Page 64 of Came the Closest
Supper has been ready for nearly ten minutes, but I’m reluctant to call Colton and Milo inside. Not because they won’t be hungry, but because they will be.
From when they traipsed back down to the dock—Colton changed into pineapple dotted swim trunks and a faded yellow life jacket—I knew it would only be a matter of time before Colton coaxed Milo in. If Colton is one thing, it’s persuasive. Combine that with his daring side, and you’ve got yourself a lethal combination.
Milo sat on the dock for ten minutes before Colton’s exaggerated enjoyment of the lake became too intriguing. First, he eased back onto my paddleboard. He let his feet dangle in the refreshing water for a few minutes while Colton pinched his toes playfully, feigning innocence and blaming tiny fish. And then, having grown content with the feel of the lake on his skin, he let Colton lower him fully into the water, Colton holding him despite his life jacket.
It's been over an hour now, and I’m starting to think we won’t get Colton or Milo out of the water. I have one of the French doors propped open just so their merriment can drift into the kitchen while Indi and I cook. I also have Colton’s Choose Happy playlist shuffling on my phone to truly set the mood.
“If Milo doesn’t want to eat his broccoli tonight, maybe we’ll have Colton convince him.” Indi unplugs the electric skillet and carries it over to the table. “Worked like a charm for the lake.”
I purse my lips. “That means Colton would have to like broccoli.”
Indi shoots me a disbelieving look over her shoulder. “You’re joking, right?”
“Unfortunately, no. Eight-year-old Colton was convinced broccoli was baby trees. All it took was one Arbor Day presentation at school and…” I trail off when she stares at me blankly. “Oh. Right. You’re not a Nebraskan.”
“Which has to do with…?”
“Well, Arbor Day was started in Nebraska a long time ago as a day to plant trees and—Wait.” My brows lower. “It’s worldwide now, isn’t it? You’ve actually never heard of Arbor Day?”
Indi snorts and grabs the stack of plates from the island. “Yes, I’ve heard of it. You’re so gullible sometimes, you know that? Anyway, one Arbor Day presentation at school, and…?”
“And that was the end of Colton eating broccoli,” I say with a shrug. “I don’t think he’s touched it since.”
“Wow. And he thinks I’m stubborn,” she mumbles under her breath. She stares blankly at the toaster for a moment, then shrugs and snaps out of it. “Do you need help with anything else? If not, I’m going to go short sheet his bed.”
I laugh. “Go for it. But if he asks, because we both know he will, I wasn’t an accomplice.”
Indi salutes before she takes off. She snatches our damp towels to toss in the dryer and her bare feet thump up the stairs. I turn back to putting silverware and napkins around the table. I place them on the right side of the intricate blue floral plates. My mother and grandmother rarely use disposable plates; they claim that meals eaten from pretty dishware are appreciated more deeply.
This might not be my home, but I will continue to embrace that mindset. I want to love the lake house as much as my family has over the years. Tonight, it means using ceramic plates for a simple meal of hamburgers, broccoli, and smiley fries.
I’ve just pulled an oven mitt on when squelchy footsteps approach the open doors, but I pretend not to hear. I hum along to Niko Moon and feign ignorance. Moments later, dripping arms wrap around my legs, eliciting a squeal from me.
“I went swimming, Annie!” Milo exclaims and he beams up at me with his head tipped back. Water drips from his soaked trunks onto the hardwood, and from his curls onto his forehead. His life jacket is nowhere in sight. “Did you see? Did you see me swimming?!”
“I did see,” I tell him. My clothes are soaked now, but I’d take a thousand more hugs just like this if it meant Milo was smiling. “Now, can you tell me something? It’s really, really important.”
Milo nods emphatically, excited to be in on something demanding such importance.
In my peripheral vision, I see Colton step through the door. I keep my focus on Milo. “Did Colton tell you to give me a hug before you dried off?”
The only answer I need is Milo’s eyes going wide. He makes an O with his lips and darts a glance over his shoulder. I laugh and hug him right back to me, his tiny back sun-warmed under my palm. Arms come around the backs of my knees, and he nestles his head contentedly into my thighs. Bedtime tonight might have to come a little extra early.
“Oh, my gosh, Milo! You’re dripping all over,” Indi exclaims as she comes around the corner. She points at Colton. “You literally had, like, four towels with you!”
“He said Annie looked like she was too dry,” Milo offers unabashedly. “And that she needed a bath.”
I look across the kitchen with a raised brow, but my comment dies on my lips. Just like Colton’s seen me in a swimsuit since childhood, I’ve seen him. I’ve rubbed sunscreen on his pinkened shoulders and watched him evolve from boy to teenager to man. But right now, the Colton from five years ago seems significantly less manly than present day Colton.
This Colton is all man. Sunlight silhouettes broad, tanned shoulders and softens the line of his sharp collarbone. A thin, pale scar runs along his left ribcage from a ride gone bad on Blueberry Wine seven years ago, and dark hair peppers his muscled torso, disappearing into the waistband of his trunks. The six-pack he once sported is still there, but it’s softened. Somehow, it looks better than when it was strongly defined.
His stomach is faintly pink from his coffee escapade earlier, and I have the strangest desire to find salve in the bathroom to soothe his skin.
“Milo, let’s get you dried off and changed for supper. You—” Indi points at Colton “—are getting an extra-large serving of baby trees for getting the kitchen and Cheyenne all wet.”
Colton looks at me with a pained expression. “You told her about Arbor Day?”
I lick my suddenly dry lips and smooth clammy hands over my damp shorts. Is it hot in here or is it just me? “I, uh…”