Page 86 of The Light We Lost

He choked on a sound, bringing his truck to a stop. “Did it ever occur to you thatyou’rewhat I want?” He watched me silently, but he wasn’t waiting for a response. He was ensuring I heard him loud and clear. When he continued, his voice was soft, so soft. “From the beginning, you were all I ever wanted. It wasn’t baseball, school, or anyone in this town that found me when I was lost. It was you. You led me out of that darkness, and ever since I’ve only wanted you. Everything else was just a bonus.”

He reached across the cab, slipping his hand into mine And I thought of that moment all those years ago, when he’d gone missing and the town sent out search parties to find him. Had he felt as hopeless, as afraid, as I did now?

Nolan

I hesitated with a hand on the doorknob, unable to open the door. I leaned against it, feeling like it was constructed of all my failures and mistakes, blocking me from what was behind it.

My wife.

When she’d miscarried all those years ago, it felt like the ground had been torn out from beneath us. Indy was quieter than she’d ever been, and as the days passed, she slipped inside of herself more and more. She didn’t want to talk about it, she’d told me. Even begged me to keep it between us. I was tangled in my own grief, though greatly aware of how different it was from the physical and mental toll she was enduring. I hadn’t known what to do—all I knew was I didn’t want to say the wrong thing and hurt her more.

So I’d stayed silent. I might’ve stood beside her, but I didn’t step into her pain, and I didn’t invite her into mine. I didn’t realize I’d made the wrong choice until there was so much empty space between us we couldn’t find each other again.

But as I thought of Indy, I realized how she had stepped into my grief. She hadn’t lost a parent, yet she never hesitated to bring up my dad. She kept his memory alive, celebrated his life.

I wanted to give her the same.

I opened the door, the faint glow of the hall light letting me see into my bedroom. Indy lay on the bed, her back to me. Despite the situation, I smiled at the sight of Genny curled up in the crevice of her knees. It was then I realized why Indy clung to our cat. Why she’d forced herself through school and into a career she didn’t love, determined to fulfill someone’s hopes of playing professional baseball.

It was all she had left of our dreams.

Leaving my clothes on, I kicked off my boots before I switched off the hall light and climbed onto the bed beside her. Her breaths were relaxed, and I lay on my back as I tried to balance my thoughts. Indy had revealed so much to me, given me her pain. There were many things I wanted to say to her. So much that deserved to be acknowledged.

Most of all, I wanted her to know she wasn’t alone.

“Maybe it’s because I grew up in a house full of boys . . . but I always imagined we would’ve had a son.” I thought she might’ve stirred, but I continued, “He has curly red hair, and he’s got his momma’s smile. Warm and inviting, with just a dash of trouble. He plays baseball, of course. Learned it from his old man. Except sometimes I imagine him telling me he doesn’t want to play, and I’m okay with that. We encourage him to be happy. Tell him we’ll always love him. Don’t get me wrong, he’s a little shit too. How could he not be when he’s got us as parents? He definitely throws watermelons at stop signs—”

Indy choked on a noise, something between a giggle and a cry. I opened my mouth to tell her more, just as she said, “He has curly blond hair—not red. And sometimes when I’m feeling extra wild, I’ll give him one blue eye and one brown eye. I like the idea of him having a mix of the both of us.”

“You are wild.” I smirked, quiet amusement in my voice. “I think he should be tall though. Unless you want to keep your perfect mix of us and give him one short leg and one extra-long one—”

Indy laughed. I was grateful to hear the sound, but it was short-lived. She sucked in a breath, the sound choppy. Feeling her shift beside me, I rolled onto my side, never so happy to meet her in the middle.

Wrapping my arms around her, I pulled her into me as she clutched the front of my shirt, her forehead against my chest. Her cries were silent. The only sign she was crumbling at all was her trembling back, the warmth of her tears seeping through my clothes. Something soft brushed against the back of my hand, and I realized it was Genny, likely disgruntled we’d woken her. But she lay against Indy’s back, silently comforting her like she had all the years I was gone.

But I’m here now.

And I’m holding on.

Chapter Forty-Two

Indy—Now

Gray morning light seeped through the window blinds, the day only just begun. It was ready and waiting, full of endless possibilities. Fresh beginnings.

I pressed deeper into the bed, leaning into the strong arms looped around me. My neck ached, and I was sure if I stood, I’d feel the repercussions of not using a pillow and sleeping in one position too long. But I didn’t care.

I wanted to stay in this awhile longer.

“Just admit you’re wrong.Footlooseis not a better movie thanDirty Dancing.”

Nolan groaned, dropping his head back on the pillow. “How can you say that? How can you betray Kevin Bacon like that?”

“I’m not,” I told him, not knowing how we’d gotten here. Nolan had woken up saying he wanted bacon, thus leading us to a fifteen-minute debate. “I likeFootloose, I really do. ButDirty Dancinghas better dances, and I love the storyline. And I’m sorry, but Patrick Swayze wins every time.”

I pressed my lips together, hiding my smile as he stared at me like he didn’t know me. “Really? Come on, it’s so cheesy. I mean, at the very end, when Johnnysays, ‘Nobody—’”

“Don’t you dare.” I put my hand over his mouth, stopping him. “Unless you want to break my heart, you will not hate on what is possibly one of my favorite lines in cinematic history.”

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