I screw up my mouth at this.
“Why’s he wanna talk to McKay?” Adam asks what I’m thinking.
“I dunno,” Indie says, shrugging her shoulders as she scoots my legs off the couch and sits down.
Adam’s not looking at her. He’s pretending to be interested in the alien insurrection drama happening on the TV. “Why didn’t he just come out here and talk to him?”
“I don’t know, Adam. Why don’t you go ask him?” Indie’s the kind of girl who will match you mood for mood. She didn’t come out here meaning to be short with Adam, but he was short with her first. You get what you give when it comes to Indie.
Adam doesn’t even look at her. “I’m watching something.”
I stifle a laugh as Indie scowls at him. “He’s just being a dick tonight,” I tell her. “That’s all.” Then I stand up and head through the curtains towards the house, grateful that Indie came to save me. Even if it was just to have a stupid conversation with Donovan.
When I get inside, sure as shit, Donovan is waiting for me in the kitchen. He’s just closing the fridge door with two bottles of beer in his hand when I walk in.
“What’s up?” I ask. “You wanted to talk to me?”
He pops the top on one of the beers and hands it to me. “Yup. It was Indie’s idea, actually.”
I take the beer. It’s nice in the house. The AC is rushing through the vents down by my bare feet and the beer is very cold in my hand. It’s kinda perfect actually. And even though I should be concerned that Indie is up to something and she’s got Donovan involved, the annoyance that was building outside just slips away when I take that first sip.
Donovan pops the top on his beer too. And his eyes track me as he drinks.
I’m not gonna lie. Those eyes of his have always creeped me out a little bit. They’re dark, but not dark. I’m not sure that explains anything. They aren’t brown, but they’re not green either. Maybe it’s just that I’m used to blue eyes around here. We all have them, courtesy of the Company gene pool. Or maybe I have just always been a little mistrustful of Donovan.
He’s an Untouchable, like Adam. But it’s a whole different kind of Untouchable. The things his family were involved in were some deep-state shit. Genetic engineering. Manchurian candidates. All those little girls in that auction. And the zoo, of course. Hell, that entire island was something right out of that old story, The Most Dangerous Game. I’ve never been there, but just before Adam and his father came up to Alaska and stayed with us, I heard my father telling my brothers about it. I don’t remember the specifics, but it had something to do with a hunt.
And to be clear, they weren’t talking about hunting the animals.
Donovan sets his beer down on the counter and then leans both hands on it, kinda inching forward. I’m on the other side of the island, so we’re not that far apart.
Then his eyes unlock with mine and slip down my chest. When they come up, he’s smiling at me and I’m instantly annoyed again. “What the fuck do you want? And why are you looking at me that way?”
“You look pretty good, McKay. For an old guy. I’ve been meaning to tell you that.”
I feel one eyebrow rise up into my forehead. “You called me in here to tell me I look good? And fuck you. I’m not old. Yet. I’m only thirty-five.”
“I was just fucking with you. No, but for real.” His eyes do that tracking thing again, slipping down, then back up. “I look pretty good too though, right? I mean, I don’t work out like you and Adam, it’s mostly genetics.”
I laugh. I can’t help myself. “You look like a strait-laced asshole, that’s what you look like. You don’t even drink beer so I’m kinda pissed off that you’re wasting that bottle right there. We both know you’re only drinking it to bond with me. Or something. Spit it out. What the fuck do you want?”
“I’m trying to tell you. You’re just not listening.”
“You’re trying to tell me what?”
He smiles at me. It’s a weird smile, a little bit creepy like his eyes, and a chill runs up my spine. Then he shrugs. “OK. Forget it. I’m just gonna come out with it because I don’t really know how to talk to you, McKay. And pretending to flirt with you—”
I laugh. Like, I’m talking a serious guffaw complete with a backward head throw and closed eyes as I pretend to look up at the ceiling.
“What? It’s not that funny.”
“I’m sorry.” And I’m still laughing. “Did you… did you just say you’re… flirting with me?”
“Laugh all you want, asshole. But she and I?” He points to himself and then towards the front door. “We’re gonna fuck tonight. Whether you want us to or not.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me. We’ve been skirting around the rules a little for the past few weeks. But she’s tired of waiting for you to figure shit out with Adam, so”—he shrugs like this is all just out of his hands—“I’m gonna give you some friendly advice. As you Southerners say. Just kiss the man and get it over with.”
“Who?”
“Oh, please. You know who. Adam, for fuck’s sake.”
I laugh again. “Now, why the hell would I kiss Adam?”
“Because you two have been in love for as long as I’ve known you. And you can pretend you don’t feel that way, McKay. That’s fine. It’s your life.” He sighs. “But Indie’s not gonna let you get away with that special little relationship you two have had all these years anymore. She wants us all. At the same time. She made that very clear when she left me in here and went outside to send you in. So I’m just letting you know, I’m done skirting the rules. I’m fucking present. And I’m giving up a lot to be here. I don’t want to play by your rules anymore and neither does Indie.”
I actually do not know what to say to him. But turns out, I don’t have to say anything because he just keeps going.
“Look, we all know Adam has a thing for you. You know it, I know it, Indie knows it. And if one of us confronted him, he’d admit it. But you, McKay? You just push back. On everything. I don’t know why you do that, but I have fourteen years of schooling and that means I’ve earned the right to take an educated guess. And my guess is you hate change, McKay. You hate it. You’re all about a fucking routine. You get up at the same time every day. You make the same boring cup of coffee, you read the same bullshit news, and then you go out to the shed and you work on something. That’s your routine. And you’re gonna do this, without fail, until someone fucks up your good thing.”
I point at him. “Fuckin’ up my good thing is my example A. I don’t want people fuckin’ up my good thing. No one wants their good thing fucked up. It takes a long time to get a good thing, Donovan. It’s not a gallon of milk. It’s not something you just go pick up at the Pearl Springs Market when you run out.”
He grins and shakes his head at me. “That’s fear talking, McKay.”
“So what?” I throw up my hands. “I’ve never pretended to be fearless. I’ve never pretended to be anything. I do my fucking job, and I do it well. And so far, that’s worked out for me. It’s kept me alive, at least.”