Page 105 of The Light We Lost

There were pictures. Pictures of me, as well as Nolan and me together. There was a picture of us holding Genny, the three of us beneath a Christmas tree. It was from our first and only Christmas together as a married couple. There was a baseball stored inside. One of my old bandanas. A bag of Lucky Charms.Glow-in-the-dark stars. Our wedding bands. The more I sorted through the box, the more it felt like a key to the past.

“Why do you have a bottle of whiskey?” I asked, not understanding why he’d keep it if he no longer drank.

“Before, when I was stressed out or down, I’d reach for the bottle. I thought I needed it.” A faint smile crossed his lips. “It sounds kind of dumb . . . but when I feel that way now, I like having the bottle around. Like knowing it’s available, and if I wanted to, I could reach for it. I could numb myself. But I don’t, and it’s not because there’s no alcohol around to tempt me. It’s because Imadethe choice not to. Makes me feel not so weak.”

I nodded, feeling like the pieces of the puzzle were coming together. I understood his logic. I understood how this could make him feel stronger. But I’d never thought of him as weak, and there was one thing I didn’t understand. “Why store it in this box?” I asked, my voice careful. “Why with these . . . pieces of your life?”

He looked at me like he thought the answer was easy. “So I don’t ever forget what picking up the bottle cost me. I want to remember everything I lost.”

Something in me broke as I realized it wasn’t sorrow in Nolan’s eyes, it was acceptance. He’d accepted that those parts of his life were gone, unreachable to him. The longer I stared at the box, the more I understood and the more my heart shattered.

Our marriage. Me. There was even the braided grass bracelet he’d snatched a few weeks ago. A dried golden flower from our garden. These pieces of his life still existed, yet he’d accepted they were already gone.

As though he didn’t deserve them.

“They don’t look so lost to me.” He didn’t respond, and I didn’t expect him to. His silence was answer enough, confirming my thoughts. It was the same thought I’d had when he told me he’d accepted his mom leaving. Leaning away from him, I set the box on the table before I faced him again, releasing a steadying breath. “I need you to do something for me.”

He dipped his chin, not even asking what it might be. “Anything.”

I smiled softly, glad to hear it. “I need you to resize the flower boxes you made so they’ll fit our house windows. I already measured, and they’re an inch too big.” His frame tensed, and if I peered deep into his eyes, I could see not only the recognition forming, but his walls building too. They were the same walls he’d had up when he’d given me the flower boxes. Even when he suggested I go back to New York early.

He could build all the walls he wanted—it wouldn’t be enough.

I ran my fingers through his hair, ensuring every bit of his gaze was on me. “I love you, Nolan . . . and I’m staying.” I pressed my lips to his, quieting the panic that was surely there, and repeated, “I’m staying.”

“Indy . . .” His throat bobbed. “You’re not. Youcan’t.” The disbelief in his voice was enough to cut me open. “You have your interview. A job waiting for you in New York.”

“I don’t.” They wouldn’t see the email I’d sent until the morning, but it was a done deal. “I asked them to remove me from consideration.”

His eyes widened as though I’d lost my mind. But I’d never felt more sure in my life. “You can’t, Indy . . . This was only supposed to be for a month. Your future isn’t here.”

“I decide where my future is.” I grabbed his hand, holding on through every word. “I’m not asking for permission, Nolan.Youtold me I didn’t have to. You said to take up the whole damn world. And this is where I want to be.”

He shook his head. “You can’t.”

“Why can’t I?” I pressed, my tone harder than before. Not because I was angry, but because I refused to let him do this. Not again. Feeling him shift beneath me, I straddled his waist, stopping him from getting up. “Tell me why I can’t be here. If you don’t love me, tell me now.”

It didn’t matter if I hadn’t heard those words from him in nearly a decade—Nolan loved me. I felt it.

“Of course I love you,” he whispered, the promise of his words brushing against my skin. “Loving you has never been the problem, Indy.”

Warmth radiated throughout me, his words a relief. No matter how confident I was in his feelings, there was no denying how amazing it felt to hear it. “Then what’s the problem?”

“Because I’m always going to need you more than you need me.” His gaze roamed my face, as if he believed our time was coming to an end and he had to absorb every detail. “Please don’t think I’m being self-deprecating. I’m just stating the truth. I have depression, Indy. I’ve had it since I was a kid—you know that. And it’s not going away. There’s no cure. I’ll probably be on medication for the rest of my life. And I’m okay with that.” His fingers skimmed my jaw, tender affection there. “But I’m a burden. Almost every single day one of my brothers checks in to make sure I’m okay, and that’s because they’ve watched me not be able to pick myself up . . . And you’re always going to put me ahead of you. You did it before and you’ll do it again. Maybe that would be okay if I gave you something in return, but I have nothing to offer you. I already drained the life out of you once before. I refuse to do it again. You deserve so much more.”

It would’ve hurt less if Nolan had told me he didn’t love me.

He was right. Nolan hadn’t confirmed it until this moment, and I might’ve not known the term for it until I was older—but I’d known he had depression. Knew the silent weight he carried. He hadn’t hidden that side from me. But that hadn’t stopped me from falling in love with him. Even before now, when he’d told me he’d been in therapy and was on medication, I didn’t think anything of it. It didn’t matter to me. Not because I didn’t care, but because it didn’t change who he was.

This was why he hadn’t pressed for more, had accepted it when I told him I couldn’t give him more than a month. Why he hadn’t asked me to stay. Why he’d pushed for us to go our separate ways all those years ago. Even why he broke our promise and asked for a divorce.

He truly believed he deserved to be left.

Eyes burning, I cupped his jaw in my hands. “I think you forget: I didn’t fall in love with the boy on the baseball field, playing under the bright lights.” I pressed my forehead to his, praying he’d see how much he was worth. How much he’d always been worth. “I fell in love with the boy I found in the dark.”

Chapter Fifty-Four

Indy—Then: Age Fifteen

---