Page 43 of Came the Closest

“Sit,” she repeats, firmer this time.

It’s more demand than suggestion, so I slowly lower down next to her. Cool morning air presses welcomely at my perspiring neck, and in the conversation lull, I take in my surroundings.

I smile at the robins frolicking in puddles at the end of the driveway from last night’s storm. I wave at someone in a Kia as they drive by, even though they probably wonder why two blonde women are sitting on the stairs in their pajamas instead of the porch swing. I let soft sunshine bathe my face in warm light that feels like it sinks deeply into my pores.

“He’ll sense it, you know.” Indi breaks the silence a couple minutes later. “Milo. He might only be four, but if he thinks for one second that you don’t want to be here, he’ll know.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to be here, Indi.” Not by a long shot. I catch a rogue tendril of hair and tuck it back behind my ear. “It’s that—”

“You don’t think you deserve to be,” she finishes drolly. “Yeah, yeah. I know. Welcome to the club; we meet on Thursdays and commiserate over the lack of belonging in our lives.”

I don’t know how to respond to that. I feel like Indi will have a comeback to counteract me no matter what I say.

It reminds me of the girl I used to be. The one who painted sunset canvases in the sunroom and accepted Colton’s dare to jump in the freezing lake on Memorial Day Weekend.

“Tell me something,” she continues. “Did he or did he not ask you to read with him yesterday?”

“Well, yes, but—”

“Kids aren’t like adults, Cheyenne,” she interrupts. “They don’t tally up reasons this person could hurt them or think about how that person might leave them. To us, that would be a curse. To them, it’s a gift. Burnt pancakes lead you into a spiral of self-doubt and anxiety. Burnt pancakes to Milo mean laughter because Colton can’t shut the alarm off with a meat thermometer and none of us, hypothetically, know how to cook, so he has to take over. It’s all about perspective.”

I don’t say anything. I don’t know what to say.

“I’ve never had a real, present mom, and neither has Colton,” she says. “But from what my brother has told me, you do. You’re the only one who can bring that to the table. So maybe you think you’re not needed, but this is me telling you that you are. Both of those boys need you, Cheyenne, and don’t you dare think I’m flattering you. I don’t say things I don’t mean. Ever.”

This makes me laugh. I don’t think she’s lying. I tap my thumb against the edge of the plate. “For what it’s worth, the boys need you, too. Not just the two who could be seconds away from burning this house down—”

“At least we’re already outside.”

“—but the others too,” I continue, fighting a smile. “Sam, Jordan, and Graham. All five of them need you. Jordan doesn’t act like he does, but trust me, he loves you.”

Indi scoffs. “Flattery gets you nowhere.”

Before I can tell her I’m being serious, the front door flaps open. Milo runs out onto the porch, barefoot and holding a spatula. I hear the alarm and, with a smile over my shoulder, I take in Colton. Standing on the same chair with the same meat thermometer, the same tease of bare abdomen between his shorts and shirt hem.

“We burned the pancakes too!” Milo announces, much too gleefully. He drapes himself over Indi’s shoulders from behind. “Isn’t that awesome?”

“Awesome?” Indi repeats incredulously, turning to pull her brother onto her lap. He giggles when she tickles his exposed belly after his shirt rides up and swats at her arm with the spatula. “If you think this little jelly belly of yours going hungry is awesome, then yes. It’s fantastic. Amazing! Fan-freaking-tacular!”

Milo’s shriek is loud enough to rival the alarm. He writhes away from his sister, holding his arms out to me with a lopsided smile. “Help, Annie! The tickle monster is mean!”

My mind is too slow to register much. It’s stuck on Indi’s words and that tease of Colton’s abdomen, but instinct kicks in. I pull Milo onto my lap and find my sternest expression, because Indi is staring at me with an I told you you were needed expression.

“I command, in the name of Auntie Annie’s Pretzels—” Indi snorts with laughter at this, and I wave my hands mystically “—that the Tickle Monster leaves Milo alone!”

Indi looks let down by my intimidation attempt. “Yeahhh, no, that is…” She shakes her head, squints at me, and sighs. “I should tickle you for such a weak threat.”

“Yeah!” Milo bounces enthusiastically on my lap. “Tickle Annie!”

“Please don’t,” Colton says. He walks through the front door with the griddle in his hands, and past us down the stairs. “She will scream, and if you think the fire alarm was bad, I promise you her scream is ten times worse.”

Indi grins wickedly at me. “How does he know that?”

I am absolutely not about to tell Colton’s little sister that he used to tickle me until I nearly peed my pants. Nor that he knows my most ticklish spot is right between my belly button and the curve of my waist.

I ignore her question and frown at Colton’s retreating back. “What are you doing with that griddle?”

“This griddle,” he says, lifting the appliance like it has personally offended him, “is a safety threat to persons and property. It’s going in the trash. Tell your grandmother I’ll buy a new one so that some old hen doesn’t drive by and jump to some crazy conclusion. Then get in the car. Breakfast is on me today, courtesy of the coffee shop.”

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