by J. A. Huss
Then I looked at Maggie. She was sitting in her high chair, one hand rolling Cocoa Puffs around on the tray like they were toys, and the other busily grabbing handfuls of the soggy chocolate balls from a bowl and stuffing them in her mouth.
I did say something. “What the hell is this?” Or maybe, “Why is she eating that crap?” And I noticed that Indie was wearing the dress, but I was so distracted by Maggie’s bowl of cereal that I didn’t have a chance to comment on it.
Then McKay was there, shirtless and his sweatpant shorts showing off the fucking cut muscles of his waist. And he just breezed right past me, picked that bowl up off the high-chair tray, and plopped it in the sink.
I looked at Maggie to see how she was gonna take this new development. Her lips were gettin’ pouty like she was gearing up for a wail. But McKay snatched a spatula out of the canister we kept the kitchen utensils in and pointed it at her. “I don’t want no lip from you, missy. You’re having pancakes.”
I guess Maggie decided that was an offer she could live with, because she didn’t cry.
Then Donovan was there, scowling at everyone. “What the hell is going on here?”
He was shirtless too. And he was a good eight years younger than me, so yeah. He had the body of a twenty-five-year-old. But that dumbass wore real pajama pants to bed and these were light, light blue with tiny pinstripes. And his hair was all standing up on his head, so he was hard to take seriously in the morning and no one bothered to answer.
He took a seat on an island barstool right next to Maggie and started making faces at her.
Indie was watching us with a smile on her face as she frosted cupcakes with a butter knife. I told you she wasn’t a baker. They were pink and had something mixed into the frosting. Little bits of dark red things.
I asked her the same question though. “What the hell are you doing, Indie?”
“You can see with your own eyes that I am baking.” She stopped her frosting and beamed a smile at me.
And I remember thinking, Well, at least she had the good sense to wear an apron so the damn thousand-dollar dress I had made specially for her didn’t get ruined.
But then I said, “Why are you baking?”
McKay was already gathering up ingredients for pancakes, so he wasn’t paying attention. Donovan was busy talking to Mags.
“Because Maggie wanted cupcakes and dewberries for breakfast, so we went out and picked some berries and I made cupcakes.”
“Dewberries?” I was confused. Did we have dewberries on this property? I didn’t think so. But it had been twenty years since I went wandering around anything but the gardens.
But that’s when McKay paused his kitchen duties, finally realizing that things were… off. “We’re not eating cupcakes for breakfast. And your birthday cake is sitting in the freaking fridge. I picked it up yesterday afternoon.”
“Cupcakes. Pancakes. I’m not sure there’s much difference, McKay. Besides, I wasn’t gonna let her eat them. They’re for later.” Then she set her butter knife down, wiped her hands on her apron, and panned a hand at a tray of champagne glasses and a pitcher of what looked like orange juice. But the open bottle of champagne nearby told me it was not just orange juice. “We’re having mimosas, too.”
So then I was thinking. OK. We have Indie up early. We have cupcakes. We have boxed cereal. We have the dress. And we have mimosas.
We didn’t let Indie drink. Ever. It was a rule.
All this was settin’ off little alarms in my head. But I couldn’t place my finger on why. It was all unusual, but there was nothing bad about any of it. Still, my stomach had that feeling it gets when a job is about to go wrong.
Donovan finally joined the conversation. “We don’t drink champagne for breakfast.”
Indie aimed a smile at him now. “We do today. I am no longer a teenager and I want to celebrate.”
“You’re not old enough to drink yet, either.” That was McKay, who was only half paying attention again because he was plopping pancake batter onto a skillet.
“Jesus Christ. You are all a bunch of old men. Don’t ruin my birthday before it even gets started. Have a freaking drink.”
She started pouring up mimosas and handing them out. McKay paused his cooking, took a glass, and smiled at Indie like she was the light of his life.
And she was. I knew that. We all knew that. McKay loved Indie so fiercely hard it made my heart ache for him.
Then we all had a glass and Indie lifted hers up. “To the first day of my twenties.” She paused to huff out a laugh. “You know, I never really thought I’d make it this far.” She looked at each of us in turn, her face a little more serious now. “I would not be here without you guys. So… thank you.”
And that… that we could drink to. So we did. We drank, and McKay gave Maggie the first batch of pancakes. And he cooked some more. And Indie refilled our glasses and we drank those too. Donovan was teasing Mags, trying to steal pancakes off her plate. And I just… watched them as all this happened.
Really and truly thankful that I bought Indie at that auction ten years ago.
We had a little family here and it was good. Everything was good.
Until Nathan St. James showed up at the door.
That was when things really got weird. And I’m not specifically talking about Nathan. So. Whatever. Regardless of what Indie thought, I was not jealous of that kid. Not ever. I didn’t like him. And I didn’t think he was good enough for Indie. Especially after I caught him with that cheerleader from high school. But it wasn’t him.
It was her.
She was the weird thing that day, not Nathan.
She kissed me.
And I did kiss her back. I could lie and say I didn’t want to, or I wanted to take it back after it happened, but I did want to kiss her and I didn’t want to take it back.
I wanted to do it all again.
Because the God’s honest truth was… I loved her. I had always loved her. From the first moment I saw her in that snake-wrapped cage, I loved her.
And by this time, her twentieth birthday, I wanted her.
The only thing standing in my way was McKay.
So when he walked out after Nathan left and Indie kissed me like I was the only man in her life, I followed him. I wasn’t even thinking about Indie in that moment. I know what I said over the years.
I paid for her.
I paid for everything, come to think of it.
She is mine.
But I knew, one hundred percent knew, that Indie was not mine.
She was ours.
And if I had her, he would have her too.
That’s not McKay’s style. At all. Believe me, I have tried. If the way I feel about Indie is love, then the way I feel about McKay is… obsession.
But he’s even more traditional than I am. Donovan was always more progressive, and I wasn’t sure Donovan mattered, really. He was here, he was there, he was all over the place when it came to Indie.
But McKay. He was different. If he walked out, everything would fall apart. This house of cards we’d been building with Indie for the past ten years would cease to exist.
That was always what I loved about our life. That it was something shared. I knew better than most that having everything in life except people you love to share it with was no way to live. And when I bought Indie, I made a promise to myself. Two, actually. One, that she was not coming home with me to be my plaything like the other girls who were bought on that island. Two, that McKay was my first priority, no matter what. He was my best friend. And when he said he would do this with me, when he agreed to be on my team… I agreed to be on his.
We were a package deal. Whatever happened, we were in this together.
Some might say, Well, if you would choose McKay over Indie, then maybe you don’t really love her.
But I would disagree. I wasn’t choosing McKay over Indie.
I was choosing us.
All of us.
Outside McKay was
angry. I didn’t blame him. But Indie was twenty now. And I told him that. I told him she could make up her own mind. We raised her as well as we could. We gave her everything she needed. She had a childhood, and she had Nathan as she was growing. We hadn’t forced her to love us. And if McKay wanted to walk away there was nothing I could do to stop him. But if he did, I would walk away too.
That was the deal.
I would go with him and not stay with Indie. Either we did this together, or not at all.
So if he walked away, I walked away. And Indie would be left with Donovan.
And that probably would’ve been fine. Donovan could take care of her as well as either of us. But I knew McKay would not walk away if I went with him and left her behind.
It was emotional blackmail. I get it. But I didn’t care. It worked.
McKay stayed.
And we went back inside to find Indie and Donovan sitting on the couch in the TV room. Her back was to us because she was sitting in his lap, straddling his thighs, and Donovan’s hands were caressing her ass. Lifting up that flirty skirt of her dress to reveal the skin of her hips.
I recall thinking… What the fuck is happening right now? I knew this was not in the plan. A kiss in the hallway, OK. That was the first step. I figured we’d be taking steps. Maybe even baby steps. So I was shocked to find Indie and Donovan like this. And I think McKay was too. Because we looked at each other with the same furrowed brows.
I was about to say something when my head started spinning.
Not in a bad way, either. But a soft spin. My body relaxed a little. My muscles went slack. I was looking McKay in the eyes when this change inside me was taking place.
He laughed. Like… laughed. Loudly. And said, “I feel drunk.”
That was when I remembered we drank all that champagne. And that feeling in my gut—that signal I get when the job is about to go sideways—it just floated away.
And that was when everything changed for the second time that day. But it would not be the last.
Indie and Donovan paused their kiss. And they both looked over her shoulder. Donovan looked a little confused, like he was feeling the effects of the morning mimosas too. But Indie was smiling at me. Or maybe McKay. It was hard to tell because we were standing shoulder to shoulder and her eyes were wandering between us. Almost as if they were unfocused.
And then she was up on her feet, erasing the distance between us.
And the next thing I knew… we were kissing.
All three of us.
It was the most exciting moment of my life.
Her hand was grabbing my cock. And when I looked down at it, her other hand was grabbing McKay’s.
And the next thing I knew she was leading us both over to the couch. I sat down on Donovan’s right and McKay sat on Donovan’s left. And Indie got back in Donovan’s lap and whispered, “This is my present. This is all I want today. Just to be with you.”
But she meant us.
All of us.
Because she was not Donovan’s, or McKay’s, or mine.
She was ours.
Finally.
That’s what I remember thinking. Finally.
Because even though I would not admit it until that very moment, this was what I really wanted when I bought her at that auction. And every single moment between the island and her twentieth birthday was just… a lie.
One long, fat, delusional lie.
After that I don’t really know what happened. I know I was hard. I know her mouth was on my cock. Several times. I know I was inside her. We were all inside her.
Donovan was first. She was clawing at his shoulders when she sat down in his lap. Her head fell back a little, her eyes rolling back in her head. McKay was unzipping her dress. Pulling the bodice down to her waist so his hands could cup and squeeze her breasts.
She was kissing him. And I remember watching. Like I was just an observer, outside of things. Just floating there above them. But then her hand was reaching in my pants to squeeze my cock. She was pumping it up and down. Slowly. Confidently. And I had this fleeting thought, this sick tightening in my stomach. Wondering… where did she learn to do this?
But then I remembered that McKay said she had been seeing Nathan up at college. So I guessed she learned all this stuff from Nathan. It bothered me. And it still bothers me now.
I remember her riding me. I remember being buried deep, deep inside her. My hands were on her hips, urging her on, and she was writhing in my lap. Then I looked up and Donovan was behind her, fisting his cock as he eased forward. He gripped her ass with one hand and held his dick stiff and the next thing I knew he was sliding inside her. I could feel him inside her.
My head rolled to the side and I caught McKay’s half-mast eyes. He was leaning back into the couch cushions, jerking off as he watched.
I don’t even know if he fucked her that day. I could not say, even if my life depended on it. The whole thing was a blur because she drugged us.
She put something in those drinks.
I knew it. But I didn’t care.
There are flashes of memory after that. But that’s all they are. Just flashes. It was her birthday and we were doing birthday things.
I think.
We ended up outside in the pavilion. All four of us stretched out on that bed swing Indie loved so much. I remember the swaying of it. All of us. Swaying like babies in a cradle.
I can’t recall another single moment of such pure happiness. Not before, not since. It was perfect. Warm and sunny. Just the right amount of cooling breeze passing over our hot, sweaty bodies. Pink cupcakes on the table next to bottles of champagne. And the paper lanterns and floating candles were ready for us to light them up with fire and set them free to float up into the sky and across the lake. Carrying our dreams and desires to the gods of the Louisiana woods.
The birds were singing, and in the background, there was this low thrumming hum. And I realized that the cicadas were back. After thirteen years of living underground getting ready to emerge and breed, they were back like a secret hiding just out of sight.
I was stuck in some dream state thinking about those cicadas, thinking Indie wasn’t even living here the last time they came. I wanted to tell her all about them. All the little things I had learned about them growing up because I knew she would understand the demon bugs living under our feet.
I loved Indie for many reasons but I mostly loved her because she understood this place. She knew it was the garden of good and evil. Just like that garden I plucked her out of ten years ago.
She had learned the way of the woods.
She had made deals with the snakes and the gators.
She knew better than to pass through the gates without caution.
And then I remember Nathan St. James looking down at our naked bodies. His mouth was moving but I couldn’t make sense of what he was saying. His words weren’t coming out right.
All I knew was… first he wasn’t there—and then he was.
And that was when everything changed.
And not one bit of it could ever be taken back.
I have been reliving that day for four years.
Wondering about all the ways it went wrong when I should’ve been celebrating all the ways it went right.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE - McKAY
PRESENT DAY
For some indeterminable amount of time everything is silent.
Indie is lying on the couch, eyes still closed. Donovan is leaning over her, the word ten still echoing in our heads.
I’m holding my breath, waiting for something to happen. I’m not sure what. But my world was just rocked to the core and for some reason I feel like this needs to be acknowledged with a natural disaster of epic proportions, or a fucking troop of trumpeters, or something.
“Indie!” I finally exhale with that one word. I grab her shoulder and shake her, then look up at Donovan. “What the fuck! What the fuck, dude! She was gonna tell us the trigger word!”
“She can’t tell us the fuckin’ trigger word, McKay. It doesn’t work like that. She told us what she could. Forcing her to say more under hypnosis is unethical.”
“Fuck you and your ethics! Someone got to her! Someone triggered—” I grab my head. I want to pull my hair out. “That’s what happened on her birthday four years ago. That was the trigger!”
“She drugged us. She came on to us and made us…”
“What? Made us… what”
“None of that would’ve happened if we weren’t drugged. Don’t you get it? He sent her to kill us that day!”
“No shit, asshole!”
“And he’s been working her for nine years, McKay. You don’t think he built in some kind of self-destruct mechanism?”
I pause for a moment. Thinking. Trying to come up with the answer to this new problem.
“Her mind is messy right now. We can’t just go poking around looking for answers and not expect there to be consequences.”
Indie moans on the couch. Then her eyes fly open and she sits straight up like a puppeteer is pulling her strings. “What. The fuck!”
“Indie!” I kneel down next to her, my hand on her shoulder. “Are you OK?”
Donovan is right beside me. “Do you remember any of that?”
Indie looks at him, then at me, her eyes wide and her mouth open. “What did I say?”
Donovan stands back up and sighs. “We were talking about your birthday, Indie. Your twentieth birthday. Do you remember what you told us?”
She squints a little, then lifts her head up to him. “Maybe?”
“What do you remember? Tell us, Indie. Tell us what you remember.”
She closes her eyes and swings her legs over the side of the couch, her fingers grasping for my shoulders like she needs to steady herself. “I’m not sure.”
Donovan sits down next to her. “Try harder. Just… take a deep breath and let your mind go blank. Then think back to what we were talking about. I led you into it with a timeline. And when we got to your twentieth birthday, you stopped me and went back to when you were fifteen. Can you tell us—”