Page 121 of Pretty Nightmare

But the little triplets are… Maggie.

They are Maggie.

I back away, stumble over a tree root and fall to the ground, then scramble back, into a shadow and under the cover of a shrub, just as the woman comes to the window and peers out.

She grabs the curtains, closes them, and then she’s gone.

I’m on my feet, running hard through the woods, trying to get back to the truck—and that’s when the memories come rushing in.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR - McKAY

It’s a nice day on the beach even though I can tell Adam, Donovan, and I are all thinking about everything else that’s happening to us.

Not that Donovan knows about Nathan. That’s not a short conversation because first we have to explain that Nathan isn’t dead. And I don’t know what’s on his mind, because that must be another long twisted road to navigate.

And this day needs to stay simple.

So we beach.

Just thinking the words make me smile.

Because even though we’re all thinking about serious shit, Maggie and Indie make the most of their beach day. I’d forgotten how much of a nature girl Indie was as a child. Maggie isn’t as rugged as her mother, but she tries hard. And she listens to Indie when she points out things Maggie needs to know. Like the snakes slithering along on top of the water. Or the gators hiding behind the reeds.

We don’t let them swim, even though Indie proudly informs us that she and Nathan used to swim down here nearly every day the summer she turned fifteen.

I look at Adam and see the panic on his face. But then he relaxes.

Indie at fifteen—she was in her prime. I feel sorry for any gator that crossed her back then.

It’s a nice slow day that makes Nathan St. James seem far, far away even though Indie brings his name up nearly a dozen times over the course of the afternoon.

Part tense. All of them.

And that’s where he needs to stay.

Tomorrow we will tell Donovan. And then… I don’t know.

I know Adam is worried about Nathan’s threat. He talked about it the whole ride home on the jet. Planned out seventy-five ways to kill that boy. But it’s all talk. At least for today.

Eventually the sun is hidden behind the trees to the west and we pack up, hungry for dinner.

We barbecue in the pavilion—steaks and corn on the cob—and eat out there too, with the TV blaring cartoons for Maggie as she and Indie lie on their swing and Adam, sitting in a nearby chair, pushes it with his toe every few minutes to make it sway.

Even Donovan relaxes, lying down on the couch opposite the one I prefer with his hands behind his head, pretending to watch cartoons with the rest of us.

Around eight-thirty Indie and Maggie go inside so Maggie can take a bath before bed. Donovan and I start cleaning up the mess we made. Adam wanders inside after the girls, but when we go inside with the dishes, he’s in his office with the door closed. Talking on the phone.

“So where did you guys go?” Donovan asks this as I pile our dishes into the sink. They can wait until tomorrow.

“I think we’re gonna have a little meeting about it tonight. But I’m pretty sure it can wait until tomorrow like the dishes.”

Donovan nods, but stays silent.

“You got something on your mind?”

“Yes. So—”

“Hey!”