Lovely Darkness (Creeping Beautiful)

I might be Adam Boucher, and I have certainly done some wicked things in my life, but I am not an evil man. I know this to be true in my heart. I am not an evil man.

McKay was already awake. Everyone was, actually. I was the last to come out of it. So that’s the face I saw when the nightmare was over. His. Smiling. Eyes a little bloodshot, but bright.

“There he is,” McKay said. It was his normal matter-of-fact tone but I could see the worry behind his eyes so I didn’t mention the nightmares.

I pushed them away and said, “Maggie?”

McKay shook his head. “Gone, Adam. Sasha left a message with Nick. He can tell you about it when you’re ready.”

“Sasha?” That didn’t quite make sense.

“Nick has the details,” McKay said. “But basically, she’s the one running those girls Nick Tate has been hunting down all these years.”

I had been lying on one of the couches, but I sat up for this. “Wait.” My head was pounding. “She what?”

“Turns out”—McKay sighed—“she was… picking them up or something. Putting them in safehouses, I guess. She took Indie, Nathan, Donovan, and Maggie with her.”

It took me a couple days to wrap my head around what happened and how everything had changed.

It was sad.

I was sad.

Not only because Maggie was gone, either.

I was sad about all of it.

The start, the middle, and the end.

Because I wanted this, didn’t I?

I wanted them to be gone.

I wanted my life with McKay.

Everything I did, from the moment I stepped into that island, right up to the moment when we drank the Lectra, was all wrong.

But as much as I resented Indie—I don’t know what life looks like without her.

I loved her in my own way. But that love was never going to be enough.

And now I’ll know if I could’ve done it better because I’ll never get another chance.

I won’t be the one to save Maggie.

Sasha will.

McKay comes out of his workshop laughing and looking down at Perrine DeCoudreau. I called her yesterday asking if she was still floating around with no direction and would she maybe like to do that with McKay and me for a while.

She said, “Why not.”.

So today Perrine drove up in a fancy silver convertible that is now safely tucked away inside the workshop.

Old Home has been put to bed. McKay and I pulled out all those white sheets and covered all the furniture. We locked all the windows, covered the pool, hired a property management company, and hired gardeners.

Nick told me everything Sasha said to him. Even the parts that had nothing to do with me.

She’s a smart woman who gives good advice.

So I’m gonna take that advice.

McKay and I are leaving Old Home. Maybe for good, maybe not.

And Perrine is coming along for the ride.

We’re gonna do it all again, but we’re gonna do it all different.

I meet them on the porch, pulling the old front door behind me and then locking it with my key.

“Ready,” McKay says.

“I’m ready,” I say back.

And the funny thing is, I think I really mean it.

I think I really am ready to move on.

We each grab one of the three roller suitcases at the bottom of the stairs and start walking away.

The driveway is long and a little bit winding. You can’t see the house from most parts, but I know which parts you can. And when we get to that last spot, I turn and look back at Old Home and give it a little salute. Then follow McKay and Perrine through the massive iron gates. We close them behind us and cross the street. The helicopter starts up as we make our way across the field of green, green grass.

We’re going south for now. Picking up a yacht in Miami, then heading down the coast of South America. What we do after that is anybody’s guess.

Once we’re all settled in the helicopter, we lift up and I get the best view of my home. It’s so pretty. So perfect. And maybe there are a lot of bad things connected with this house, but there was a lot of love inside it too.

One day, I promise that house.

One day, we’ll come back.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE - INDIE

I cup my hands around my mouth and yell down to Donovan. “Don’t be a pussy!”

Nathan nudges me. “Why are you so mean to him?”

I shoot Nathan St. James a dirty look. “I’m not mean to him. This is tough love. I’m sick of his whining and carrying on. And isn’t it the whole point of this endless, never-ending camping trip, anyway? We’re supposed to challenge each other.”

“Challenging each other doesn’t include the words, ‘Don’t be a pussy,’ Indie.”

That’s the new guy in our group. RK or whatever his name is. He’s such a fuckin’ know-it-all about rock climbing, I can’t stand it. I mean, maybe I’ve only been doing this for three months, but I’m practically as good as he is. “RK,” I sneer. “You do love your way, I’ll do love mine, OK?”