Page 9 of The Light We Lost

Shifting on my feet, I turned, not recognizing the woman leaning against the wall. “I feel like it.” It was the most honest I’d been all night.

“That’s a shame.” She bit her lip, but there was nothing shy about the way she looked me up and down. “I was watching you earlier. Thought you looked like a good time.” She shrugged. “Guess I was wrong.”

She didn’t know me, but I bristled at the way her words settled in me. Maybe it was because of Charlie and Sam jesting me, how I could feel them watching me from across the bar. Or maybe it was the pathetic truth—that I was desperate to feel anything. Whatever it was, I found myself saying, “Honey, I can be dead or alive and still show you a good time.”

The words tasted wrong, and I wanted to take them back, but she raised her brows, a slight curve to her lips. I waited for my heart to pound, for the thrill of the chase to race through me. Somewhere in the back of my mind it occurred to me I hadn’t even checked her out, but that was damn near impossible. Especially when the front door swung open and a sweet piece of haunted past walked in.

Her hair was fiery red, but any signs of her wild curls were slicked back into a bun. She wore a pantsuit, hiding her long legs and the freckles I knew paintedevery inch of her creamy skin. She scanned the room, and if she spotted anyone she knew, she gave no sign. Based on the way no one ran screaming in the other direction or tossed a beer, I imagined they hadn’t recognized her.

But no matter how different she looked, when she zeroed in on me, I knew that damn fire in her brown eyes.

Indy Tyler.

I stared at her, not hearing a word of what the woman beside me said as Indy approached, crossing her arms over her chest. “We need to talk.”

And because I was a miserable bastard, I said, “Gimme a second.”

“Now.” Heat rose on her cheeks, and by the way she fidgeted in her heels, I was surprised she didn’t drag me outside. But maybe I shouldn’t have been surprised. Indy was a stranger to me. “I need to talk to you right now.”

“He’s busy,” the woman beside me said, reminding me she was there. Indy’s lip twitched, but if she was uncomfortable when the woman slipped a finger in my belt loop, she didn’t let it show. “I’ll send him to find you when he and I are done.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were in the middle of something.” Indy’s voice was laced with sweetness, so much I was lured into believing it was true. But then her tone turned deliciously sour. “I’ll wait at the bar. Just let me know when you’re done with my husband.”

“What?” the woman choked, and I stepped back, feeling like I’d been dosed in gasoline and set on fire. It was the most alive I’d felt in years. “We didn’t—I swear I didn’t know he was married.”

Neither did I.

But I didn’t voice that. Not when all I could do was stare at the addiction I could never shake, the one who haunted me morning and night, as she said, “We’re still married, you jackass.”

Chapter Four

Indy—Then

“Faster, Nolan. Faster.”

He gave me a look like I was crazy, his skin hot and slick as he tipped me back, my hair brushing the hardwood floor. His hand gripped the front of my shorts, tugging me up. My boots had barely touched the ground before he was spinning me, his hand never losing mine. “She Won’t Be Lonely Long” by Clay Walker played through the bar, and I faintly registered the waves of bodies surrounding us as Nolan lifted me off the floor. My body putty beneath his hands, I looped my arms over his shoulders as he held me up, guiding my legs to one side of his body and then the other. I briefly straddled his waist before he used our momentum to lift me in a candlestick lift. Elbows bent, I braced my head against his shoulder, my legs toward the ceiling and in a figure four.

He made me feel like I could fly.

My hair a curtain around our faces, we shared a breathless laugh as we held the lift long enough for the song to end. After he’d lowered me to the floor, we ran off hand in hand to let the next couple dance. “We’re definitely winning,” I said after both of us had gotten a drink of water. “Only way we don’t is because they rigged it.”

Nolan chuckled behind me, pressing his chest against my back. His chin rested atop my head, his fingers tucked in the front pocket of my shorts. “I don’t know about that. I think your legs might’ve looked a little sloppy during that last lift.”

I gasped, twisting in his hold to face him. “They did not! I can’t believe you’d say something like that to me—”

He laughed, pulling me against his sweaty chest despite my efforts to leave. “You were hot as sin up there, peaches.” His voice was a low murmur. “We should win for that alone.”

I cocked a brow. “Hot as sin, huh? How sinful are you thinking—”

He squeezed my hips, the tips of his fingers catching the fringe on my crop top. “You’re trouble, you know that?”

I gave him an innocent smile, hearing the affection in his voice. I left a kiss on his jaw before I spun in his hold, wanting to watch the couple dancing. Once a year, Heath, the owner of Ye Olde Trusty Tavern, shut off his beer taps and opened his doors to host a country swing dance competition. I had no idea if it was legal, nor did I care. I assumed that since more than half the town was here—including our one and only preacher—no one cared enough to stop a good time.

I wasn’t a natural-born dancer. It was a hobby, one I’d hung onto and somehow managed to drag Nolan into. Mom said I should focus on something I could make a real career out of, but I didn’t care. I loved it. Cherished how it felt to slip away from the world. How well my frame molded with Nolan’s. I trusted him with my body more than I did myself. It didn’t matter if we were doing a simple two-step or if I was being tossed in the air; we became something different. Something worth more than gold.

This was our third time competing, and if the cheers after we’d completed our dance were indication enough, we’d walk away with our third first-place trophy.

It would be the perfect way for us to say goodbye to Wallowpine.

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