Page 44 of The Light We Lost

“When have I ever won anything?” This conversation was no longer about Calder. It had never been about him at all. “No matter what I do, I never win! Every day is a loss—I’ll never be able to change the past. I can’t give you your dreams back, and I can’t save you! My only hope is somehow landing this job, so I can maybe give someone a chance—”

“Wait.” Nolan narrowed his gaze, his tone hard. “What do you mean, land this job?”

I rolled my eyes. Of course, out of everything I’d said,thatwould stand out to him. “You want me to let you in? Fine. I’m not an agent—the only thing I’ve ever been is a glorified assistant. I’m twenty-seven years old, I’m unemployed, and the only sure thing in my life right now is my student loans.” I gritted my teeth, hating that it wasn’t judgment or anger in his eyes. It was concern. “I have no idea where my life is going, but you know what terrifies me the most? It’s not getting this job or being alone. It’s that redemption might not be possible for me and I’m going to feel like this forever.”

“Redemption? What the hell do you need redemption for?”

How could he ask me that? How dare he look at me like he couldn’t see my stained and broken soul. As though he hadn’t been there when I destroyed something pure and innocent.

“Why do you think I went into this career?” I cried. To hell with boundaries and secrets. “My life has always revolved around you—always! But it wasn’t enough.Iwasn’t enough. And I made you lose everything! I just want to make it right. I want to prove to myself, and to that whole damn town, that I can be different. That I can give someone what I failed to give you.”

Chapter Twenty

Nolan—Then

Istirred awake, draped in the remnants of wild desperation and bad decisions. My head throbbed, and I cursed at the sunlight streaming through the curtains. Blindly, I patted the cold mattress beside me, searching for those wild curls that made it worth getting up in the morning.

“Indy?” I sat up in a rush, groaning as the room seemed to spin. I shouldn’t have drunk last night when I’d come home after my debut game, but my thoughts were suffocating me, and alcohol was my only immediate relief. Scanning the room, I saw no proof of the mess I’d left. My textbooks were stacked neatly on the kitchen table, the empty beer bottles and pizza boxes gone.

Indy was gone too.

I could only remember glimpses of last night after she’d come home, but I was aware how I’d treated her at the ball field. When she’d come to me out of concern and I’d shut her down. “Drop it,”I’d told her. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Let me worry about baseball.” How many times had I listened to the folks back home gripe to Indy about what she should or shouldn’t be doing? And yet, I’d screwed up and done the same. I couldn’t treat her that way. She deserved more, more than me. I was already riding on stolen time with her, and I’d be a fool to push her away.

Ignoring the roiling in my stomach, I scrambled to my feet, grasping for my phone. “Come on, peaches.” I rubbed my chest, my heart pounding faster with each ring until she finally answered. “Indy?” My voice was frantic, breath thick with the stench of beer. “Where are you? I woke up and you were gone. You’re never gone, you’re always there—”

“Take a breath, Nolan.” Her voice was soothing, and I felt a stab of shame she had to speak that way to me in the first place. Only after I’d forced a deep breath in and out did she say, “I needed to grab a few things this morning. I left you a note on the table, but I’m guessing you might’ve missed it.”

I glanced at the table, and sure enough, there was a letter from her, assuring me she’d be home soon. And right beside it were my class assignments... completed by Indy. “I’m sorry, I panicked.”

“You’re okay,” she assured me, and I hated how I soaked up her kindness. I should be a better man, a stronger one. Not one who needed his wife to pick him up again and again. “Why don’t you get in the shower? By the time you’re done, I’ll be home. I picked you up a few things, including a grilled cheese from that sandwich shop you love.”

I rubbed my jaw, my voice a jagged whisper. “I don’t deserve you.”

“You do.”

After I thanked her and hung up, I made my way to the bathroom. I stripped off my boxers, only now realizing I wasn’t in my uniform. Because Indy had taken care of me—she was always taking care of me. She hated waitressing, but she did it every day—all so I could chase this impossible dream. She was giving me everything. How long until she realized she was wasting her time on a man with a broken mind?

I turned the shower on, one foot in when I saw a forgotten beer bottle across the apartment. It lay on the floor beneath the wildflowers Indy painted on the wall months ago. Shower forgotten, I grabbed the bottle, feeling like it was tainting the bright and beautiful colors. Bright and beautiful like Indy. And as I held the half-empty bottle, I realized it was like me.

Poison.

I didn’t like drinking. It wasn’t fun, nor something I craved. The only reason I’d tasted alcohol when I was just shy of sixteen—and a few times since—was for the same reason I’d sought it out last night. It numbed me. Temporarily gave me a break and quieted the unforgiving darkness within. I could forget who I was.

Except I hated drinking almost as much as I despised the shell of a man I’d become.

But . . . if I could find some sort of middle ground. An in-between of who I was drunk and who I was sober. Maybe then I could better stand on my feet. If I could do that, I could give Indy everything she deserved. She’d never have a reason to leave.

Hopeless, I raised the bottle to my lips and drank.

Chapter Twenty-One

Nolan—Now

Imade you lose everything.

Those words haunted me, rang through my mind with memories of the past as I paced the hallway outside Indy’s apartment, wishing I hadn’t panicked and left. I’d regretted it as soon as I closed her door behind me, but before I could fix my mistake, the door was locked and Indy was on the other side. If I’d been wiser, I wouldn’t have left at all. But when Indy admitted she’d taken on the sins of my past like some sort of martyr, I hadn’t known what to do. So I’d taken off.

It wasn’t until I was out the door that I remembered my silence had hurt Indy more than my words ever had.

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