Page 39 of Came the Closest

In sparkling blue ink, I write, Can’t sleep because of the storm, and slide it back under the door. This time, when thunder reverberates across the charged earth, I don’t even flinch.

The scratch paper comes back a moment later. No really? I thought it was because I hid all your cleaning supplies.

A gasp tumbles from my lips, not humorlessly, and I plaster the paper to the door to write, You DID NOT.

*shrugs*, he scrawls, Milo’s awake too. Is the window seat still compatible with storms and cards?

With this note comes a Go Fish card. I hear children’s laughter muffled by the sturdy oak door. We probably should put Milo back to bed, but something stops me. Maybe it’s the promised distraction from Mother Nature wreaking havoc outside, or knowing Dad never did that. No matter how tired he was, no matter what time of the night I padded into my parents’ bedroom, did he ever say no to playing cards until the storm settled.

Folding the piece of paper, I tuck it into my bedside table drawer before I twist the doorknob. Colton and Milo stand in the hallway, side by side. Colton wears gray cotton shorts with a very rumpled Keep Falls Lake Blue t-shirt, and Milo wears his shark pajamas while he holds the Go Fish box of cards close to his chest.

My heart melts—sticky, sweet ice cream dropped on hot pavement level of melting.

“He said you don’t like storms,” Milo says, his curls sleep mussed and his cheek pillow indented. “The thunder’s too loud for me ta sleep.”

“It is,” I confirm.

Colton squats next to Milo and points at my window nook. “Crawl up there and get the cards out of the box, okay? I’m gonna find some flashlights in case we need them.”

Milo hesitates only long enough to scratch his knee before he runs across my room to do what Colton asked. His tongue pokes out the corner of his mouth and he grunts lightly as he opens the card box, completely unfazed by the lighting flashing outside.

When I turn around, Colton has straightened back to his full height. I realize now that I should feel self-conscious—I’m only wearing a faded, oversized Falls Lake t-shirt with wrinkled blue and white striped pajama shorts, but I don’t.

This is Colton. My childhood best friend and my soul’s mate and my fiancé for the summer. His disheveled dark hair and crinkled lake water blue eyes are as comfortable as my tee, and the tired smile at the corners of his mouth unknots my anxiety.

“If you do find flashlights,” I say, leaning my temple against the door jamb, “I doubt the batteries will work.”

Mischief tiptoes into his expression. “Yeah, I figured. I bought new ones today—batteries, not flashlights.” He grins lazily. “Can’t go a summer without using Ole Blue, now can we?”

Ole Blue—the Mag-Lite flashlight that saw us through many, many summer storms.

“You did?” I ask.

He scoffs. “You think I went out just to get donuts when they were predicting storms tonight?”

“Colton,” I say delicately, “you will drive thirty miles out of your way for any kind of food.”

At this, his smile turns boyish. “Okay, that’s fair. But yes, I bought new batteries. Consider it Storm Preparedness 101.” He nods in Milo’s direction. “By the way, I doubt he’ll last very long. He woke up more because he misses Indi than because of the storm. I’m going to text her, and if she responds, I’ll talk to her about where to go from here. I don’t want to wake her up if I can help it. Milo was about to crawl into my bed when I remembered your anxiety surrounding storms. I give him ten minutes, tops.”

I reach for my wave necklace, but I took it off before bed. “You didn’t have to get up for me, Colton.”

“No,” he agrees, holding my gaze. “I wanted to.”

And then he takes off down the hallway in search of flashlights.

Colton was wrong.

We’re three games of Go Fish deep, and Milo isn’t any closer to falling asleep. One of my legs dangles over the edge of the cushioned window nook, Colton is twisted sideways for his tall body to fit, and Milo sits cross-legged, leaning into Colton’s broad chest. I’m on my own team, the boys are together, and there is approximately five inches of space for the fishing hole, but we’re making it work.

Milo hasn’t mentioned Indi again, but she did respond to Colton. If it comes to it, he told her he’d pick her up, so I quickly made up the guest room, just in case.

“Hmm, let me see here.” I tap my chin and squint at my cards. Partly for drama, partly because my bedside lamp barely reaches this far across the room. “Milo, do you have a…whale?”

“You asked me that last time!” he exclaims.

I frown in mock confusion. “I did?”

He dissolves into a fit of giggles. “Yes!”