Page 88 of The Light We Lost

The corner of his mouth lifted, his words dusting my lips. “Careful, Indy. Those are fighting words.”

I smiled with him, realizing Nolan was right. I could feel more than one emotion at a time. There was sorrow in my heart, painful yet bittersweet. But there was something else too. Something I’d denied myself for a long time.

My heart was racing, my voice breathless. “Find me.”

Chapter Forty-Three

Indy—Now

Icovered my mouth, slowing my breaths as I hid in the corner of the shed, keeping an eye on the door. I hadn’t known what Nolan would do, if he’d want to play hide-and-seek. Some things were better left behind. We were both nearing thirty, far too old for childish games. But he’d rolled onto his stomach and begun to count without an ounce of hesitation, giving me no chance to plan.

I’d run out of his room, heart racing, as he counted to forty. After closing every door on the first floor and stomping on the stairs, I slipped outside. I hoped Nolan wouldn’t think to look outside with the ground being wet from last night’s downpour. After ten minutes of silence, I assumed I’d been right.

Figuring I had only a few minutes before he discovered I wasn’t in the house, I turned on the light to get a better look at his shop. I hadn’t been here since the night he shared with me how woodworking helped him sort through his grief. When he’d set a smoldering flame in me and gotten me to admit I wanted more.

My heart burned, still feeling a flicker of that passion as I wandered through, admiring his unfinished projects. Curious to see what was hidden beneath a tarp, I lifted it, but I only got a glimpse of white wood before the door began to grind open.

Stomach stirring with excitement, I ran to the nearest corner of the shed. A laugh bubbled past my lips, and I smothered it with my hand as Nolan stepped into the room. His hands were loose, his steps slow and leaving a trail of mud. I glanced at my shoes, and when I saw the globs of mud on them, I knew I was caught.

I inched along the wall toward the entrance, keeping an eye on him as he searched the shelves, likely believing I’d crawled onto one. His back was to me, victory so close I could taste it. But then he turned, and his slow, devilish grin told me he’d known I was there the whole time.

Refusing to lose, I ran out the door in search of my next hiding spot. But it was in vain, as I got only halfway across the backyard before his steps were hot on my heels. His hands snagged my waist, and I screamed, laughing as he brought me to the ground, using his body to absorb the fall.

“Really?” His arms banded around mine, holding me there as I scrambled on my side. “You still cheat?”

Slipping an arm free, I grabbed a handful of mud before reaching back for him, blindly smearing it. “I did not cheat!”

“What do you call pouring popcorn kernels all over my floor? I damn near broke my neck—”

I laughed hard, wishing I’d stayed inside to see that. “I didn’t—” I gasped, shocked as Nolan stuck a hand in my hair, mud and all. “You asshole. Don’t ever ask to touch my hair again. I just washed it—”

He laughed and I did too, screaming when he grabbed the hose and held it over me, offering to wash my hair. After endless pleas and a few swift maneuvers, I managed my way on top of him.

I sat on him, my hands against his shoulders. “I win.”

He raised a brow, bringing one arm to rest beneath his head. “You sure? Feels like I did.”

Rolling my eyes, I grabbed the hose. “You’re filthy,” I teased, making a show of looking him over. I’d done a number on him. The front of his shirt was smeared in mud, his arms coated. I could only imagine what I looked like. “Youshould really clean yourself off before you go inside—unless you want all those popcorn kernels to stick to you.”

He squeezed my hip. “What about you?” he asked, and it took great effort not to squirm beneath his gaze. “What if I don’t want you to track mud all over the house?”

I lifted my shoulders in a shrug, helpless. “Guess I’ll stay outside.”

“I’d rather you come inside and pick up the mess you made.”

I hummed. “That’s fair.”

“But I think I should be hosed off too, don’t you?” His voice was low and smooth, his fingers toying with the hem of my shirt. “I wouldn’t want to make a bigger mess.”

My breaths quickened. I didn’t know what I was doing, but I wanted it. I wanted to feel something, wrap myself in something other than grief. Wrap myself in him.

Pressing up onto my knees, I leaned over him and pushed the handle of the hose on. He lay still beneath me, the water cold beneath my touch as I ran my fingers through his golden strands. I dragged my nails along his scalp, and he let out a quiet groan, fueling my courage.

“I’m going to clean your shirt now,” I warned before I settled onto his waist, bringing the hose with me. He winced, his frame tightening at the cold shock of water. But he made no move to stop me as I rubbed my hand over his chest. I frowned at the mess. “I think we might be better off throwing this one in the wash—”

“Take it off.” His voice was a gritty rasp.

He sat up, and I gasped at the feel of his chest against mine, water seeping from his clothes into mine. Fingers shaking, I slipped them beneath his shirt as Nolan raised his arms. I peeled it off him, tossing it somewhere behind me.

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