Hometown Hero

Chapter Sixteen: The Adams Horror Picture Show

I could smell his cologne.

Even in my sleep, it made me dizzy.

Opening my eyes barely, I mumbled “Home.”

“Hi.” He kissed my forehead, pulling the covers up over my shoulder “Don't get up. It's four in the morning.”

“Sleep.” I whispered, making no effort to be any more awake.

“Yes.” He nodded, kissing me again “Go back to sleep.”

I mumbled, “No. You sleep.”

“I can't yet.” He laughed, humming “I'll be back when you wake up, okay?”

“Mmm.”

Kissing my shoulder, he whispered, “I missed you so much. I'm so glad you're safe.”

“Me too.”

I felt his weight shift off the bed, and I buried my face in the pillow before my eyes slowly shut and sent me lazily back to sleep.

When I woke up again, Indie wasn't there.

Did I dream that he came back?

Was this some sort of coping mechinism I'd come up with last night? I questioned everything after that, wondering if the Matty thing was just a horrible nightmare that I'd produced so I could feel Indie close to me again. But as I stretched and looked up at the ceiling, I heard something downstairs. Staring at the bedroom door, I strained to listen. There was the sound of a chair scrapping across the floor, and I walked toward the door, wondering why Indie was downstairs and not sleeping like the dead next to me.

“...and now she's sleeping, so you have to be quiet, okay?” I heard him say, just before the sound of plastic hitting the hardwood echoed through the house. I rubbed my eyes, and walked down the stairs; the lights were still off, but the sun shone through the windows. Everything cast a shadow, but it was enough for me to get around.

Turning from the bottom rung, I walked toward the kitchen. I could hear Indie walking around, carefully closing cupboards and drawers, unaware that I was anywhere near him. When I reached the doorway, I could see him, his lanky frame outlined by the light through the window. Reaching for a chair, he moved away from the brightness.

And that was the first time I saw her.

I gasped, not even realizing it. My hand shot to my mouth, and I saw Indie turn his head. When he found me, he moved to his feet.

“Dawson.” He said, but I was backing away, wondering if what I'd seen was some weird mind trick, because of course I couldn't trust myself. Freezing, I wondered if there was some logical explination.

But I thought back to all of the signs, all of the things that hadn't made sense before; the extra food. Coming back to town for her. The way he looked at Dad and Papa when they told him about having a daughter of his own. He'd smiled, in a strange way; a way that wasn't surprised.

Because he already knew.

And then I remembered what Becca had said to me, about Indie and the diner. Was this the one? Was this Erin?

Every single fiber in me told me to run. Every impulse screamed, Get out, get out, get out of that house. Leave them here, forget you ever met him, and tell everyone you temporarily lost your mind.

But as he stood there, in the same jacket and shoes that I'd seen the very first time my eyes had ever met his, the same shirt that he wore the day we bought Charles, the same jeans he'd worn the day he almost kissed me.