Page 55 of The Light We Lost

“Why would you need permission to touch my hair?”

Because I won’t want to let go.

Instead of revealing that I was insane, I reached for Winnie’s grubby little fist. It didn’t matter if she was small—I’d learned how strong her grip was when she was a baby. Gently, I loosened her hold, careful not to hurt either of them. “There,” I said after freeing her, and because I wasn’t a creep, I didn’t run my fingers through her hair. Instead, I plucked my niece out of her high chair, plopping a kiss on her cheek. “Don’t worry,” I murmured, loud enough for Indy to hear me. “She’s always had a thing for getting her hair pulled.”

I waited, excited for Indy to snark something back. I was playing with fire, but IlovedIndy’s fire. When she didn’t respond, I looked up, surprised at what I found. Her cheeks were a rosy red, her gaze entirely on Wren. She was too distracted by the little demon in my arms to pay heed to the clumps of food in her hair.

Seeing her like that, the way she was watching Winnie . . . It was enough to make me question how I’d ever let her walk away.

“You’re beautiful.” I hadn’t meant to say it aloud, but the hint of a smile on Indy’s lips made any potential rejection worth it. I cleared my throat, adjusting Winnie in my arms. “You want to hold her?”

“That’s okay.” There was something tender in her voice. “I like seeing you hold her.”

Her gaze swept to mine, and I was grateful she didn’t look away. Didn’t try to hide what she was feeling. Somehow, without even a word, I knew what was running through her mind. It was exactly what was going through mine.

I’d bet it scared her just as much as it did me.

My fingers itched with the need to reach for her, but I never had the chance. Shay stepped back into the room. “I had an idea.” She reached for her daughter, slipping her out of my arms. “After we get Winnie cleaned up and down for bed, do you want to play some games? Brooks was telling me how you once wrestled him in a game of spoons—”

“I need to go, actually.” Indy stepped back, any trace of the emotion we’d shared gone. Her gaze was empty, her smile forced. “I’m sorry. I wish I’d shown up on time so we could have more time together, but I need to leave.”

“Oh, that’s okay,” Shay told her, doing a better job than I was at hiding my disappointment. “I meant to tell you: your mom taught me how to make her homemade pie crust, but I’m struggling. I know she left town today, but I was wondering if you had time to come over and give me some pointers? We could watch a movie or something—”

Indy choked on a sound, her fingers shaking against her lips. “I’ll let you know.” She grabbed her bag, her gaze on the floor as she made to leave. I expected her to dash outside, but she paused with a hand on the door. “Thank you for having me over, Shay. You have a beautiful family.”

Shay opened her mouth, helpless as Indy slipped outside and closed the door behind her. “Did I do something wrong?”

I shook my head, already walking away. “Thanks for dinner. Leave the mess, and I’ll stop by later to clean it up.”

Before she could reply, I closed the door behind me. I jogged to where Indy had parked her dad’s truck on the side of the road. Finding it empty, I looked to the meadow across from my brother’s house and cursed, realizing where she’d gone.

I ran down the hill that led into the meadow, and through the veil of night, I spotted her. She was sprinting through the long grass, running like her lifedepended on it. And because mine did too, I took off after her, hoping my longer strides would make up for her having a head start.

But Indy surprised me and stopped at the tree line.

I kept running, not stopping until I heard her panting breaths. Lungs burning, I slowed to a walk, grass crunching beneath my boots as I stopped beside her. The moon was high but only a sliver of its light peeked through the clouds, letting me see just the outline of a few trees amid the darkness behind it. The air was cool, a light breeze stirring Indy’s curls as an owl’s call wafted through the night.

Her gaze was determined on the ominous forest ahead of her, her chest rising with heavy breaths. “I was never scared to do this as a kid. I would’ve just run in there without a thought.” Her voice was hushed, so quiet I thought she might’ve been talking to herself. But then she asked, “Will you go with me?”

She hadn’t specified where she wanted to go, but I knew. It was the same place we’d run to as teenagers. About a mile from here there was an aspen tree, similar to the thousands adorning the forest. But this one was unique—it was our hiding spot. I’d stumbled upon it first, at what I’d thought was the lowest point of my life, but then Indy had found it—found me—and turned it into something more.

“I can’t.” She stiffened beside me, probably believing I’d turned her down because I’d outgrown our games, outgrown racing one another through the forest. That wasn’t the case, but I almost wished it was. I hadn’t outgrown anything. I’d destroyed it. “It’s gone.”

She whirled on her heel to face me, and the devastation she wore was a direct blow to my heart. “Why is it gone?”

My chest tightened; the truth caught in my throat. From the agony in her eyes, she knew why. But she needed me to say it. To confirm I’d given up on her. “I cut it down.”

Her bottom lip trembled. “Why?”

“I had to.” Later, I’d give her a better reason. I’d try to explain why I’d believed I had no choice but to cut down the spot where we’d planted our hopes anddreams. Now wasn’t the time for making amends or easing my conscience. Indy was hurting. So much she’d been desperate to run to the past.

Desperate enough to ask me to go with her.

I turned toward her, and with careful fingers, I put my hand on her wrist. Either she was too tired to fight or she needed this as badly as I did, but she didn’t resist when I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her against me.

Relief flowed through me as she melted into my touch, and I leaned down, resting my forehead against the top of her head. I needed her close. Her fingers clutched my waist, gripping my shirt. She wasn’t embracing me for comfort. This was anger and misery. Grief and guilt. Endless emotions were weaving us together. But I held on. Held on like I should’ve years ago.

I didn’t know how long we stood there, but it wasn’t until her breaths had slowed that I leaned back. Clearing her throat, she stepped away, and I let her, respecting her space.

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