Page 36 of Came the Closest

Through the open passenger window, I see Milo. He’s flipping through a picture book in his booster seat, legs crossed, foot bouncing to music only he can hear. He looks completely at ease, utterly trusting that what comes next will just be part of his promised adventure.

I wonder when I became jaded with my own adventure.

“You know this is a big deal, right?” Indi wears a lightweight white sweater stitched with the American flag, and she folds the sweater cuff over in her palm. “Like, you’re going from Casanova to temporary dad in, like, point-five seconds. Oh, my gosh, what do you even know about this? About him! You have—”

“Indi. Look at me.” I set my hands on her shoulders and wait until she glances up. “Breathe.”

She scoffs. “You think—”

“Breathe,” I repeat, doing so myself. In for six, out for eight, over and over again until she reluctantly follows suit. I squeeze her shoulders. “If I don’t have it, Dad’s house is only a seven-minute walk. I’ll show Milo the mile markers along the way.”

Indi’s eyes blaze. “Colton!”

Laughing, I stuff my hands in the pocket of my hoodie just as Cheyenne’s Bronco pulls around the corner. “Easy, Blue. I’m joking. About messing up, not the seven-minute walk.”

She doesn’t look convinced. “He’s been my whole world, Colton.”

“Well, then,” I say gently, “let’s make his and your world even bigger.”

I don’t like the idea of picking favorites, but Milo picked Cheyenne.

All it took was one look in the bedroom beside hers—Justin’s old room—and that was that. He saw Justin’s collection of ships in bottles on the dusty desk by the window and the nautical comforter on the bed, and his decision was made. He wanted this room and this room only.

Not Beau’s aviation themed room across the hall from the junior master Cheyenne insisted I use for the summer.

I won’t take it personally. I mean, I’d pick ship bottles over model planes, too.

“Inni—” his version of Indi “—look at the books!” Milo takes off across the living room to the full wall of bookshelves. Warren and Clara are firm believers in The Lake House Rules, Number 2 of which is Read a Book. Milo turns back to us, face flushed and eyes twinkling. “Do you see them?!”

“I see them,” Indi confirms, only now catching up to her brother. She tousles his blonde curls affectionately. Our brother. “Looks like you’ll stay plenty busy reading this summer, yeah?”

Milo presses a novel—one much too mature for his age—to his nose. “Inni says books smell good,” he explains, soberly, to me.

“She does, huh?” I hold out my hand for the mystery novel and subtly gesture to the children’s books for Indi. Two birds, one stone. I press the open book to my nose and inhale noisily. “Ah. Smells like…paper?!”

Milo bursts out laughing, the sound so infectious that amusement bubbles in my own chest. Indi rolls her eyes. I feel Cheyenne watching our interactions, but she’s quiet this morning. Overwhelmed, maybe. I make a mental note to pick up a dozen donuts from Sunny Glaze when I get the chance.

With everything, I think I’ve forgotten how much of a change, and a sacrifice, this arrangement is for Cheyenne.

“Can I read this one?” Milo lifts a heavy-looking book on sailboats, and I tamp down a smile when he adds, “I like to look at the pictures!”

Indi had mentioned that Milo is advanced for his age, but if something is age-appropriate enough, she lets him explore. I want to ask her if Sailing: The Basics qualifies, but soon enough Indi won’t be around every time I have a question. Instinct tells me to look at her for confirmation.

I ignore it.

“Yeah, but if you need help with the big words,” I tease lightly, “you’ll have to ask Cheyenne or Indi. I haven’t learned how to read those yet.”

Another round of giggles bursts from him. When I do look at Indi, she nods. It feels like I passed a test I hadn’t studied for. A trickle of confidence hits my system.

Maybe I can do this.

Indi settles Milo on the sofa facing the sunroom, the Choose Happy throw pillow on his lap under the book, and then follows Cheyenne and I to the kitchen. Before we left yesterday, we opened all the curtains, but based on the lack of dust, Cheyenne came back to clean afterwards. It’s so spotless that I can almost stare at my own reflection in the quartz countertop.

I tally another mental note to hide the cleaning supplies, save for general kitchen disinfectant and hand soap. Then, with a crooked grin, I conjure the image of Cheyenne cleaning everything with just hand soap to spite me.

I want to check if the fridge is still empty or if she got groceries, too, but I don’t have time before Indi starts talking.

“I made a list of his most common likes and dislikes,” she says, looking between Cheyenne and me, “that I’ll text to each of you. As you can see, books are his go-to, but he needs encouragement to do other things, too. My goal for the summer was going to be finding him another hobby or two, but then…” She shakes her head. “Well, you know.”

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