25. Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Five

Indy — Then

I leaned forward in the stadium chair, heart rampant in my chest. My nails were gnawed down to nubs, and as I glanced at the fans beside me, their expressions tense but excited, I knew they were a jumble of nerves too.

It was the top of the ninth inning. There was one out, with batters on first and second. We were the home team, leading with a tight score of one-zero, and Nolan was on the mound. He’d pitched since his debut, but they’d all been away games, so I hadn’t seen him play since opening weekend.

“He’s feeling hot tonight.”

“I should’ve brought my radar gun. I bet you he’s throwing in the high nineties.”

“It’s those country boys, man. Homegrown on cornbread and mashed potatoes.”

A few weeks ago, my chest would’ve warmed to hear Nolan getting the praise he deserved. I would’ve joined in. Agreed he was playing one of the best games of his young career. But I stayed silent. Perhaps because I knew more than they did.

I was torn. Confused.

Nolan struck out the batter. “Yes!” I jumped out of the chair, clapping. “Atta baby! One to go! ”

But no matter how lost I was, I loved Nolan.

I high-fived the fans around me, a mixture of the team’s family and school alumni. Grabbing my phone, I texted Wayne, updating him on how his son was playing. He’d planned on coming, but a pipe burst at the shop and he’d had to stay in Wallowpine.

I hadn’t decided if I was relieved or not.

I clutched the hand of the woman beside me, the mom of one of Nolan’s teammates, holding my breath as he threw another pitch. With us being the home team, we got last at bat, so it wasn’t the end of the world if the other team scored.

But it sure as hell would feel good if they didn’t.

The count was two-two, and the stands were silent, quiet enough to hear a pin drop. My pulse pounded in my ears, and despite my uncertainty, deep pride washed through me as I watched Nolan. He stood with two feet on the mound, his attention focused solely on whatever call the catcher was giving him. He’d shaken off the call twice before he nodded, and with a deep breath, he started his windup.

In one fluid motion, he pivoted and raised his left leg and stepped forward, his throwing arm extended behind him as he rotated it around and sent the ball hard and fast toward home plate.

The fans roared in victory as the batter swung and missed, ending the game. I screamed, lungs burning as I jumped up and down, managing to keep an eye on Nolan. He walked off the field, cool and composed, like it wasn’t a big deal he’d closed out a hard game. But when I saw the flicker of a grin on his lips, I knew he felt the win.

I just wish it hadn’t been this way.

Knowing Nolan would likely spend an hour after the game with the team trainer to help with the recovery of his arm, I hurried down the stadium steps and toward the field. The dugout roofs were nearly flush with the stadium floor, and if anyone had a problem with me crawling onto it, they didn’t protest. I peered over the edge, ensuring the coaches weren’t inside and deciding if I could make the ten-foot drop into the dugout, when a few of the guys noticed me. They laughed, promising they’d catch me as I sat down, my feet hanging over the edge.

I braced myself to jump just as Nolan said, “Don’t you so much as think about letting them catch you, Indy Graham.”

He strode toward the center of the dugout, and I raised a brow. “What’ll happen if I do?”

His eyes flared as he stood beneath me, and my stomach stirred with excitement. “Get down here and find out.”

Consumed in the moment, I pushed off the edge and let myself fall. Strong hands caught me, my laugh breathless as Nolan wrapped my legs around his waist. His lips found mine immediately, hungry and needy. I might’ve cared about his teammates heckling us had I not tasted the musty bitterness on his tongue.

I pulled away, the taste of beer a reminder of why I felt like I was being split in two. I was failing Nolan. And I had no idea what to do. After quietly confirming he hadn’t driven here, I whispered, “I should go.” I didn’t want to make a scene, and he must’ve agreed because he lifted me up onto his shoulders and helped me climb onto the dugout roof. Still on my hands and knees, I turned to face him before he could walk away. “I love you, Nolan.”

His throat bobbed. “I love you, peaches.”

With that, I walked away, never once doubting what he felt for me. But I wasn’t confident in what he was doing. He was playing with fire. It was dangerous, and nothing good was going to come from it. Deep inside, I was relieved Nolan had told me his newfound plan and hadn’t tried to hide it from me. But I hated it.

I’d worked myself up into a panic by the time I was inside the apartment, steering between frustration and heartbreak. There was so much I needed to say to him. I was scared. Hopeless. Hurt. And I couldn’t help but wonder if Mom had been right and I had made a mistake.

But all of that went away when Nolan opened the front door .

I sat up on the bed, keeping Eugene in my lap as he closed the door behind him. He’d changed into gray joggers and a T-shirt, and I assumed by his damp hair he must’ve showered at the locker room after finishing his recovery routine.

“Is your arm feeling okay?”

“It feels good,” he assured me. “Tired, but good.”

Nolan’s coach had put him in at the beginning of the fourth inning to relieve tonight’s starting pitcher, and while he hadn’t gone over his pitch count, I wasn’t surprised his arm was tired. It was normal.

But this tension between us wasn’t.

He stared at me, and I him, the silence between us loud. He was the first to break it when he reached into his sports bag and pulled out a box of Lucky Charms. “You want to eat a bowl of cereal with me?” I scrunched my nose, assuming it was the stress from the past few weeks that made one of my favorite treats sound unappetizing, but Nolan must’ve thought otherwise. “I didn’t drive to get it. I walked to the gas station.”

I forced a tight-lipped smile, relieved he’d at least done that. “I’d like to kiss my husband without him tasting like beer more than I’d like a bowl of cereal.”

He let out a heavy breath, dropping his bag by his feet before sitting at the edge of our bed, his back to me. “I’m playing better than I ever have.”

“Exactly,” I told him. “ You are playing better than you ever have—and that’s because you are beyond talented, and you have worked your ass off to be where you are.”

He shook his head, refusing to hear me. “You said it yourself: what we were doing wasn’t working.”

I bit my cheek, fighting my temper back. If I wanted Nolan to talk to me, I needed to keep a level head. “It wasn’t. But drinking every day isn’t the answer.”

I’d hated him drinking before, no matter how infrequent it was. But I’d understood that every time he’d done it, it was out of desperation and hopelessness. When his mind was too heavy and he couldn’t take it anymore. But I had never supported it. It was why I worked to be everything he needed. Why I constantly called out of work, why I tried to be in tune and sense when he shouldn’t be alone .

I didn’t mind putting Nolan first. I wanted him to reach for me.

But now he was reaching for the bottle instead.

He rubbed at his temples with his palms, his voice tired. “We talked about this, Indy. I’m being careful. This is better than me crashing and getting drunk—I’m only having three beers a day. It’s not a big deal.”

I shook my head, not bothering to repeat what I’d already told him again and again. How eventually he’d build up an intolerance and three beers wouldn’t be enough. It was only a matter of time before one of the coaching staff caught him drinking or found out one of the upperclassmen was buying him alcohol.

“It’s helping me . . . I’m not worrying all the time. My mind doesn’t feel all screwed up.”

My throat swelled. “There’s nothing wrong with your mind, Nolan.”

“You’re not the one living in it.”

I covered my mouth, strangling the emotion down. He was right, I wasn’t living in his mind. No matter how much he let me in, I’d never fully understood the weight he carried. My soul ached as I thought of the first time he’d truly shared himself with me.

“ You know how when you go to bed, you’re certain the sun’s going to come up in the morning? Sometimes my mind feels the opposite of that. It feels like it’s never going to come up again.”

I’d do anything to take that feeling from him. Help him see the sun would rise again.

“I think we should call your dad . . . or at least talk to someone.”

Nolan turned to face me, nothing but devastation in his eyes. “You—you promised. You promised this would stay between us.”

I shuddered a sob, helpless. I was fifteen years old when I’d made that promise. When he’d admitted something he’d never shared with anyone, and I’d promised it would stay between us. I’d thought I’d done the right thing. But as time passed, and the more I understood the silent weight Nolan was bearing, saw how it seemed like some days it took everything in him to get out of bed, the more I doubted myself. As lost as he was, I was in over my head. What if I’d made matters worse by not getting help sooner ?

I closed my eyes, willing the building moisture to leave. I could cry later when I was alone—not when Nolan needed me. But a tear slipped free when the mattress shifted and I opened my eyes, finding him beside me.

He cupped my jaw, his thumb catching the fallen tear. “I’m okay, Indy.” He wasn’t. I wasn’t. There was nothing wrong with that, but I didn’t know how to make him believe me. “I know you’re worried, but please trust me when I tell you I’m okay. I’ve accepted this is something I’ll have to live with . . . but if I can find a little relief, I’m going to take it. Especially if it gets us closer to the life we want. The risk is worth it.”

He was the life I wanted. I didn’t care if our life was spent in Wallowpine, baseball stadiums, or any part of the world. No life, no dream, was worth his pain. But how could I tell him it was time to move on and give up his childhood dream? He’d worked so hard.

“You could get hurt. Addicted. You could get kicked off the team if someone finds out,” I tried instead, my voice a rasp. “So much could go wrong. There are other options. It doesn’t have to be this.”

“I know my limits, Indy. I’m being careful.” His words did nothing to soothe my throbbing heart. “I promise I won’t start drinking more, and I’ll only do it when I’m home. And just the same, I won’t be driving. No one’s going to get hurt. This won’t be forever.”

I set my hand over his where it lay on my cheek. “I’m afraid you’re going to lose yourself.”

“That’s not going to happen.”

“How can you be so sure? If you numb everything out, you won’t notice it’s gone—”

“Because I have you.” His forehead was against mine, the warmth of his voice inching down my nose. “You make up all the best parts of me, Indy. You.” He leaned back a breath and slipped his fingers into my hair, angling me so I had nowhere to look but at him, as though he needed me to see his fierce belief. “I could find you with my eyes closed, even with miles and mountains between us. I will never lose sight of you. ”

I wanted to believe him, wanted to believe this path was leading us somewhere good. But I couldn’t see it, and for the first time in my life, that terrified me. Still, as I felt Nolan’s soothing hands in my hair, I knew I’d follow him anywhere.

I couldn’t let him go down this road alone.

His lips touched mine, and I welcomed the kiss easily. Our kiss was hard. Frantic. I gripped his shoulders desperately, as though to stop him from slipping away. His hands moved with equal fervor, quietly reminding me I was his. I let him lose himself in me, tasting the alcohol on his lips again and again. I’d give him everything if it kept him afloat.