Page 93 of The Light We Lost

She was hopeful like that.

As she covered the last of the red and blue flowers, I wondered if she’d stopped thinking that way. If she’d stopped imagining what someone could be and instead accepted they would never change.

“If you want to lie down, I can finish painting for you,” I offered, seeing the way Indy kneaded her lower back every fewminutes.

“I’m okay.” Her tone was easy, polite. “Thank you.”

I rubbed at my jaw. There was plenty left for me to pack, but I felt helpless as to what to do. “You want to go on a walk?”

“No.”

“You sure? There’s duck ponds not even a quarter mile away. We can take a few slices of bread and feed ’em—it might be fun.”

She paused mid-stroke, white paint dripping onto the tarp beneath her stool. “I just want to get this done. We don’t have a lot of time left.”

She was right.

Making myself useful, I loaded a few more boxes into the back of my truck. When Indy was finished painting, and there were no more boxes of my stuff left, I found the nerve to say, “I talked to Dad. He said I can work at the shop . . . live at the house for a bit.”

“Oh.” She froze at the kitchen sink, water trickling off the paintbrushes. Her brows were furrowed, like she was carefully choosing her words. “I . . . I don’t know if I can go back.”

I’d expected that response, hoped for it even. I didn’t fault her for not wanting to return to our hometown. She hadn’t mentioned it, but Dad had told me what the town was saying about her. How they blamed her for what happened. How she never should’ve let me get behind the wheel. Claimed she’d hidden my drinking because she only cared about herself and money.

They were wrong. They’d always been wrong about her. And she deserved better.

Before I could tell Indy it was okay, that I didn’t expect her to go back, she said, “I’ve been looking at a school in Ohio. The one we considered going to before you got an offer here.” She brushed a curl behind her ear, not quite meeting my gaze. “I was thinking we could go there . . . It’s far. Sort of thought it might be nice to get away from Arizona.”

My chest squeezed, and something that felt like true agony gripped my veins. Even after everything I’d done, how I’d failed, she didn’t want to let me go.

I didn’t want her to. But I needed her to.

I leanedagainst the wall and gave her an easy smile, pretending I wasn’t dying inside. “I need to go home, Indy. But you should go to Ohio. Wherever you want.”

Her lip trembled. “I should?”

I tipped my chin, struggling to get the words out. “Yeah. Some space would do us both good.”

She let out a broken breath, blinking hard as she washed the paintbrushes beneath the water once more. Tears slid down her cheeks, and I knew she felt the same paralyzing pain I did.

“It wouldn’t be forever, right?” Her voice cracked, and it took every morsel of strength I had not to reach for her. To take back what I’d said and follow her anywhere. “It’s just a little break? I-I don’t want to get divorced.”

I put my fist over my mouth, grateful Indy wasn’t watching me as I fought to keep myself in check. Blinking away the moisture in my eyes, I cleared my throat. “It’s not forever.”

“You promise?”

She looked at me then, and even with the distance and pain between us, I could see the love in her eyes. Love I didn’t deserve, but I prayed to God I’d someday be worthy of. “I promise.”

But that was just another way I’d broken my word.

Chapter Forty-Six

Indy—Now

I’d thought I’d lost this forever.

I lay beside Nolan on the roof outside my childhood bedroom window, his hand in mine. The moon was bright, the air was warm, and if I listened closely, I’d catch snippets of the breeze shifting through the pine trees. We’d shared many nights like this as teenagers. When Mom and I fought, or I needed a reminder there was more outside this town, I’d climb out my bedroom window and lie on the roof. Nolan had gotten so used to me doing it that instead of walking through the front door, he’d grab a ladder from the back and join me. It was such a simple thing.

Simple . . . yet I knew how lucky I was to do it again.

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