Page 56 of The Light We Lost

“My mom told me I could go home. They don’t need my help with the diner.”

My stomach dropped, but I did my best not to let it show. “That’s a good thing, right?”

Eyes watery, she gave me a shaky smile I knew she didn’t feel. “Except I don’t know where to go.”

I watched her, heart pounding as I failed to stop the hope from flickering alive within me. Everything in me screamed to ask her to stay. To beg her not to go. But I didn’t. This wasn’t about me.

“My mom doesn’t want me near you.”

I raised my brows, surprised by the hurt that inflicted. I was closer with her dad than her mom, but we’d always been friendly, even after Indy and I went our separate ways. “That makes sense,” I tried. “I broke your heart.”

She laughed, the sound cold and choppy. “No, Nolan. She doesn’t wantmenear you.” She shook her head, defeated bitterness in her tone. “Apparently, it was difficult for her to watch you struggle to pick yourself up after I left you, and she doesn’t want to see that again. Figures it’s best I leave town before I make you lose more than I already did.”

I clenched my jaw, any self-pity I had shifting into anger. Anger for Indy and that, yet again, someone felt it was fair to place my failures on her.

Before I could tell her just how wrong her mother was, she said, “For years, I’ve made choices, lived a certain life, because I thought it would make my mom proud.” Her eyes were exhausted, dark. “But it’s not working. I’m miserable... and I’m angry. I’ve wasted so many years trying to prove myself and make everyone see me in a different light. But no matter what I do, it’s never going to be enough. What am I supposed to do with that? And I know it’s not your fault, but I’m so tired of everyone telling me what you lost. I know what you lost, and I regret it every day. But what about me? What about whatwelost?” Her voice broke, her hands shaking at her sides. “Maybe it can’t be seen or felt, but I lost a piece of myself, and I’m afraid I’m never going to get it back. And if that’s the case, what’s the point of all this? Why am I trying?” I watched her, watched as the woman I knew was capable of conquering the world struggle to hold herself together. It was the closest I’d ever seen Indy to breaking. That wasn’t because her heart was made of stone—it was because she didn’t let anyone see that side of her.

Was it because she’d never had anyone to break with?

A prideful part of me started to protest, but I beat it down. It didn’t matter if I thought I’d been that for Indy before. If she hadn’t felt like I was there for her—that was on me. Maybe I’d assumed too much, thought she’d understood how much she meant to me and left too many things unsaid.

Loosely, I put my hand on her wrist. “What you lost, what we lost . . . nothing you do will ever bring it back. It’s not coming back, and I’m sorry for that.”

Indy choked on a breath, the sound mixed with a cry. “But I want it. I’d do anything for one more chance.”

I knew she would. I felt the same desperation.

I’d felt it as a child when Mom left and moved to California, abandoning her family to pursue the life she thought she was missing. Felt it when I lost my chance at a dream career, one I’d put years of sweat into. But I’d accepted those losses. I’d moved on.

It was harder to accept the ones that gutted you. The ones where you bargained and pleaded for one more chance. I’d give anything to bring Dad back. Tell him I loved him one more time and prove I could’ve become a better man without him dying.

Most of all, I’d give everything to bring back what Indy lost.

I shifted my hold, molding her hand to mine as I carefully considered my words. I wanted to push for more. To delve deeper into the moment we’d shared inside with my niece in my arms, tell her how the grief I saw in her eyes looked similar to my own. But if Indy couldn’t even put a name to our loss, she wasn’t ready to confront it. “But maybe you could find something new. Not to replace it . . . but something for you to hold on to.”

She peered up at me with such emotion, and I savored the fact she was letting me see her this way. “I don’t even know where to start. I’m so off track from where I wanted to be.”

“You could stay here.”

I regretted it the moment I said it, solely because it was clear Indy didn’t want that. “I can’t live here.” Her hand slipped out of mine. “I’ve built a future for myself in New York. Even if I don’t get the job, I can’t start over. I’m too old, I’ve wasted too much time. And you and I . . . we’re getting divorced. You don’t want your ex-wife hanging around.”

“You’re killing me, Indy.” I grabbed her hands and brought them to my chest, giving them a little shake. “We could sign those divorce papers today and I would still want you here. And just so we’re clear, you don’t need anyone’s permission to take up space. Take up the whole damn world. It’s yours.”

Take up my space. Take up my world.

She looked at me with wide eyes as I said, “Listen, if you don’t want to live here, that’s fine. But if I’m being honest, it’s obvious you have no idea what you want. Ah—” I lifted my finger to her lips, stopping her. “There’s no sense in lying to yourself. You went into a career based on the belief it could give you the redemption you don’t need.”

Her throat bobbed, and I could see she was struggling to believe that I didn’t blame her for the past. But that was okay. Before this was over, I’d ensure Indyunderstood how much she’d given me. “I’m good at my job,” she murmured half-heartedly. “Or at least I will be.”

I didn’t doubt it. “Yeah, but will it make you happy?”

She bit her lip. She didn’t need to answer. “Did you have something in mind?”

My mouth dried, my heart rate spiking. Did I have something in mind? There was a lot on my mind. Like that there were still potatoes in Indy’s hair, and I’d probably fall to my knees for a chance to run my fingers through her silky curls. But I couldn’t tell her that—couldn’t tell her a lot—without making her run in the other direction.

The thought of her leaving early gutted me, but if it was what she needed, I wanted her to have it. “Have you thought about going to your sister’s? You’d get more time with your parents then—”

“Oh, no. I can’t . . . It’s better that I don’t.” She trailed off, as though that was explanation enough as to why she’d rather hang out in a shitty town than be with her family. Before I could ask her more, she said, “Um . . . I haven’t told you this, but I’m running an event with Lisa—the agency is helping too. It’s to help raise money for the school’s sports program, so even if I don’t work at the diner, I sort of need to be here. Plus, you and I have our deal.” She gave me a wobbly smile. “We gotta do what your dad asked to get that money for the bar.”

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