Hometown Hero

Chapter Fourteen: The Waiting Game

I spent the next few days vollying my thoughts between what Emma said and wondering who Erin was. Indie never talked about his past with me, and I didn't mind it all that much. We were happy living in the present, taking things as they came.

Talking to him now, though, seemed impossible. The level of how much I did not want to ask was infathomable; I didn't want to dredge up the past, especially if his mom was a part of it. I guess I was being naïve, thinking that he'd lived this simple little life in a small town, avoiding the town over some miscommunication or other, and leaving for work when they needed him, wherever that was. But everything felt bigger now.

Walking around the kitchen at the diner, I hopped through the re-tiling and over the dangerous looking equipment. My hand rapped against the manager's office, and the door opened.

“Hi.” I said, seeing Dad and Papa speaking to Mr. Grisham. Confused, I prepared to ask, but when they looked up, Papa froze.

The papers he was holding rested on the table as he asked, “What's wrong, Dama? Was there something you needed?”

I lifted my hand “No, it's fine. I'll come back later.”

Mr. Grisham shook his head and gruffed, “No, no. Never a good excuse to interrupt a young lady and her father. Er- Fathers.” He turned to my dads, and nodded, “Looks fine and dandy to me, Mr. Bennet. If there's anything else you need, just give a holler, and I'll make the arrangements.”

He walked by, tipping his hat toward me as he stalked out the door.

“Mr. Grisham's the manager?” I asked, pointing my thumb at the door.

Papa nodded, “That man can't make a decision to save his life.”

“Dom, he's an important client.” Dad warned, chuckling “He's an indecisive old bird, but he's an important client.”

I laughed, “Oh, Dad.”

Papa looked over, leaning against the counter “Did you need something, Dama?”

I felt my stomach do a backflip, and took a deep breath “Kind of.”

“What's wrong, Dawson?” Dad asked, studying my face, “Homesick?”

“No, no. It's not that.” I smiled, seeing him snap his fingers in disappointment, “I talked to Becca, and she told me that she knew Indie's family, long before he left for his career; you know, his first tour. She told me about his mom, and his sister.”

Dad interjected, “The one in Portland?”

I nodded, “She said that they used to come here when he was younger, when his mom was going through chemotherapy.”

Papa gasped, “Oh my. What kind of cancer?”

“No idea.” I shrugged, fiddling with the laces of Indie's sweatshirt “It was terminal, from the way Becca explained it.”

“What about their father?” questioned Dad.

“Not around, I guess. She didn't say anything about him, anyway.”

They shook their heads, and I heard Papa whisper, “Such a shame.”

I sighed heavily, “I don't know what to do about any of this. I don't want to be the one questioning about his past, or making assumptions about whatever it was he went through. Does that even make sense?”

“Sweetheart,” said Papa, “It's okay to be curious. You care about him, and you want what's best for him, right?”

I nodded, “That's all I want.”

Dad added, “Then you need to talk to him. He's carrying so much on his own, it sounds like it's only a matter of time before he breaks.”

“Has he been seeing anyone about any of this?” Papa asked, his voice serious “Has he told you?”

I shook my head, “Not that I know of.”

My dads exchanged glances, and kissed me before going back to work. It was nice, but it didn't fix anything. Now all I could do was wait.

Staying at Indie's got easier; talking to him every night before I went to sleep, hearing about all of the things they were doing and the people they were meeting. Indie gushed about the fans, telling me how proud he was that they were all fighters.

“Not quite like you, though.” He embelished, “You're a little Viking.”

I laughed, “Why? Because I almost took a header off the counter?”

“Because you got back up.” replied Indie, and I scoffed. He assured, “I'm serious. You stood up and walked out. You even tried to get me to go with you, and I fought you the whole way. I'm proud of you.”

I sighed, “You know, this would sound a lot better if you were here to tell me in person.”

He laughed, “I know. I'm such a bad boyfriend, leaving you there all alone.”

“I'm glad you agree.” I joked, pacing through the kitchen and glancing out the window “It's raining again.”

“You should go somewhere. AJ used to always go out shopping when it rained, because no one was ever in the stores. Drive up to Salem and go into town.” He insisted, “It'll be good for you.”

I sighed, thinking “Maybe. It's going to cool down pretty soon, so I should buy a ridiculous winter sweater.”

“No sweaters. Sweaters means summer's ending and that means you'll be leaving.” I heard him laugh, “Take the card, and buy summer things. They will be a worthwhile purchases, I'm sure.”

Eventually, we wandered into deeper conversation as I felt the house get darker. I found myself carefully avoiding talk about my dads, or people in town, or anything that might make it more difficult to hide what I knew. Sadly, this didn't last as long as I'd hoped.

“I talked to Becca today.” I mentioned as I climbed into bed. I pulled the blankets up over my knees, hoping they'd keep me warm enough tonight after this tough conversation.

“Oh?” hummed Indie, unaware “What's going on?”

I took a deep breath and let it out, “Who is Erin?”

There was a long pause.

Indie's breathing was the only sound on the other end of the reciever, and it killed me that he wasn't right here. I needed to see his face, to read it and figure out if he was trying to hide something from me.

After a moment, he spoke again, “Dawson, I need you to promise me something, and I understand if you can't do it. I understand that it's a big thing to ask of you, and that it's not going to be easy. But I need you to, for me.”

Swallowing my pride and unexplainable fear, I asked, “What is it?”

Indie's voice was soft, and I could hear the worry seep into his words “I need you to promise me that you'll wait. That you'll wait to ask questions when I get back, because I don't want you hearing anything from anyone else. I want you to hear the truth, and I want you to hear it from me. Can you do that for me, Dawson?”

My chest ached. I didn't like this feeling; the feeling that Indie was hiding something from me, some secret that would only end up hurting me. I'd rather him rip the Band-Aid off now than make me wait another week and a half before he did it.

“Why, Indie?” I asked, voice thick and overwhelmed “What aren't you telling me?”

Indie pleaded, “Please, Dawson. Please promise me, just this once. I'll tell you everything; I will.”

I wanted him here, next to me, explaining away everything people tried to tell me about his life, who he was and what that meant. I needed to know that the man I was in love with wasn't the Beast, hiding in his castle and keeping me prisoner.

“I promise.” I said, closing my eyes and praying that I wasn't making a huge mistake.