Page 78 of The Light We Lost

But I couldn’t be selfish, this couldn’t be rushed. I started toward Indy’s parents’ house, just as she said, “Would it be alright if we went to your place for bit?”

I rubbed my jaw, fighting off a grin. “Yeah. Do we need to stop by your folks’ and grab Genny?”

Her eyes widened. “Are you asking me to spend the night on our first date?”

“What? No!” I stammered. I’d never once thought that. Although . . . now I was thinking about it. And I liked it. Liked it a whole lot—Dammit,no. Control yourself. You are a grown man. Not a sixteen-year-old boy.“I was not—”

“Relax. I was kidding.” Indy set her hand over mine, her lips twitching with a smile. “If it’s okay with you, you can take me home to Genny in a little bit.” I nodded, nearly giving in and asking her about Genny. Namely when she’d stopped being able to sleep without our cat and why. I had suspicions, but I’d rather Indy open up to me willingly and not because I pried.

We pulled up to my house, and I shelved my curiosity for later, eager to get inside. But Indy lingered in the cab, and I gathered she was second-guessing herself. Instead of asking me to take her home, she said, “Your flower beds are sad.”

“My flower beds . . .” I followed her gaze to where, sure enough, my flower beds were . . . nothing but a tangle of weeds. “Honestly, I forgot those existed until this very second. You’re welcome to plant something if you’d like—they do look kind of sad.”

“Really? I’ve only done my parents’ garden. And I haven’t done it in years, so I might not be good—”

“Indy Tyler.” I grabbed her hand on the center console, giving it a good squeeze. “Would you please do me the honor of planting me a flower bed? Even better than the one at your parents’.”

“You really want one?” she asked, and when I told her I did, the surprise and joy in her eyes was enough I wished I’d offered her a dozen flower beds from the get-go. “Okay, yes. I’ll have to do some research, see what plants do best in this environment, and then you can tell me what you want. And I’ll go through my parents’ gardening tools tomorrow—”

“I’ve got some tools in the back shed. Why don’t we go through them right now?” I offered, clinging to the excitement bursting through her. “You don’t need to run it by me, I trust your judgment. And I’m paying for everything.” She opened her mouth, surely about to protest, so I added, “Please, Indy? You’re doing me a favor by fixing them up. The least I can do is foot the bill.”

She bit her lip, falling quiet. “You promise you’ll take care of them? I don’t want to do this if they’re just going to die.”

Shame raced through me as I thought of her parents’ garden, how it would’ve felt for her to come home and find it unattended, forgotten. “I promise.” She scanned me, as though searching for hesitation. A deep sense of pride burned through me when she nodded, silently trusting me.

I’d keep her trust.

I unlocked the gate to the backyard and led her to my work shed. Flipping on the lights, I headed to the back corner where I stored my tools. After we’d deep cleaned the shed, I wasn’t sure what we’d kept or donated, but I hoped I had at least one thing she could use. “What do you think about this?” I grabbed a tool off the back shelf, assuming it to be a tiller. “Indy?”

She only hummed, and I turned to face her, realizing she was distracted. I’d been so caught up and excited for Indy, it hadn’t occurred to me I was bringing her into my workspace.

She stood behind my chair, as though keeping her distance as she stared at the half-finished project sitting on my worktable. It was a coffee table I was making for a couple in Hillshire. A coffee table didn’t usually give me trouble, but they’d wanted the legs to resemble tree trunks, and it had taken me time. Thankfully, I’d finished it last night, and all I had left to do was stain the wood.

“Why don’t you come look at these?” I tried, not because I didn’t want to share this with her, but I’d rather her see it when it was finished, as perfect as it could be. “Pretty sure I saw some pruners—”

“I just can’t believe it.”

I cleared my throat, and I wished she would turn and face me, if only so I could understand her disbelief. “What do you mean?”

“Please don’t take this the wrong way, but you were always the athlete in the family. Levi’s the artist. But here you are, creating art. I had no idea you were capable—or even interested—in doing something like this.” She twisted on her heel to face me, beaming. If I let myself think about it long enough, I almost believed she was proud of me. “I guess I’m wondering what made you start in the first place?”

I rubbed the back of my neck, uncomfortable. I knew I had no reason to be. Next to Dad, Indy had always been my greatest support, on and off the baseball field. But I’d played because I loved it, and by chance I happened to be good at it. But this . . . this was deeper than passion or skill.

Indy must’ve seen I was about to cop out, as she gave me a teasing smile. “I thought you were done holding back, Nolan?”

I let out a low laugh, wanting nothing more than to kiss that smirk off her lips. She was challenging me, daring me. And as uncomfortable as I might be, I refused to let her win. “When I officially quit drinking, everything I’d been avoiding hit me straight on. I had to face a lot of shit, and my therapist told me if I didn’t find an outlet, I might turn back to drinking.” I toed my boot against the concrete floor. “Before Dad died . . . he told me something. Told me my life wasn’t over. I could make something out of what I’d lost.”

It didn’t matter how many times I fell, how many times he had to drag me to my feet. Dad had always believed in me. Continuing on, I said, “He’d already passed when I started therapy, but I decided to take Dad’s words literally and picked up woodworking. I started with box building. Thought it would be easy, but it was harder than I anticipated. I was clueless. But I kept going, kept learning. As time went on, I found myself looking forward to it. I’d watch tutorials at the shop, learning what I could. And then I’d spend all night in my shed, practicing. When I finally finished, I was so excited—I’d never really made anything with my bare hands. But when I got a real good look at it, I realized I’d made the ugliest thing I’d ever seen. I swore I was done.”

I cracked a laugh, remembering my shocked disappointment. I’d been working so hard, I’d somehow fooled myself into believing I was the nextPaul Sellers—when I’d barely managed to scrape together a box. It was crooked and warped. The lid didn’t even fit.

Indy smiled at me from across the room, a quiet fondness to her voice. “But you didn’t quit.”

I shook my head, my heart burning. “Every morning, I swore I was done. But every night when I got home, I’d come out here and try again. The more I saw that box, the more I saw the energy and time I’d put into it. It was the most I’dcared about anything in years. And then I finally understood what Dad meant. Without meaning to, I’d taken my pain, my grief, and I’d shaped it. Now when I see it, all I think of is him. And it doesn’t hurt. Just reminds me how much he loved me. How much he believed in me.”

I shoved my hands in my pockets, not sure what to expect. It was the second time I’d admitted to her I was in therapy. I’d gotten to the point where I didn’t go often, just every few months to check in and adjust my medication if necessary. As a kid, I’d never had to question myself around Indy. I didn’t have to hide from her. But it had been a long time since I’d felt that way. Since I’d been that vulnerable and open with someone outside my therapist and brothers.

But I knew as sure as the day Indy stumbled upon me in the forest all those years ago, I’d put my trust in the right person. She smiled at me, blinking fast as she fought the brewing emotion in her eyes. She wasn’t watching me with sadness, or even pity. She was looking at me like I’d painted the whole sky, strung the stars and the moon.

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