Page 103 of The Light We Lost

My face grew even hotter at the soft applause through the crowd. Fifteen-year-old Indy—hell, even a month ago Indy—would’ve beamed beneath Lisa’s kind words. I would’ve basked in the town’s applause and saidSee! I told you I was worth something!But as they clapped, and Lisa and a few of her athletes hugged me, I realized it did nothing for me.

Not because their opinions or appreciation didn’t matter, but because I’d already come to that conclusion on my own. I wasn’t my past. I wasn’t mymistakes. I wasn’t my hard days. I didn’t have to prove myself; I owed no one anything. I was enough for me.

I scanned the bleachers and caught the gaze of my family. Of Shay and Brooks. Of Jake and Levi, who’d surprised us by coming down. And for the first time in my life, I felt at home. It wasn’t a place; it was them.

After Lisa enthusiastically yelledplay ballinto the microphone, we made our way off the field. Spotting Shay waving me down in our matching Team Graham jerseys, I started toward her and Winnie, just as Lisa caught my wrist, stopping me. “Sorry if I embarrassed you.” She gave me a sheepish smile, not looking so sorry after all. “I just wanted to make sure everyone knew it’s because of you the sports program got saved.”

I was about to protest it wasn’t because of me when her words sunk in. “Wait—we hit the goal?”

Her smile widened into a grin. “Enough for two more school years. Hopefully by then the school district will have applied for more grants.” I squealed and pulled her in for a hug. I hadn’t realized how invested in this I was until now. “Didn’t Nolan tell you?”

I stepped back, dropping my arms to my side. “Tell me what?”

She furrowed her brows, surprised. “About his donation.”

I looked to where Nolan was playing first base. I couldn’t hear what he was saying, but I could see his smile as he talked to one of the high school players, likely praising him on the hard line drive he’d just hit into the outfield.

I knew then what he’d done, but my chest burned something fierce when Lisa told me the amount Nolan had donated in his father’s name. It was exactly half of the money his dad had left for him. He’d donated his end of our deal. He’d given up the bar so someone else could have a better chance of achieving theirdreams.

“You can’t tell me what I can or can’t do in your bed.” Auburn plopped down on the mattress in my childhood bedroom, the headboard rattling against the wall. “It’s not even yours anymore.”

I groaned, pressing my forehead to the doorframe. “I’m begging you, please don’t have sex in my room.”

“What about the wall—”

Leo choked on a sound, his eyes wide as he stepped out of the bathroom with my freshly bathed newborn nephew in his arms.

“Did you hear that, babe?” Auburn asked, and I had no doubt it was to get a rise out of her husband. “You’ll have to wear your chastity belt tonight. Meanwhile, Indy’s gonna be going to—”

“I’m going downstairs to talk to your dad . . . or literally anyone else who isn’t you two.” Auburn and I laughed, and I smiled as Leo bent and kissed my sister goodnight, lingering long enough to murmur something in her ear. I couldn’t hear what he said, but her reddened cheeks told me I didn’t want to know. Despite what Auburn seemed to believe, I hoped to never know what they did in the sheets.

Leo patted my shoulder, and I told him goodnight. I didn’t know him well; I’d only met him a handful of times. He was quieter, more reserved than my sister, but he was good to her, and he was a great dad too.

Yawning, I rubbed at my temples, body aching. It was almost midnight, and I was exhausted. The fundraiser had ended at nine, but cleanup had lasted forever, on top of getting Auburn’s two older boys down for bed in her old room. It took me bribing the little hellions with ice cream and brownies to convince them to go to sleep.

“Thank you for coming,” I said as Auburn situated herself on the bed, her newborn, Jude, in her arms. She wouldn’t complain, but I knew it had been no small feat to road-trip to Arizona from Texas. “Best sister ever.”

She made a face, as though to sayduh. “Just means you owe me a visit.”

I didn’t disagree, my gaze lingering on my nephew in her arms. Stomach squirming, before I could back out, I asked, “Can I holdhim?”

Rather than pointing out how I hadn’t wanted to hold his brothers when they were babies, she patted the mattress beside her. Mouth dry, I sat down, and after she showed me how to support his head, I cradled him in my arms. My shoulders were stiff, my heart racing so fast I thought it might wake him. He was almost two weeks old, rolls beginning to form on his wrists and ankles. His hair and eyes were dark, taking after his dad and brothers.

“See? It’s not so scary,” Auburn whispered as he closed his eyes, his lashes lying against his cheeks. “You’re going to be a good mom someday, Indy.”

She rested her head against my shoulder, and I felt the truth of her words down to my bones. It was enough I found myself confiding in her about my loss. I revealed my guilt, the sorrow and helplessness. How alone I’d felt. But I gave her the good too. How Nolan and I planted a tree. I shared with her the name we’d given it, and the peace I found in doing so.

When I finished, I was relieved Auburn didn’t try and make sense of the situation. Didn’t tell meeverything happens for a reason, nor ask why I hadn’t told her sooner. Instead, she grabbed my hand. “I’m sorry you lost your baby.”

I stayed beside her for a while longer, making up for our time apart. When she could barely hold her eyes open, I said goodnight, promising I’d bring Nolan by to meet his nephews tomorrow.

Smiling to myself, I closed the bedroom door and crept down the stairs. Auburn would pull my hair out if I woke her sleeping kids. The lights were off, save for the night light in the living room, illuminating Leo, asleep on the couch. I’d planned on spending the night, but Genny was at Nolan’s. Even if she weren’t, that was where I wanted to be.

I scooped Dad’s keys off the counter, grateful he’d loaned me his truck this month. I’d need to get my own soon. When I stepped onto the front porch, the evening air was brisk enough I might’ve run to the truck—had there not been someone on the porch steps.

Mom’s back was to me, her elbows on her knees, her chin resting in the palm of her hand. “Mama?” I stopped by the railing beside her, the wood creaking beneath my boots. “Is everything okay?”

“Just thinking.” Her gaze was onward, as though she was content to stare at the forest beyond her driveway for the rest of the night. She wasn’t wearing a jacket, and I was thinking about offering to get a blanket when she said, “Today was a good day.”

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