10. Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

Indy — Then

T his might’ve been a bad idea.

I tilted my head and stared at the vivid colors on the wall, not knowing if I should be proud or personally offended. Stepping back, I squinted hard and held my breath, deciding it was the former. Yup, the colorful blob indeed resembled a field of wildflowers.

Satisfied, I tiptoed to the kitchen sink, careful not to make a bigger mess. I’d already broken our landlord’s rule by painting with a non-neutral color—I didn’t need to smear it on the carpet too. Washing my hands, I caught a glimpse of the gold band on my left hand, and the sight alone was enough to chase away the feelings that’d had me hastily picking up a paintbrush for the first time ever.

I was a married woman.

I laughed to myself. I’d never once imagined I’d be married at eighteen. Nolan was my person, and I dreamed of being Indy Graham —though I’d yet to legally change my name—but I’d assumed marriage was far off. Figured we’d wait until after he’d been drafted into the MLB or graduated from college, whichever came first.

But when Nolan climbed out of his truck, got down on one knee, and asked me to marry him, I’d screamed yes without a doubt in my heart. Folks back home had called us rash, a few even taking bets on how long we’d last, but I didn’t care. I didn’t need them to believe in us. I had enough faith in Nolan to blindly follow him anywhere.

But I couldn’t deny it: I wished a few of them believed in us.

Grabbing my phone, I snapped a few pictures of the apartment. We lived in campus housing, a studio apartment reserved specially for married students. Since our getting married was a spur-of-the-moment thing, we’d gotten the last one available. The space was tight, and if I listened close enough, I swore I could hear mice shuffling behind the drywall. Our budget was limited, most of our decor was secondhand—we’d even scored our couch off the side of the road—but I didn’t mind.

It was ours.

Taking one last shot of the quirky squirrel clock I’d thrifted, I texted the pictures to Mom. My stomach sunk at the long line of unanswered messages. We hadn’t talked since the night Nolan and I announced we were getting married. Since she’d looked us in the eye and told us we were making a mistake. Since I overheard her tell Dad I wasn’t ready to start a family, that I’d walk away the moment I got bored. I hadn’t expected her to jump with glee, but I thought she’d be relieved I was committing myself.

Never once had I believed she wouldn’t come to our wedding.

The front door handle jiggled, and I shook my head, grateful to be pulled away from the devastation I’d felt in the courthouse when I realized no one from my family was coming. Heart racing, I scrambled through the room and scooped up the biggest secret I’d ever kept before I ran into the closet, shutting the door behind me. I licked my lips, wishing I’d had a chance to eat a peach. Nolan didn’t know I was allergic, and while I doubted he’d remain unaware forever, I wanted to soak in that feeling, that it seemed he couldn’t get enough of me for as long as I could.

I leaned against the door, trying to discern past the noise of moving traffic. I’d known living in the city would be different, but I hadn’t expected it to be so noisy. I’d tossed and turned the first few weeks, realizing it didn’t matter if it was the middle of the night—someone felt the need to honk their car horn or blare their music.

The front door creaked open, and I smiled. Maybe it was weird I’d hidden in the closet rather than greeting him at the front door, but everything about our lives had changed, and I needed this piece of home.

The flooring shifted with the sure sound of footsteps, followed by Nolan’s voice. “Look at that, it’s our lucky day. You can come in, sugar. My wife’s not home.”

I covered my mouth, smothering my laugh at his attempt to coax me out of my hiding spot. Nolan knew I’d skin him alive if he ever brought another woman here, just as sure as I knew he’d never break my heart.

He hummed, and I peeked through the crack between the closet doors, watching as he looked beneath the bed. “Well, if she’s not here, you may as well take the gift I got her.” I clamped my eyes shut, resisting. He doesn’t have a present. He’s only trying to lure you out. “I’ll tell you what, that’s a real shame too. She would’ve loved it—”

I shoved the door open. “Did you really get me a present?”

He smirked, giving me a knowing look from where he leaned against the wall. “I win. Again.” I rolled my eyes, unable to hide my smile, even more so when I saw the box of Lucky Charms in his hand. “Hope I didn’t get you too excited. It’s not much.”

Heart burning, I shook my head, struggling to form words. I was fighting off tears because I’d missed him, not because of Lucky Charms. Definitely wasn’t crying because they were my favorite and I hadn’t had them in a month, because even with scholarships, college was expensive, and with me being the sole provider, our budget was strict.

Before I could thank him by kissing the hell out of him, his gaze dropped to my chest. “Indy . . .” He raised a brow. “Why are you holding a cat?”

I choked on a laugh and held up the ball of black fur in my arms. “Surprise—I got you a present too. Happy one month. ”

His lips quirked up in a smile—he knew I hadn’t gotten him a cat to celebrate being married for a month. “I told you I heard meowing from the closet last night. You had me convinced I was going crazy.”

I laughed then, handing him the kitten. “I found him Tuesday morning.” Something in me swooned as he bundled him against his chest. He was hardly more than a few weeks old. His fur was all black, and I assumed by his protruding ribs and only having one eye, he’d been dumped. “He was in the alley when I left for my shift and still there when I came home that night. You should’ve heard him crying, and he looked so skinny—I had no choice but to bring him in for something to eat. But then he curled up in your hoodie, and I couldn’t bear to put him back outside.”

Nolan wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me to him. “You do have a habit of holding on to things you find.”

I propped my chin on his chest, looking up at him. “Can we keep him?”

“He is pretty cute, but—”

“Before you say anything else, hear me out,” I said, already having prepared my speech. “With you at classes and practices throughout the day, we’ve got plenty going on. Probably even more when your season starts up and you have away games, but I’m going to be here. Yes, I have work, but I still have plenty of time for him.” Before we moved, I’d expected Nolan to be busy, both with school and baseball. But I hadn’t anticipated how much we’d be apart, nor how lonely I’d feel. The cat had already made the days not feel so long. “I’m confident he can take care of himself, but we can love him and give him a good home. Something he doesn’t have out there.”

He glanced between me and the kitten, likely knowing he didn’t stand a chance. “Guess you’re ours, little fella—” He grunted, laughing as I wrapped my arms around him and squeezed. “Hope you’re ready to spend at least the next decade of our lives with him.”

“Sounds like a dream,” I whispered, bringing his lips down to mine. I kissed him slowly and unwound from the time apart, grateful we had endless decades ahead .

“Did you have a good day?” I pulled away and started changing into my work uniform, which resembled something straight out of a diner from the eighties. I hadn’t planned to continue waitressing, but years of experience had made me an easy hire. It won’t be forever. “How’d you do on your psychology test?”

“I won’t know how I did until the professor posts the scores, but I feel good about it.” He kicked off his shoes, tipping his head in the direction of the wall. “Looks like you were busy too.”

I trailed his gaze, my eyes widening in horror as I stared at the flowers I’d painted—or tried to. Good hell. It was horrible. With fresh eyes, it was hard to see it as anything but a murderous fever dream. Why had I used so much red? And why did the leaves resemble knives? Rather than pointing out I’d have to paint over it to get our security deposit back, he said, “It’s beautiful, Indy.”

I snorted. “I already married you, you don’t have to lie.”

He laughed, neither confirming nor denying. “Are you wanting to start painting?”

“No.” I had no idea why I’d done it. Besides painting simple designs on my jeans, I’d never actually painted before. Maybe I was homesick, or Mom’s silence was loud, but I’d woken up today and felt a little . . . lost. I’d never felt that way before. “I don’t know what I want to do.”

His eyes softened. “You’re going to figure it out. There’s nothing wrong with what you’re doing now. Whether you want to dance, garden, paint—anything at all. It’s all fine by me, as long as you promise to let me tag along.”

Grateful, I smiled, not bothering to point out I hadn’t danced or gardened since we’d left Wallowpine. There was a line dancing joint nearby that I hoped we’d go to soon, but we didn’t have a yard or a patio, so gardening was out of the picture. I might’ve confessed more, how I missed home more than I expected, and I was doubting if it was okay that I had no big dreams or aspirations of my own, had I not seen the dirt on his forehead and clothes. His nose was sunburnt, and there were deep circles beneath his eyes. He was exhausted—he shouldn’t have to come home to this.

I grabbed his hand, wishing I could take back the past five minutes. “How was practice? ”

He shrugged. “It was good.”

I let out a quiet breath, not surprised by his response. It was the one he’d given me all week. Just the same as the tightness he carried in his frame, even when we’d lie down for the night and watch an episode or two of Parks and Recreation . If Ron Swanson couldn’t make him laugh, then something was wrong.

Reaching up, I lifted the hat off his head and ran my fingers through his hair. “What’s going on?”

He shook his head, his smile forced. “I’m just tired. It was a long week.”

I nodded, not disagreeing. But I knew Nolan, and if he stewed in his thoughts long enough, he’d get lost in them. I slid my arms around his waist, resting my cheek against his collarbone. “I love you,” I whispered into his skin, “and nothing you say or do will ever change that.” It was quiet for a moment, and I’d been with him long enough to know it wasn’t because he was hesitating to let me in. It wasn’t me he was doubting—it was himself. I didn’t mind waiting; for him I could be patient. I’d show him not everyone ran away.

He let out a deep breath, his hand wrapping with mine at our sides. “Everything I want is within reach, I can feel it. But at the same time . . . I throw one bad pitch, and I could lose everything. And I hate that feeling.” His voice was quiet, unsure. “Everyone on the team is damn good—don’t get me wrong, I know I am too. But there are eight other pitchers on the team, and if I want to impress the MLB, I’ve got to be better than every single one of them.”

I brought one of my hands to his back, leaving a trail of soothing circles. “You’re playing at a different level of ball, Nolan. Everyone’s going to be good, but in return that’s going to help you improve. The only player you need to worry about beating is the one you were yesterday.”

“And if my shoulder only gets worse?”

I pressed my lips together, not understanding where this was coming from. As far as I knew, his shoulder hadn’t been straining him. “Is it getting worse?”

He shook his head. “I just worry.”

“Okay.” I softened my voice, careful not to discredit what he was feeling. “Even if it gets to that point, it’s not the end of your career. We can do physical therapy, acupuncture. You have options.” There was another option, always lingering in the back of my mind. I’d never voiced it aloud, fearing it would change everything. Deciding we weren’t at that point, I said, “Your shoulder is strong, Nolan. You’ve put in the work—trust yourself. You deserve to be here as much as anyone else.”

His throat bobbed, and I knew from the way he scanned my gaze, he was searching for reassurance. He might not believe in himself, but it was obvious that me believing in him meant something. “There’s no way I’d be where I am without you, Indy.”

That wasn’t true. Take me out of the picture, and Nolan would be right here, pursuing his dreams. But I was glad I was here, grateful I could support him when he was unsteady. It was then I remembered why I hadn’t let myself be pressured into attending college or chasing after a big goal. All I wanted was a life with Nolan. I had time to figure everything else out.

“Can I come to your practice tomorrow?” I asked, wanting to lighten the mood. “I already know you’re the best pitcher, but I need to compare your butt to your teammates’. Make sure my husband still has the best ass.”

He smirked, but I didn’t miss the lingering heaviness in his eyes before he slipped away to shower. Grabbing my phone, I texted one of my coworkers to see if she’d swap shifts with me. It wouldn’t look good to my boss, but Nolan needed me. I knew I’d made the right decision when he stepped out of the bathroom and immediately looked relieved to see I’d changed out of my uniform and into my pajamas.

Grabbing his hand, I led him across the short distance to our bed. I didn’t want him to stress about the future. We were here, together.

He lay beside me, lazily running his fingers through my hair as I stared up at the ceiling, at the green star stickers there. Our first night here, out of habit, I’d gone outside to see the night sky, only to realize the stars were barely visible through the city lights and smog. It had taken me off guard, but I’d tried to hide it. Nolan must’ve seen right through me, or perhaps he missed the view as much as I did, because the next night there were glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling .

I smiled to myself now, remembering how he turned me into a hysterical mess when he sang about stars shining for me from Coldplay’s song “Yellow.” I hadn’t known whether to laugh or cry at how off-key he was.

“Did you talk to your mom today?” he asked, and I shook my head, grateful he wasn’t looking at me. It was quiet between us, but I could hear him silently asking me more. He knew she didn’t support our marriage, but I hadn’t told him how it was affecting me. How each unanswered message further drove in the nail of her disappointment. But Nolan had enough to worry about and... it felt wrong to complain about my mom when his own had abandoned him when we were kids.

Humming, he slid one arm between my back and the mattress, the other over my stomach, and pulled me tight into his frame. “I wish I could tell you I regret making you my wife, but I don’t. Not ever.”

“Me neither,” I whispered. “Not ever.”

The mattress shifted at our feet, and I glanced up, smiling. “What should we name our cat?” I sat up, running my fingers through the little guy’s fur as he curled up at the foot of the bed. “I was thinking Oliver? We can call him Ollie—”

“Eugene.”

“No.” I laughed, stopping when Nolan didn’t join me. Lord save me, I’m going to end up with a cat named Eugene . “Why Eugene? We’re supposed to love him—not set him up to be bullied by the other cats.”

“It’s a perfect name.” He grinned, and I rolled my eyes as he put a hand on my shoulder and eased me onto my back. He knew he was going to win. And I didn’t care—I was grateful to see a bit of the light back in his eyes. “Think about it. All the other tomcats won’t know what to expect from a cat named Eugene. Then bam—they’ve got their asses kicked.”

I giggled, utterly helpless as Nolan crawled atop me. “Fine, you win. Eugene it is.”

“I’ll let you pick the next name.”

I raised my brow. “Just how many cats do you plan on having?”

“Not cats.” He kissed my cheek and left a trail of heat down my skin, not stopping until his lips hovered over my stomach. “Babies. ”

I choked on a laugh, the noise mixed with nerves. “Great. I’ll keep that in mind for in ten years.”

He lifted my shirt, easing it over my head before lowering his mouth back to my stomach. I arched into his touch, fingers tangled in his damp hair. “I don’t know,” he hummed against my skin, “I need you to make me a whole baseball team. It would be smart to start now.”

“Nine babies?” I squeaked.

“It would be smart to have a few on the bench too. So at least twelve.”

I gasped, kicking my feet as he nipped at my hip bone. “I wasn’t aware I was going to be pregnant for the rest of my life.”

He let out a low groan. “It drives me wild thinking about you as a mom and seeing you carrying our babies.”

His hands clutched my waist, and I could tell by the rapid rising of his chest the time for conversation would soon be over. My voice was breathless. “Do you think I’d be good at it? Being a mom?”

He paused, and if not for his hands gripping me, his frame against me, I would’ve thought I was alone. “I think you can be amazing at anything you want, Indy.”

We were barely adults, and while I couldn’t wait until the day I chased little versions of Nolan around, we weren’t seriously planning on having kids soon. But hearing his confidence in me, how he believed I could do anything, it was more than I could ask for. “Do you think we could wait and let me be good at it in at least five years?”

He inched his way up my frame. “Fine. But in the meantime, we should practice.”

“I like practicing,” I said, giggling as he made quick work of my pajamas. “I should shower. I probably taste like paint—”

He silenced me, kissing me with the same hunger and devotion he always did. “You don’t taste like anything but mine.”

That was enough for me.