Page 60 of The Light We Lost

Unable to help myself, I glanced Indy’s way. She sat on the forest floor, her back propped against a tree—where she’d been when I’d let myself look ten minutes ago. We’d been here since yesterday evening, and we’d barely talked. She’d dedicated most of her morning to preparing for the fundraiser, even walking to find service so she could call a few locals and see if they were interested in running a booth. I thought she might work our entire camping trip, but she’d sat down an hour ago, seemingly in no hurry to get up. She was weaving grass between her fingers, Genny asleep between her legs. Every now and then, I’d catch her smiling to herself, enough I was curious to see what she was making, but I didn’t let myself get up and find out.

I shook my head, clearing my thoughts. “That’s not what this is—I’m not trying to win her back.” Indy wasn’t a prize to be won, and not one I deserved.

He snorted. “Is that right? Well, then why’d you bring her here if you’re not going to spend time with her?”

Because I wanted her close. I was selfish. I needed to know she hadn’t left me, at least not yet. But when I was feeling like this, when it was a battle to keep myhead clear . . . I didn’t want to drag Indy into that. I’d already taken too much from her, and I’d be damned if I let myself hurt her the way I had before.

Because Jake was Jake, and he’d seen me at my lowest, I wasn’t entirely surprised he seemed to know where my thoughts lay. “It’s not contagious, Nolan.”

I shook my head—I wasn’t in the right headspace to have this conversation. I started gathering my things to leave, then stopped when he said, “You’ve had people walk away from you. First your mom and then Indy. I know you think I’m clueless, but I can assure you, neither of them left because of you.” My throat tightened with unease, but I didn’t walk away. Jake was the closest thing I had to a father figure, and sometimes . . . shit, sometimes I needed my dad. “One of those women you begged for years to come home. It took her breaking your heart several times before you wised up and realized you were better off. But the other one? She’s sitting right there, all by her own free choice, and you’ve never once asked her to come home. The only thing stopping you from being with her is you.”

My throat swelled as I remembered the last time I’d asked Mom to come home. It was after Dad passed. I hadn’t seen her since I was seven, and I was shocked, to say the least, when she’d called to check in. I’d considered for years all the things I’d say, how I’d demand to know why we weren’t enough for her. But those thoughts vanished once I heard Mom’s voice. She’d caught me at a weak point, and I was so desperate I didn’t realize she was using me until it was too late. Until my brothers and I stood on her porch in California, our wallets empty and hearts aching as she looked us in the eye and told us she didn’t want to see us again.

I should’ve learned by then: clutching to someone who clearly wants to be gone doesn’t stop them from leaving. It just suffocates them.

I didn’t respond and Jake didn’t push—there was no need. I knew the truth. I hadn’t ever asked Indy to come home. Instead, I’d pushed her away. Even after I promised her it wouldn’t end this way, I’d asked for a divorce. I told myself I’d done it out of selflessness. Indy deserved more than what I or Wallowpine could offer her. I believed that wholeheartedly, but I knew deep inside it was more than that.

I was afraid.

And I was a liar.

A liar because I’d promised Indy I wouldn’t hold back. Except I was holding myself back from the one thing I wanted most of all. Her. Hell, I wanted her bad. She was the only addiction I couldn’t quite kick. The more I denied myself, the stronger my need became.

I couldn’t have her—I’d accepted that years ago. But maybe . . . maybe I could have a little taste. Enough to take the edge off without any real damage being done.

Waiting until Jake had gone inside his camper to take a nap, I walked to where Indy sat beneath the tree. Pine needles crunched beneath my boots, and she looked up. She wore loose jeans and a blue button-down that was knotted together below her breasts, giving me a peek of her creamy skin. There was a bandana in her hair, her curls falling over her shoulders. She was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.

“You mind if I sit with you?”

She shook her head, and deciding I should pace myself, I sat by the tree across from hers. I stretched my legs out, my boots beside her bare feet. She looked at me curiously before returning to what looked to be the makings of a bracelet in her hands. Her headphones lay on the ground beside her.

I waited for her to slip them in and block me out, but she didn’t. Wanting to let her in, I reached into my pocket and pulled out my knife and wood block. I had a few designs in mind, but I hadn’t settled on what I was whittling yet.

Indy’s foot nudged mine, and I looked up to find her watching me, her eyes wide. A lot of questions must have been running through that pretty head of hers, but rather than demanding to know why I hadn’t told her about my carving, or if I’d known her dad would give her that star, she simply nodded.

And as I watched her braid grass with her fingers, saw the carefree smile on her lips as she tucked a wildflower into Genny’s collar, I wondered if Indy would’ve let me so easily into her space had she heard my thoughts. If she knew how close I was to giving in to temptation and reclaiming her asmine.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Indy—Now

“You’re looking a little red,” Jake stated from his side of the canoe, his attention on the line he’d cast in the water. “Want me to take you back in? I’m sure Nolan wouldn’t mind the company.”

“I’m good.” Feeling a tug on my rod, I reeled my line in. I rolled my eyes at the clump of seaweed and snatched it off the hook, tossing it back in the lake. “I’m having a good time out here.” I wasn’t.

It had nothing to do with Jake, or even that my pasty skin was on the brink of being entirely roasted in a matter of a few minutes. I hated fishing. Always had, always would. I wasn’t patient. I liked results, and I liked them fast. And fishing? You could cover me in molasses and force me to run the Boston Marathon and I’d finish before I ever caught a fish.

But I was trying new things. Had to see if something sparked an interest in me.

Jake chuckled under his breath. “I’ve never seen you sit still for so long.”

I smiled to myself, grateful he hadn’t said it like it was a bad thing. “That’s not true. What about that time Jules and I scared you as kids? We hid under your bed for hours before you and Wren came in—”

“I knew you two were there the whole time. Heard you giggling and squirming for the better part of an hour,” he said, probably thinking of all the times hisdaughter and I had tried scaring them as kids. “Not sure I’ve ever seen Wren as mad as she was when you two grabbed her ankles. ’Bout scared her out of her own skin.”

“She always said we were trouble.”

“And she loved it.” His voice had gone quiet.

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