells me.
I ignore him.
“I will go really slowly. Just up and down the block once.”
I watch grimly as the numbers of the floor change on the elevator panel.
“Please don’t take this away from me.”
The doors slide open, and I step out of the elevator with Callum on my heels.
“Indy!” he says in the kind of tone that indicates he’s going to start stomping his feet soon.
I march toward the guy standing next to the flatbed in the parking garage. His eyes widen when he sees us approach.
“Whoa, dude,” he says. “You’re Callum Mercer!”
Callum, with a very un-Callum-like pout, nods once. I clear my throat pointedly and he sighs, his shoulders slumping.
“Nice to meet you, man,” he tells the delivery guy. He takes a longing look at the flatbed.
I point at the shiny black motorcycle. “This needs to go back. Return it. Sell it to the highest bidder. I’ll make this jackass sign it if it helps.” I point to Callum before I shake my head. “I don’t really care. Just get rid of it. Really sorry for all the trouble.”
The guy looks between the motorcycle and me. “Um, I’m just here to deliver it?”
“Yeah, well, deliver it back to where it came from.”
Callum mutters something under his breath. I raise my brow at him pointedly. “Are you allowed to ride a motorcycle? Like, officially. In your contract. Is there a clause in it that allows dangerous activities like riding a motorcycle, or does it specifically forbid it?”
Callum’s shoulders slump even more. “There’s a clause,” he mutters. “It’s specifically forbidden.”
I raise my brow at the delivery guy, and he scratches the back of his head.
“Return it?” he guesses.
I nod. “I’ll let the dealership know you’re coming.”
Both he and Callum sigh and send forlorn looks at the motorcycle. I point to the elevator, and Callum drags his feet all the way there.
“I already named her and everything,” Callum says. “We were gonna drive down the coast and look at the sunset.”
“What a nice story,” I say off-handedly.
“You’d think being in love would make you softer or something,” he mutters.
“Nick likes me hard.”
He snorts out a laugh, and we grin at each other. The elevator doors slide open again, and we step into Callum’s apartment, his eyes on his phone.
I’m already preparing myself.
“Is there anything about buying a cow in my contract?” he asks thoughtfully.
Yup. There it is.
I stop midway through taking off my shoes. “A cow?”
“I’ve always wanted one.”
“I’m pretty sure this building doesn’t allow cows, even if the team gave you the okay.”
He scoffs. “I’d buy her a farm.”
“You’d buy your one cow a farm,” I say flatly.
He looks at me thoughtfully. “She’d get lonely by herself, that’s true. She’d need friends.”
I rub my forehead with my fingers. “This feels like it’s above my pay grade.”
“You know what?” Callum says. He glances at his phone with a thoughtful expression, then at me.
His expression transforms, so now he looks suspiciously sympathetic.
“You look tired. How about you take the rest of the day off? It’s Friday anyway.
Go home. Relax a bit. Nick won’t be here tonight; may as well surprise him by heading home early. ”
I narrow my eyes at him because he’s expertly playing on all my weaknesses, and I recognize what he’s doing, but I’m also really tempted to go.
“I won’t buy a cow,” he says. “Cross my heart.”
I hesitate, and he grins.
“Go on,” he says coaxingly. “You know you want to.”
I put the one shoe I managed to take off back on. “No cows,” I say sternly. “No motorcycles. No bungee jumping or skydiving. No fireworks. No jet skis. No—”
“I’m quite literally losing the will to live here.”
I press my lips together. “I’m going,” I say decisively.
“Please do.”
I head out the door. Whatever happens, whatever he does or buys, that’s a problem for future me.
Instead of heading to the subway, I decide to walk. It’s a nice afternoon, sunny and warm. People are everywhere, sitting on park benches and grass and steps, some taking a long lunch, some just sitting around with friends, talking and laughing.
I take out my phone and call Nick. Maybe we can have a picnic or something. Enjoy the nice weather. He doesn’t pick up, though, so I slide my phone back into my pocket and head home instead.
I sprint up the stairs, unlock the door, and rush inside. My heart jumps when I see Nick’s sneakers lined up in the hallway. A smile blooms on my lips. My own shoes fly off in record time.
“I hope you’re naked,” I call out.
Then I turn the corner and clamp my mouth shut. There’s a man sitting at the kitchen table opposite Nick. A guy dressed in a perfectly pressed designer suit, with salt and pepper hair styled and combed back from his face. He doesn’t look too impressed with me storming into the room the way I did.
“Oh,” I say. “Hi?”
Nick gets up from his seat and comes to me. His palm goes to my cheek, and he presses his lips to mine in a kiss that momentarily makes me forget all about strangers in any apartment.
“Home early?” he asks me with a small smile. “Did you miss me that much?”
“Always,” I say softly.
The suit guy clears his throat pointedly. Nick closes his eyes and inhales slowly before he turns around and crosses his arms over his chest. “Was there something else?”
The man gets up from his seat and shakes his head. “You have my information if you have any questions.”
He walks out and a second later I hear the door shut behind him. I raise my brows at Nick. “Who was that?”
He rubs the tips of his fingers over his eyes and stalks back to the table, where he picks up a stack of papers, gives them a cursory look, and drops them again.
He meets my eyes. “Can we go sit down for a moment?” he asks.
We end up on the couch, and he puts the papers on the coffee table and glares at them.
I place my palm on his back and hold it there until he slumps against me.
“Apparently my grandparents are looking to make contact.”
My brows furrow while I digest that. As far as I know it’s always been just Nick and his mom.
“Why?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “Want to meet their grandson. Now that they’re starting to get up there in age they’ve apparently decided that they’d like to get to know me and see if I’m worthy of an inheritance, seeing that they have no more kids or grandkids.”
“Those same grandparents who kicked your mom out because she was pregnant with y—” I stop speaking. Nick sends me a tight smile.
We’ve talked about everything. Nothing is off limits.
Except that.
Neither of us has talked about that.
We’ve been postponing the inevitable with some kind of silent agreement. Ignoring the elephant in the room even though we can both see it.
He sighs and pulls me against him, my back to his chest, his chin on my shoulder.
“I think mostly I’m afraid that if we dig it up—the whole thing—if we talk about it, it’ll somehow fuck everything up again,” he says. I blink at the straightforward way he says it. He just lays it out. His fear and my fear, which are essentially the same thing.
I pull his arms tighter around me. He threads our fingers together and squeezes my hand.
“I’ve spent years trying to wrap my head around how I should feel,” I say slowly.
“I guess the closest thing might be like suddenly finding out you’re adopted.
Because we kind of both were? Just in a way that really isn’t normal at all.
And there’s a part of me that thinks I should be more messed up about it, but the part that messes me up isn’t being switched at birth.
It’s the consequences. It’s everything that happened after finding out about it.
I’m angry because I just… The way it all played out was such a shitshow, so all I can really think about is what if they had all handled it the right way?
What if they had just… sat us down and told us?
And then, I don’t know, maybe I’m giving myself too much credit, but I feel like I could’ve handled it.
I could have handled the truth. But nobody gave it to me. ”
He nods, forehead pressed against the back of my neck.
“You have a decision to make,” he says.
“What do you mean?”
He nods at the papers still on the coffee table. “They won’t want to meet me once they learn about the truth. It’s you they want to get to know.”
I let the meaning of those words sink in. Somehow it never even crossed my mind this would be the case.
“You don’t have to decide anything right now,” he says. “There’s no pressure.”
I nod slowly. “It doesn’t necessarily mean they’d consider me their grandson,” I say.
“You can absolutely believe me they consider genetics supremely important when it comes to who they’ll leave their money to. It’s just a fact.”
I shake my head. “Fuck them,” I say.
“Think about it before you decide anything.”
“They don’t get to test you to see if you’re worthy of their time. As long as they don’t get it, fuck them.”
He kisses me again, mouth claiming mine fiercely.
“Blue,” he says quietly when he pulls away, “when’s the last time you talked to your mom?”
I look down at my hands. “The day I moved out.”
He doesn’t say anything, just holds me closer.
I sigh and close my eyes.
His chin is still on my shoulder, his voice in my ear. “We don’t have to do anything.”
“But my parents are the only ones who know the full story.”
There’s a slight pause before he nods.
I press my lips together.
In our own way we’ve both been running for years.
Running away from the truth and coming to terms with what happened.
And maybe I’m not done running yet. I don’t know.
I may never be done. What I do know is it’s unfair.
Nick might be willing to forgive. He might want to get to know them.
After all, my parents were his parents first. He might want to let them back into his life.
If not right away, then someday. But he can’t make that decision when I’m standing in his way.
He won’t figure out what he wants by running away after me.
I refuse to be the one who takes that choice away from him.
I refuse.