Page 76 of The Light We Lost

“I know. We’re not going home yet.”

“We’re not?”

He shook his head, making a popping noise with his lips as he said, “Nope. We’ve still got our date.”

“What?” I twisted in my seat to face him. “What exactly do you think the past hour was?”

He shot me a glance. “You think that was a date?”

“Um—yeah?”

“Let me get this straight. I haven’t been on a date with you in ages, yet you truly thought speed dating at the Hillshire Community Center was my first choice?”

No. When Nolan pulled up to the community center this morning, I should’ve been relieved we were spending our date there. I’d mustered up a smile and had a genuinely good time, but I’d expected more. Hoped for more with him. “Then what the hell was that?”

“Well, since my point didn’t seem to get across the first time, I thought we should give the speed dating another go. That was you and me going on at least ten dates with the people you think we’re missing out on.” He shrugged, adjusting his ball cap. “I don’t know about you, but it confirmed what I already knew. I’m not missing out on anything.”

I scoffed, somehow not surprised. That was not what I’d had in mind when I suggested we date other people, and if his smug grin meant anything, Nolan knew it too. A small part of me was annoyed I’d spent the past hour being heckled by eighty-year-old women staking their claim on him, but most of me was amused.

I didn’t want to be anywhere else, with anyone else.

Shifting in my seat to face the front, I crossed my arms over my chest. “You don’t play fair.”

“Never said I would, Indy. I’m playing to win.”

Nolan wasn’t playing to win.

He was playing to annihilate me.

I’d expected our date to go one of two ways. Either he’d pull out all the stops and try to woo me. Maybe he’d take me to a fancy restaurant, wear a suit and tie. Or he’d play it cool. Probably take me to a baseball game or out dancing. Something safe, familiar.

I should’ve known after the whole speed-dating debacle anything was on the table.

“Okay, class—take a deep breath in and out.” Following the instructor, I sucked in a breath and blew it out, willing the calmness in her voice to seep into me. “Good. Now we’re going to extend into a cobra pose. Feel free to stay in your current position if you have a goat on you.”

I shifted into cobra as giggles drifted through the class. Lying on my front, I tilted my head toward the clear sky, my toes pointed behind me. I lay in a field atop a yoga mat, the sun rays a warm balm against my skin. The women and men surrounding me worked their way into cobra position, and a gentle breeze stirred the smell of grass and soil through the fall air. Heeding the instructor once more, I inhaled a breath, just as something climbed on my back. I froze, nails digging into the thick grass at the edge of my mat.

Relax, it’s a kitten. It’s definitely a kitten and not a goat with hooves of doom stomping on me. Kitten, kitten—

“Look at you, Indy. You’re a natural.” Nolan’s voice came from beside me, and from the corner of my eye I could see he was holding a downward dog position. “Alright. Your turn, little fella,” he crooned to one of the kid goats perched on his back. “Go on, now. She smells real nice. I bet her clothes are delicious—”

“Nolan, please,” I begged in a whisper, heart racing as the one lying on Nolan’s yoga mat shifted. They’d flocked to him since the beginning of class,but instead of hoarding them, he seemed determined to torture me. “Stop trying to sic your friends on me.”

He chuckled as the woman leading the class instructed us to move into child pose. Cautiously, I glanced his way and choked on a laugh. He lay on his stomach, his body curled together with his arms extended behind him. It was a ridiculous sight already with how large he was—but even more so surrounded by goats.

We were only an hour outside Phoenix, so I’d been surprised when Nolan pulled up to a field, expecting him to take us further into the city. Before I could ask what we were doing, more and more people showed up, and soon goats of all sizes were being ushered out of a barn. Next thing I knew, I was doing yoga with goats.

“What did you do, rub yourself in milk before we came?” I asked once another goat approached Nolan.

“Butter.”

I laughed, and one of the women beside me must’ve heard him, because she laughed too. I hadn’t attended yoga before, but I figured—despite the addition of goats—that class would be quiet and focused on finding our zen. I’d barely rolled out a mat before the instructor turned on music—Taylor Swift, bless you—and told us as long as we respected the animals, the only purpose was to have a good time and relax.

Apparently I’d missed the memo.

“Hey, Indy? I think the goat wants to eat your hair.”

I pressed my lips together, resisting the urge to buck the goat off my back. I’d grown up with chickens, even had a milk cow for a time. As a teenager, I would’ve loved this. I should be loving it now. But now that I was in the thick of it, I was a bundle of anxiety and I didn’t know why.

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