Page 96 of The Light We Lost

She raised her brows, likely as surprised as I was. “Well, I’m going to ask you to respect that this is my home. You’re welcome to come back another time, but for now it would be best if you left.”

Nolan’s gaze flicked to mine as he waited to see what I wanted to do. There was one thing on my mind, and it had nothing to do with my mom. I pressed up onto my toes and kissed him hard. “I’ll see you at home.”

Despite my words, I didn’t miss the hesitation in his eyes. I had no idea if it was because he wanted to support me or if he was afraid I wouldn’t follow through. Before I could reassure him either way, he went upstairs to get his things and then told us both goodbye and walked out the door.

I sat down on the couch, clad in nothing but Nolan’s shirt. I could’ve gone upstairs and changed, but there was no time to waste. This conversation was long overdue.

“What are you doing, Indy?”

I didn’t respond. I knew what I was doing—I just didn’t want to tell her. Because this thing between Nolan and me? It was beautiful and pure. It made me happy. I wasn’t going to let anyone make me feel like it wasn’t the greatest gift in the world.

When it was clear I wasn’t going to reply, she said, “You have to let that boy go, Indy. His heart—his life—is not a game to be played with.”

I blew out a deep breath, tired already. “Nolan is the last person I’d ever want to hurt.”

“I don’t think you’re trying to purposely hurt him,” she tried again, and a small part of me appreciated her softening her tone. “But that doesn’t mean it’s right for you to start something up with him when you plan on leaving him again.”

I pressed my lips together, a low fire building in my heart. “Have you ever considered how it might be for me?” I asked, voicing what I should’ve long ago. “Did it ever occur to you how painful it was for me to lose him? How much I missed him? How hard it was for me to pick myself up?”

“Of course I know it was hard for you. I know you cared for him, Indy. But he lost an entire future—”

“I loved him,” I pressed, my voice shaking. “You and Dad are high school sweethearts, so I really don’t know why you’ve never taken it seriously, but I loved Nolan more than anything. Yes, we were young—but it was real. And when I lost him, I lost everything. You, Dad, Auburn. My home. This town. I lostmyfuture, Mom.”

She watched me, and I could tell by her silence she wanted to know more. Have a clearer picture of what I’d lost. But I wasn’t going to tell her. It wasn’t out of spite. I didn’t need to justify my pain.

She pressed her lips together, seeming to consider her words. “I am sorry for the losses you suffered, Indy, but you have been working so hard these past few years. You’ve created a beautiful life. And I’d hate to see you throw it away for a few weeks of reliving the good ol’ days. There are some things you can’t control. Can you imagine if you accidentally got pregnant? What then?”

I choked on a laugh, shaking my head. Logically, I knew she hadn’t said it to hurt me. She wanted me to consider the big-picture consequences, so I wouldn’t throw away mybeautiful life.But if she peered past the surface of that life I’d made, she’d see how incredibly lonely it was. “Yeah, I can imagine it,” I told her, deciding to hell with it. “But I mean, we’re married. So no big deal, right?”

She blinked slowly. “Tell me you didn’t remarry him.”

I shrugged. “Never divorced him, actually.”

She stared at me with wide eyes, and I could’ve sworn I saw smoke brewing in her hair. “I don’t know what you two are doing, but neither of you are thinking straight. Do you have any idea what the town will say once they catch word of this? Or how it looks for you to pop back into his life with his businesses taking off? They’re going to have a heyday with this—and it won’t be his name that gets smeared.”

“I don’t care!” It was the most honest I’d been in years. “I don’t care what this town thinks about me. Do you know the only time their words have ever hurt me? It was when my mom believed them too. When you were more concerned about what everyone else thought, instead of how I felt.” I shook my head, defeated. There was nothing left to say. “I can’t keep living this way. I can’t keep cutting myself down and forcing myself into a box for you.”

“I’m not—” She closed her mouth, and I didn’t miss the way her bottom lip trembled. “What are you saying?”

The words were there, and this time, I didn’t hesitate to say them. “I love you. I miss you and Dad. I hope someday I get tocome homewithout feeling like I need to prove myself.” I let out a steady breath as panic and heartbreak pulsed through me, but there was acceptance too. “But if you can’t support me, whether I’m in New York, living here with Nolan, or wherever else I decide to go, then you need to get comfortable watching my life from afar.”

I walked up the stairs to my childhood room, not waiting for a response. This conversation needed to be had years ago—there was no way we could find a solution in a day. I wasn’t sure if we’d ever find one, but nothing productive would come from me staying here. After getting dressed, I grabbed my suitcase and cradled Genny in one arm, and then I walked out the front door.

Dad sat on the porch, and from the weary smile he gave me, he’d heard it all. He glanced at my suitcase, and I braced myself for him to ask me to stay. To come home. But he did something better.

He tossed his truck keys to me, and I caught them as he said, “Take it. Doesn’t matter how far it is—you keep driving until you find where you need to be.”

Chapter Forty-Eight

Nolan—Now

Everything was falling apart at the seams.

The wood cracked and I cursed, chucking it across the shed. I rubbed at my jaw, taking a deep breath before I fetched a new piece of scrap wood. Grabbing a pencil, I again carefully drew the outline of what I was trying to carve. It would be easier to use a stencil, but I was prideful, and I needed this done by hand.

The door groaned open, and I glanced up, finding Brooks. “It’s about time,” I said, grabbing the drill gun. “I need you to attach these brackets onto the flower boxes. Please.”

He lingered in the doorway, looking like he wanted to say more, but whatever it was, he held it in and grabbed the drill gun. “Everything alright?” he asked, measuring where to attach the brackets. “You sounded kind of . . . frantic on the phone.”

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