by Sophia Henry
A few minutes later, Indie came down the stairs in a white T-shirt and a pair of comfy gray sweatpants, face still covered in zombie makeup. Which left me standing in the living room looking like a tool, still dressed as zombie Kristoff.
“No fair,” I said, grabbing the hem of her T-shirt when she came close.
“You’re the one who chose to be a dorky Disney character,” Indie said, wrapping her arms around my neck. “You could’ve been something cool like a Transformer.”
My hands roved under her shirt, skimming the skin at her hips. “Kristoff is supercool. He sells ice for a living.”
“Oh my gosh, that was such a dad joke!” Indie said, teasing.
“It was. I’m sorry. I’m being corny when all I want to do is make out with you.” I squeezed her waist and lowered my face to hers.
“Talking is not your strong point, copper.”
“Nope,” I agreed. “Tonsil hockey is.” I pressed my lips against hers, but Indie pulled away laughing.
“Stop being a dork! I can’t concentrate.”
Instead of responding, I lowered her onto the couch and climbed on top of her. Her dark hair spilled over the throw pillows, creating a halo around her face. When our mouths met, a low groan rumbled in Indie’s throat. Excited by the sound of pleasure, I simultaneously opened her mouth with my tongue and thrust my hips into her. Which caused another throaty sound.
Her hands slid along my arms before stopping to clutch my shoulders. The feel of her nails digging into my skin made me increase the pressure of my kiss. Soon our tongues were engaged in a gentle duel. My fingers grazed her skin as I lifted her shirt up. I took my mouth off Indie’s to lean down and kiss the soft skin above her bra. She arched toward my mouth and tightened her grip on my shoulders for stability.
I lowered the cup of her bra and one beautiful breast spilled out.
“Jason,” she moaned when I took her in my mouth. I should have been sorry about smearing the greasy face paint over her chest, but she felt too good to stop because of something so lame. I’d offer to help her wash it off in the shower.
Suddenly, the door opened.
“Ewwww!” a female voice howled.
“What the fuck?” a male voice exclaimed.
Fuck!
“Oh my god!” Indie screeched, reaching between us to lower her shirt over her exposed breast and stomach.
I sprang up and ran my hands through my hair.
Damien, Indie’s brother, stood in the doorway with a girl dressed in one of those Halloween costumes from the catalog on the coffee table. Slutty Sailor Girl.
“You’re screwing my sister on our couch?” Damien said, accusingly.
“No!” Indie and I both answered at the same time.
Her cheeks were flushed, bright pink.
“I’m scarred for life.” Damien held one hand over his eyes while he led the girl back out the door with the other. “I’m scarred for fucking life. My sister and my hockey coach jizzing all over the family couch. Fucking gross.”
He shut the door behind him.
“I’m so sorry.” Indie put her hands over her face. She immediately dropped them, remembering her painted face.
I wiped her hands across my pants to remove the paint, just as I had for Holden earlier. Then I slid my arm across her shoulder and squeezed her body against mine. “Don’t worry about it.”
“It’s so embarrassing to get caught by my brother.”
“Guess all make-outs happen in my truck from now on,” I said.
Indie didn’t think my comment was funny. She wiggled out from under my arm. “Just because I’m from the country doesn’t mean I’m a fucking bumpkin.”
“I didn’t say you were. It was a joke.”
“Sorry.” Her shoulders slumped. “I’m just embarrassed.”
I touched her chin and lifted her face to mine. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” I assured her.
Indie pulled herself out of my grasp and gazed at her hands twisted in her lap. “I should have my own place. A room for my fucking kid.” She stood up quickly. “You shouldn’t have even seen that.”
I stood up and put my hands on her shoulders, though she still had her back to me. “Don’t ever feel embarrassed about providing for your son. You are an amazing mother. You’re giving him a wonderful life.”
Indie didn’t turn around, so I spun her around. “Seriously, Linden.” I looked straight into her eyes so she could see the sincerity in everything I said. “I’ve seen some messed-up shit in my years as a police officer. Horrible, sad, messed-up shit. You should be very proud of how you’ve raised Holden. He’s a sweet, smart, beautiful kid. I admire you.”
“You admire a stupid girl who had a kid in high school and still lives with her mom? I highly doubt that.”
“At least you kept him,” I muttered.
Seemingly stunned by my comment, Indie stammered a response. “Well, yeah, I—”
“Some women don’t have the guts to do it. They just give their kids away, like old clothes.”
“Don’t be a jerk.”
“What? I’ve seen it.” Seen it? Hell, I’d lived it.
“You can’t say things like that.” Indie squinted in disbelief and anger.
“Why?”
“Because you have no clue what it’s like to be a teenage girl facing a surprise pregnancy. And you have an amazing family. An amazing life.”
“So I’m only allowed to have an opinion if I’d been affected in a bad way? If I were a kid going through the fucked-up system?”
“No, that’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying that you have so much to be thankful for that maybe you shouldn’t judge people in more challenging circumstances.”
“I’m not judging anyone.”
Indie stopped to take a breath and I knew she was about to let me have it. “But you are. You’re holding your mom to higher standards than you hold me. I don’t understand how you can see us as different.”
“You kept your son,” I blurted out.
“Do you think it was easy for your mom to give you up?”
I shrugged. Seemed easy enough to me.
Indie took my hand and lowered her voice before speaking again. “Do you think it’s easy for a woman to give up a baby? Whether they’re sixteen or twenty-eight? No one is thinking, ‘Yay! I can’t wait to give away this baby that I cared for and nourished and loved over the last nine months. It’s awesome to have gone through such a strenuous time for someone I’m never going to see again.’ ”
“I don’t know what she thought,” I admitted, glancing at Indie’s hand, still holding mine. I let her hold it. I liked when she touched me.
“I don’t, either, but I doubt she thought that way, or she wouldn’t have given you life at all. She could have had an abortion.” Indie took a deep breath. “But she didn’t do that. She chose to set you up for a good life. She made a better choice for you than she did for Auden.”
I couldn’t speak, stunned by the realization. My mom had made a better choice for me than she had for Auden. I got an amazing family out of the deal. Auden got life with a struggling single mom.
I squeezed Indie’s hand and asked, “Did you ever think that way?”
Her chest heaved and tears sprung to her eyes.
“Yes, I did have those thoughts.” She stopped and sat on the couch, curling one leg under her butt. She tugged my arm to get me to join her and I did. “Tim kept pressing me to have an abortion, and I thought about it. I even scheduled a doctor’s appointment. But it scared the shit out of me and I couldn’t go through with it. Instead, I tried to think of ways to get rid of the baby without actually having a procedure.” She squeezed her eyes shut and lifted her fingers to her mouth, as if horrified to tell me more. “I thought about causing my own miscarriage. But I couldn’t do it.”
Indie shook her head and opened her eyes, but gazed at the coffee table, rather than look at me. I inched closer and pulled her into my arms.
Her voice shook when she spoke again. “I could never have done something like that. But at the time, it seemed like a better way to get rid of the problem.”
Everything she said made me admire her more and more. I couldn’t imagine being a kid having a kid.
I rubbed her back. “I understand.”
“No, you don’t,” she whispered.
“You’re right. I don’t. But I understand what you’re saying. I understand the pressure you were under.”
“The same pressure your mom was under.” She lifted her head from my chest and caught my eyes. The pain in her eyes implored me to really understand how similar her situation was to my mom’s.
How could I hate my biological mother without hating Indie?
Because she kept her child.
“What do you want me to say, Indie?” I asked. “You made me see the light. I forgive her. I’m a huge fucking asshole for being angry with her.”
“I’m not saying that, and you know it. I’m just trying to explain the other side of the coin. Maybe I should have given Holden to another family. Maybe I made the wrong choice for him. Do you know how often I ask myself that? Some women don’t have many choices. They do—”
“Indie,” I interjected.
“—what they think is best for their baby,” she finished, shoulders heaving, hands curled into fists on my chest.
“Indie, it wasn’t a slam on you.” I wrapped my hand around her fists. “I have strong feelings. But I didn’t mean to offend you. I’m sorry.”
She took a deep breath and forced a smile. “Sorry.”
“You’re working two jobs, putting yourself through school, and you’re a single mom. I have nothing but respect for you and your choices.”
“It wasn’t like I had a choice.” She shook her head and let out a small puff of air, as if trying to blow away the thoughts. “Tim and his parents never had any intention of helping me raise the baby. In fact, his parents’ exact words were, ‘Timmy’s not giving up his football scholarship because some stupid girl wasn’t smart enough to use birth control.’ ”
“Idiots,” I muttered. “Of course their son wasn’t the stupid one.”
“No. He wasn’t a stupid boy because he’d refused to wear a condom. I was a stupid girl because they assumed I hadn’t been on birth control. But I had,” she added quickly. “It wasn’t our first time. It was just the first time we weren’t careful.
“Tim accepted his football scholarship without a second thought, leaving me in Bridgeland to raise the baby. I declined my acceptance to the university of my dreams because I’d have a six-month-old when my freshman year started. Roommates probably don’t appreciate having a baby in the dorm, do they?”
“I don’t think that’s allowed,” I answered.
“Guess that attempt to lighten the mood failed, eh?” she asked.
I shook my head and chuckled. “Oh, geez, Indie. I’m an idiot.”
She lowered her eyes to our hands, still intertwined on my chest.
“Sorry.” I released her hands.
“Please, don’t let me go,” Indie whispered.
“I won’t,” I promised, and enveloped her in my arms and hugged her to my chest again.
But I knew I’d have to eventually.
Chapter 14
Indie
“Red Wings! Jason, I see the Red Wings!” Holden yelled from his car seat. I spun around to see where he was looking, since we weren’t near the arena yet. Sure enough, in the distance, there was a huge billboard with a beer bottle and the Red Wings’ logo advertising the official beer sponsor of the team.
“Good eye, buddy,” I responded.
“I wike hockey.”
“Me, too, buddy.” Jason glanced at Holden in the rearview mirror. “I’m so excited to take you and your mom to the game.”
“I cheer for Wandon. He my brover.”
“No, he’s my brother,” Jason corrected.
“He your brover?” Holden asked, as if he didn’t believe him.
“You’re cracking me up, kid.” Jason reached over and put a hand on my knee.
I reveled in the warmth of his easy banter with my son, and the feel of his hand on my knee. I felt safe and secure. And loved.
When we arrived at the stairs leading to the entrance of the arena, Holden pushed me away, insisting on taking the entire flight of stairs on his own—one tiny toddler step at a time. Jason stayed behind him, taking over the parental role and keeping him safe from falling. A hundred or so other people dashed past Holden, trying to get to the entrance as well, but my son kept his focus.
Once Holden made it to the top, I scooped him into my arms, so we could navigate the concourse without him getting trampled. Jason held the door for us and handed the tickets to the agent to be scanned.
We got to our section and Jason put a hand on my waist to steer me to the right. “This is our row. These four seats on the aisle.”
I scooted into the row and sat in the third chair, since Jason’s mom couldn’t join us at the game. We’d be heading over to his parents’ house afterward for dinner, and to spend the night. Which made me want to get a few drinks. Then again, if I drank at the game and showed up at their house buzzed with my kid, they’d think I wasn’t good enough for their son.
Maybe just one drink.
“Lemme grab Holden.” Jason reached out and lifted him from my arms. “I’m going to take him down to the glass to wave at Landon.”
“Want me to go get some snacks or drinks?” I asked. With him taking my son off my hands, I felt like I should reciprocate the favor.
“Just relax.” He bent down and kissed my cheek. “Tell Mama to relax.”
“Relax, Mama,” Holden said, patting my head with his tiny hand.
I followed instructions, but kept my eyes on Jason carrying Holden down the stairs to the glass. Jason pointed to something and Holden’s face lit up with a smile. Which made my face light up with a smile in turn, and suddenly I felt silly sitting by myself with a stupid grin on my face.
The way Jason interacted with Holden was exactly how I wanted Tim to interact with him. I had zero intentions of getting back together with Tim, but I wanted to see him enjoy his time with his son, rather than thinking of him as a burden. Especially since Tim had the easy part of raising him: visits. He had no real parenting responsibilities. He got to have fun, get the kid riled up, then give him back to me.
Too bad he didn’t see it that way.
—
I’d already met Sharon, Jason’s mom, so why did my chest tighten with anxiety when we pulled into his parents’ driveway?
“You ready for this?” Jason asked. Which didn’t help ease my stress level.
I glanced back at Holden, who had fallen asleep in his car seat, exhausted from the activities at the game. “Yep.”
Jason grabbed my hand and squeezed it. “My parents are awesome, Indie.”
“I don’t doubt it,” I said. “I’m worried that I’m not.”
The words slipped out. I tried to keep my cool.
“Just be yourself. The witty beauty who won me over. My dad will love that. Hell, you’ve met my mom. She will, too.”
I took a deep breath and opened the door. I jumped out of Jason’s truck and opened the door to get to the back of the cab. I loved Jason’s truck, but getting Holden out of the back was more difficult than it was in my little car. I almost bumped his head on the cab when I jumped out, but Jason was there to steady me.
I followed Jason through the front door with Holden asleep on my shoulder.
“Hello?” Jason called into the house.
“Cello!” A male voice responded. The dorky greeting made me relax immediately.
“Come on in!” Sharon yelled. Jason made a quick right and we walked into a warm kitchen. His parents stood behind the large island.
Sharon approached us first, throwing her arms around Jason. Then she hugged me, too, taking care not to wake Holden. “We’re so glad you’re here.”<
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“How was the game?” Charlie, Jason’s dad, asked.
“We had a blast.” Jason hugged his dad. Then, like Sharon, Charlie hugged Holden and me, too. I’d never felt so welcome walking into a stranger’s house.
“Hi, Indie. It’s great to finally meet you.” Charlie backed up to give us room to settle in.
“Do you want to lay him in the guest room?” Sharon nodded to Holden.
“Yes, please.” I followed her up a staircase off the kitchen to a room with two twin beds draped in blue, pastoral-toile bedspreads. Instant warmth flooded me, as I hadn’t seen that particular pattern since my grandma was alive.
I wondered if this room was for me and Holden, or just him. Not that it mattered. Holden had never slept by himself in his entire life, so I knew I’d be in the bed next to him no matter what.
I set him on top of one of the beds and removed his shoes. Then I covered him with a blanket I’d found draped over a chair.
When I came back to the kitchen, Charlie was standing at a small wet bar, making a drink. “What can I get you, Indie? We have wine, beer, liquor.”
“What are you having?” I asked, interested in the ingredients in front of him that he’d used to make the concoction he had in the shaker.
“A transfusion,” he answered with a smile. His gray eyebrows rose up in excitement.
“I’ve never heard of that.”
“You’ve even stumped a bartender with your latest potion, Big C.” Jason winked at me.
“I was a bartender back in my college days,” Charlie said.
“Oh, boy.” Jason rolled his eyes.
“Oh, here we go,” Sharon chimed in from her spot at the stove, where she stirred a huge pot of spaghetti sauce. “You’ll hear this story a hundred times, Indie.”
I laughed. “Must’ve been an illustrious career.”
“It’s where I met Sharon.” Charlie looked up from pouring the transfusion into two sixteen-ounce tumblers. “She went to Central State, but we met at a party at Michigan State.” He handed the drinks to Jason, who passed one on to me.
Before taking a sip, he held his cup toward me to clink glasses. I tasted grape juice, club soda, and vodka. A lot of vodka. I reminded myself to sip it slowly, so I didn’t end up wasted my first time in the Taylors’ home. That would make for an amazing initial impression. I could see the headline now: “Irresponsible Single Mom Gets Wasted and Can’t Take Care of Her Son.” Living up to every sad stereotype and expectation. I shook my negative thoughts away and decided to focus on the moment instead.