A man is starting to follow me. I glance back once to see him and note the torn flyer in his grip. He’s comparing my face to the drawing there. Thankfully, it’s not a very good drawing.
“Okay,” I say into the receiver, even though I’m more than distracted by the growing clamor of voices.
“Miss Maxwell has agreed to turn witness for the Mexican government. It’s not a perfect deal, but it’s something. If she testifies, they’ll drop the harshest charges against her, and all she’ll be left with is the fines for the petty crimes.”
Oh good, more debt.
I’m trying to avert my eyes as I pass people, but it’s not working. Apparently, everyone watched the news last night. What was once an annoyance has turned into a reenactment of the Pied Piper with a crowd following me wherever I go.
“So,” I gain my focus once more, “what does that mean? Will she come home soon?”
“Hard to tell,” I can hear him shuffling paperwork, “as far as I know, there’s no trial date set at this time, so it’ll likely be months, but at least there’s a chance now.”
When I end the call, I don’t know if I should be relieved or worried. I’m happy for Indigo that she might not rot in a prison, but what does that mean for me?
A shout behind me pulls me back to the present. I didn’t hear it clearly at first, but as it echoes again, I have no doubt.
“It’s her! It’s the missing girl!”
The crowd behind me rushes forward. Hands paw at me, all trying to get a piece. No amount of my screams or shouts of, “I’m not her!” will stop them. Maybe they think my father will offer them a couple thousand for a finger or my right arm.
I shove a woman back and swing my duffel hard to connect with two others. The crowd breaks and I know I have one shot. My feet find traction and I run as fast as I can. Without breaking stride, I slip the shoulder strap over my chest and increase speed once my bag isn’t working like an anchor. A few of them persue me for a block or so, but as I near Declan’s place, I’m finally alone again.
I circle the block once to be sure before I start climbing the stairs. It’s crazy to stay here. I should move on. Abandon the life I’ve made and try to make a new one somewhere. This is only going to get worse. Is my relationship with Declan really worth this insanity?
I knock twice and try to straighten my disheveled clothes. The door pulls open. He’s there in an oversized long sleeve shirt and sweats. Rory is dancing in a tutu in the living room, and I’ve stepped into the perfect domestic heaven.
Yes, he’s worth every bit of this sacrifice.
Declan’s smile melts on his face as he sees me. “What happened?”
“People think I’m that girl,” I say. I set my duffel bag on the floor. “It’s not a big deal, mostly annoying.”
He catches my chin to hold my face to the light. “You’re bruised.”
I’d nearly forgotten Jacoby. How do I explain that?
“I was attacked in an alleyway the other day,” I say, and at least it’s not a total lie. “Just a minor concussion.”
His arms capture me and pin me to his chest before I have a chance to react. I’m not used to concern. It’s not typical in my life. My father would have tracked an attacker down, but not out of protective feelings for his daughter. No, because it would set a bad precedent for the future if there were no retribution given. But this, this feels wonderful to be cared about and fussed over.
“I may never let you leave my side,” he whispers into my hair.
I have to admit, it sounds great to me.
Chapter 26
It’s a perfectly lazy day. We don’t venture out, not even once. We play silly games like Hide and Seek and Ring Around the Rosie with Apollo to keep Rory happy. I wear Declan’s oversized cable knit sweater when I get cold. Rory naps on my lap while Declan and I watch a movie. I braid her hair as she sleeps, and Declan steal kisses up and down my neck when he gets bored. Dinner is oven roasted chicken and bargaining with Rory to eat her vegetables in order to get ice cream for dessert. I do the dishes and Declan gives Rory a bath. She gives me a hug and a kiss and whispers, “I love you lady,” before she toddles off to bed.
It’s something kids say. That’s what I tell myself, but I love her too. I brush my teeth, and change into pajamas bottoms paired with his cable knit sweater. It would be so easy to fit in here. Assimilate and become theirs. But those thoughts are dangerous, and I can’t linger long.
Declan returns only five minutes later. His lip is between his teeth. I can tell his mind is racing as it often does. As his gaze falls on mine, it’s there—the heat, the plans, and the need he feels for me.
“I’ll take the couch,” I blurt out before he can take another step.
His brows furrow a moment before he shakes his head. “Apollo sleeps on the couch.”
Apollo bumps my hand with his furry head as if to urge me off.
“I can have the floor then.”
Declan extends his hand to me and pulls me to my feet.
“You don’t want to keep me warm?” he asks, and I have to focus on breathing or I might pass out. “You think I snore?”
“Most men do,” I say to fill the space, but his soft smile turns to a frown. He’s taken it the wrong way, assuming I mean that I’ve shared a bed with so many and they all snore. Truthfully, I’m terrified to follow him up those stairs because I’m not Indigo Maxwell, and Harper Sutton isn’t ready to find out what comes after the fade to black in all the romantic movies.
He thinks I don’t trust him, I’m sure of it. As if he’s not worthy. I wish I could explain all the pieces he doesn’t know. The pressure from his fingertips pulls me closer. The heater is off, and the room has a chilled bite to it. But Declan is warm, wrapped around me, and his breath is hot as it skips over my skin. His lips find mine, electrifying, and my arms naturally loop around his neck. His fingertips glide over my ribcage, tickling even through the cable knit.
He captures my surrender into his arms. My hair falls loose as he frees it from the pins that kept it in place. His long fingers glide up into the length. My knees and best intentions feel weak. But my heels dig in, because this is where I stop.
“What’s wrong?” Declan asks, his breath labored and urgent.
“Your daughter is down the hall,” I say. “This isn’t right.”
His lips find my neck, then my earlobe and trace my jaw back to my lips. “She’s asleep,” he whispers between kisses. “I swear it’s okay.”
I’ve never had to make this choice. It was always going to be Reg. Intimacy was never one of our vices, but I know I want more than this. I know I can’t throw it all to the wind, and I step back.
“I’m not sleeping in your bed,” I say.
“She's not coming in.” He tries to assure me, but I yank the blanket from the end of the couch and lay it on the floor.
“She's two,” Declan says.
The puff of air from the pillow I've dropped blows back my hair.
“We won’t do anything you don’t want to,” he says, and he almost has me there. But I'm a good girl and I was raised in a Bible reading, god-fearing sort of home and even the appearance of evil should be avoided.
“I shouldn't be here at all, staying the night and whatever,” I tell him as I drop to the floor and stretch out my legs. “If it weren't for the fumigation, and my spent paycheck, you know I'd be at home right now.”
Declan nods because he knows it’s true. Despite Indigo’s past, all I’ve ever shown him is virtue.
“I guess I’m tired of sleeping alone,” he says as he sinks down to the couch. “I was hoping you’d stay with me.”
I rub my lips together so tight I feel like they might pop. I want to, of course I want to. But when it comes down to it, the choice is clear.
“I’m sorry, Dec,” I finally say. He collapses back onto the couch as if I've shot him right through the heart. I go up on my knees so I can see him where he’s pretended to die. “Only because it would
n’t look right, me wearing your sweater, your arms around me, it's just not right, even if it’s innocent.”
My knees crack as I stretch out over the top of the blanket. The night air seeps through my flannel pants. I tug at the hem of the sweater to coax another inch or two out of its length. Morality has its price, and for me that means a chilly night.
The couch cushions groan as he shifts. Restless. That’s his price. I close my eyes again. A tickle trailing over my arm brings them open. His fingers have found me. Like a bored child, he traces the distance between each knobby cable knitting pattern.
“You don't look very comfortable, Indigo.”
Her name pricks on my skin as if a goat head sticker has weaseled its way into the fibers to torment me.
“Comfort doesn't always accompany moral standards,” I say in my most high society tone, but he only grins because it doesn’t sound like me.
“You take my bed,” Declan says. “I’ll take the couch. Apollo can have the floor.” His dog’s head pops up to argue the plan, but drops when Declan shoots him a look.
“Are you sure?” I ask as I take his outstretched hand.
“Yeah. All this,” he searches for the words as he pulls me to my feet, “high moral standards business helps me remember who you really are. I wouldn’t want it any different.”
His arms wrap around my waist to pull me close. The heat of his breath curves over my shoulder and across my neck as he tucks his head there. Once more, I can’t help the feeling that I’m finally with the person I needed to find all along.
And for once, I feel like me.
∞ ∞ ∞
It’s the best way to wake up when Declan kisses my forehead the next morning. He waits for my eyes to open before he whispers, “You can have the shower first. I have to get Rory up.”
For a moment after he leaves, I stay there, in his bed on the floating loft, like I’m sleeping on the edge of a cliff. Maybe I am. Everyone has always talked about falling in love. Maybe that’s where I am right now, standing on the edge, ready to fall.
∞ ∞ ∞
I send Greg to do my dirty work with Bridal World. I can’t risk being there if my father shows up. Jacoby and Marquez didn’t recognize me, and the report that made it back to him would say that they’d only harassed Indigo Maxwell, so there is no need for my father to come find Indigo. That being said, I don’t want to give him any extra one-on-one time that I don’t have to give him.
All day long, I have a hard time focusing. Not because I’m worried about being found out, or thinking about the life I used to lead, but instead I’m plagued with thoughts of what could be.
If I could be honest.
If I could reach out and tell Declan everything, maybe he could find some trapdoor that has eluded me to this point. He sees everything with those analyst eyes of his. I glance across the room and find him watching me. Pink glows in his cheeks for a moment before he looks back at his desk to hide his embarrassment. He sees everything, sure, everything but Harper.
It’s been long enough. Tonight, I need to make him see Harper.
∞ ∞ ∞
I wait until after Rory’s nighttime routine. I’m sitting on the couch when Declan returns from putting her to bed. My ID is in my hands, but I’ve pulled my long sleeve over it to hide it away. I’m hoping seeing it all in black and white will help soften the blow. The problem is, with a lie this big, there is no softening to be had.
The cushions shift as he sits in next to me. Warmth fills me as his arm slides around my shoulders to pull me against his chest. Every time I’m here, in this space, I feel it.
Home.
This is where I’ve always belonged.
“Dec,” I whisper, “I need to talk to you about something.”
“Mmm-hmm,” his voice echoes in the cavity of his chest beneath my ear.
“Dec,” I pull away because I can’t think clearly when he’s holding me. Instead of wanting to tell the truth, my body is all lies and betrayal because I don’t want to lose him.
His eyebrows jut upward with a lazy tremble. He struggles to pull his heavy eyelids open. It was a long day. Rory had another party at daycare and she came home wired and obstinate. Declan spent most of the evening in discipline mode, while I did dinner. It didn’t help his mood either that we were accosted twice on the way home from work by Harper hunters. The second time nearly came to blows. We walked away Declan said, “I wish that spoiled brat would come out of hiding so we could get on with our lives.”
And that’s what I’m trying to do, come out of hiding. But he’s barely listening because he’s exhausted. I had the comfy bed while he shared with Apollo on the couch. He needs sleep, not my confessions.
“Never mind,” I say, “you look really tired.”
Though his eyes don’t open, he frowns. “I’m never too tired for you, Max. We can talk.”
The edges of my ID cut into my hand, but I close my fingers around the smooth plastic and sigh. I’m a coward, maybe worse than I’ve ever been.
“Let’s just watch some TV,” I say. “It can wait.”
It can’t, but the light flickers on from the entertainment center, and Declan flips off the lamp. I want to believe that I’ve changed, but I haven’t. I’m still the same scared Harper who climbed out that bathroom window.
“Look,” Declan says, “Montgomery upped the reward again. It’s seventy thousand now. Maybe we should get you a disguise. There’s no way people are going to leave you alone.”
I’m sick of seeing myself on TV. If I can’t be honest with Declan, then I need to be honest with my parents, tell them I’m never coming home. That’s my only option left.
But then his face fills the screen and I remember just how much fear my father. Barely leaning forward, I pull away, slip my ID back into my purse, and tuck it behind my bare foot.
Running is my only option left. Next week, before my father returns.
I wrap my arms around Declan’s waist because it’s going to kill me to leave the man I’ve fallen in love with.
∞ ∞ ∞
We fell asleep right there. The first time Declan pulls away from me, the television is still flickering. I’m too tired to make it up the stairs. I pull the blanket over my shoulders and roll into the depth of the couch. Declan comes back before I can fall asleep and curves around me. I don’t even have time to protest before I hear Rory’s plaintive cry again.
The same process is repeated once or twice an hour until Declan gives up and sprawls out on the floor beside the couch, totally exhausted. Rory’s nightmares are keeping her up. Every time he slips back in beside me, I hear her terrified call in the night. Declan’s a walking zombie. Rory cries out again and he tries to pull himself to his feet, but I set my hand to his shoulder.
“Let me try,” I say, and I’m surprised that he’s willing.
“She has a binky on the dresser. Give her that and pat her back. She should go back to sleep,” he whispers in a voice laden with fatigue.
Declan is asleep before I make it two steps down the hall. It’s not a big deal, at least that’s what I tell myself. If Rory won’t fall back asleep then Declan will come rescue me, and at least he’ll get five minutes of rest.
But, I know it is a big deal. He’s trusting me with his daughter, letting me try to help because I’ve become this integral part of his life. I haven’t earned any of it, not really. Not when it’s all set on scales, my good, measured against my lies.
I push back the door and hear Rory’s little whimper of distress. The room glows with the yellow hue from a star nightlight screwed into the wall, lit enough that I can see the dresser and her pacifier.
“It’s okay, Rory,” I whisper as I cross the space. Light reflects off the hardwood floors as if the starlight is real. Her tears start, along with a moaning howl that squeezes my heart nearly as much as it burns my ears. Instincts sharpen as though I was made to understand her needs. It’s stupid because I’m not her mother, and I know that. But,
just as clearly, I know that my heart won’t stop breaking until I ease her fears.
Rory helps the pacifier into her mouth, but as I go to lay my hand on her back like Declan told me, she reaches for me. Tears reflect on her cheeks, snot drips from her nose, eyes wide as a Kewpie doll.
“Lay down.” I rub my hand over her downy soft hair. But her chubby, hot hand latches onto me, and her tears fall from her eyes once more.
“Pweese,” Rory says with her mouth still full of pacifier. “Pweese holda me. Pweese.”
Her plaintive request feels as though it might shatter me. Without another thought I scoop her into my arms. She tucks into me as though my body has only been waiting for her to fill this space. Five fingers clench my shirt collar, the other hand wraps into my dark hair before she brings it to her face. Soft sucking on her pacifier is the only sound in the room. I hold my breath and watch the simple perfection that is this little girl. The rocking chair is illuminated by her nightlight, as if a guiding star is highlighting my path. I sink into the glider and set my feet up on the ottoman. Rory shifts once to burrow deeper into my embrace. I pull a blanket from behind my head and spread it over the two of us. Her soft cries are nothing more than hiccupping motions, a soft jerk every 3 or 4 seconds and then less, and then nothing, only sleep.
Emotion builds in my throat, stinging my nose, burning the corners of my eyes. Why does it feel like I’m the missing piece, like this is the one place I’ve always been meant to land? As though my entire life has been spent searching for these two humans? How can I leave them now? How can I abandon my real home? Leaving them will be like ripping off an arm or giving up an organ and hoping I can make it without it. Impossible. Tears slip to her wooly pajamas, and I pull the blanket higher to protect her.
I’ll never be this happy again, not without them, and that’s the thought that shatters me, because staying isn’t an option.
Chapter 27
I hear the alarm, but I wrap my arms around Rory to steal five more minutes. I want to play hooky. I want to stay here with this little imp tucked into my arm for another lifetime or two. My heart feels complete with her snoring softly against my neck.
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