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Unwrapping my arms, I stretched my legs out and stood. I unlocked the door and gave it a nudge, prompting Indy to move aside.

I stepped out, unsteady and reluctant to meet Indy’s gaze. So, I looked at the floor drains, the cracks in the pavement, and the neon pink laces in his boots, and I didn’t say a word.

Indy didn’t speak, either. He’d chattered nonstop for the past three days, filling the void left by my silence. I wished he would talk now. About anything.

“What happened back there?” he finally asked.

Why ask? He’d seen it for himself. I’d defended him, protected us. But, somehow, I felt like a villain. Or a monster, snarling and snapping my teeth while I was forced further and further into a corner.

When I didn’t respond, Indy crept closer.

I stared at his shoes. The leather was scuffed. Needed polish.

He moved until he was directly before me, beneath me, peering up with his golden eyes wide and purple curls spilling across his forehead. Reaching up, he touched my face and turned it till I was fully focused on him.

“I know you’re not all right.” He smiled sadly. “You haven’t been all right for a while.”

He would have held me if I asked, but I didn’t need to. He threaded his arms around my waist and pulled me in, then smoothed his hands up my back till I was bent over him with my chin resting on his shoulder.

It felt so right that I wondered why I ever ran away. Why did I mire myself in bad when I had something sogood?

He hung on, and I draped over him for a lingering moment. Then, he pulled back, pausing to tuck my hair behind my ear.

His expression gained a certain edge. Determination crept in as he asked, “Will you talk to me now?”

I nodded, and Indy nodded back.

“Not in here, though,” he said. “This place is gross.”

Taking my hand, he led me from the bathhouse into the sunshine outside. Around the corner of the building, we found a shady spot with a view of the hills and trees that bordered one side of the trailer park.

We sat side by side with our backs against the wall. Indy kept his fingers laced in mine like he thought I might bolt if he let go.

I wouldn’t. Not again. But I didn’t tell him so because I wanted him to hold on. I liked the press of his palm and the way he slid his thumb up my forefinger then back down, on repeat.

I’d agreed to talk but hadn’t yet, and Indy didn’t wait long to remind me.

Leaning over, he bumped his shoulder into mine.

“I think you should start.”

I nodded, but the words swirling around in my brain refused to fall in line. He wanted an explanation. He deserved an apology. I had neither.

It must have been over a minute before I managed a confession.

“I’m afraid.”

His head tipped, and his eyes flicked through a blink. “Of what, baby?”

“This.” I used our linked hands to gesture between us. “It’s different, and I don’t?—”

“You don’t like different,” Indy supplied.

I exhaled the last bit of breath in my lungs, feeling hollow and cavernous.

Indy scooted around until he could face me more directly. I wished he hadn’t. When he was beside me, I couldn’t see the worry creasing his brow.

“But it’s better, isn’t it?” he asked. “Better than me not knowing anything. It’s a good different.”