26. Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Six

Nolan — Now

“ W innie, don’t think I don’t see you,” Shay warned. “If you keep scootin’ your peas around your plate instead of eating them, I’m going to move you away from your uncle.”

Wren giggled beside me, apparently not buying her mama’s threat. Shay eyed me and the untouched pile of peas on my own plate. Groaning, I grabbed a spoonful and shoveled them into my mouth. “Mmm, delicious. You should try them.” I wiggled my brows at my niece. “Don’t worry, they’re safe. Your daddy made ’em—not your mama.”

“Haha,” Shay deadpanned. I waited for her to give me shit like she always did when we teased her about her cooking, but her attention was on her front door, where it had been most of the night.

“Jake’s not gonna make it tonight,” I told her. It was Shay and Brooks’s turn to host family dinner, and while they were weekly, it wasn’t unusual for one of us to miss. “Said he was headed to the top of the mountain to go fishing for a few days.”

“He called me on his way out this morning.” Brooks leaned over the table and gave his daughter a spoonful of taters and peas. “I was surprised you weren’t heading out with him. ”

I shrugged. “I was just out of town. Figured I should stay and get some work done.”

“I don’t mind taking a few days off from work and running the shop if you want to go,” he offered.

I popped a piece of chicken in my mouth. “I’ve got no reason to leave town.”

He pressed his lips together, likely resisting the urge to say more. It wasn’t that he wanted me out of town—he was worried. It was what he did. But there was nothing to worry about. I was fine.

“What’s going on?” I asked once I finished my plate. I hadn’t missed the way Brooks and Shay whispered to one another, my brother telling her she’d done nothing wrong. They shared a glance, and I braced myself for whatever they might say, just as there was a knock on their front door.

Her chair screeching against the wood floor, Shay pushed away from the table and bolted to answer it alongside their dog, Cash. Brooks gave me a nervous look, watching me like he didn’t know how I’d react as Shay opened the door. “Hey, come on in. You’re just in time for dinner.”

I huffed a laugh—she was too polite to call someone out for being late. I moved out of my chair to wash my plate, pausing when I saw a flash of red hair.

“I’m sorry I’m late.” Indy lingered in the entryway, holding still as Cash smelled her. “I’m sure you’re finished with dinner by now, but I thought I should stop by and apologize.”

“It’s okay,” Shay insisted. Why was Indy here? When had they become friendly? All my curiosity left when I heard Shay ask in a quiet voice, “Indy... is everything alright?”

I leaned across the table, not caring if she caught me staring. She wore a white cardigan and a pair of jeans that flared wide at her boots. Her hair was down, her curls full and framing her face. I couldn’t have imagined her better-looking if I tried, but it wasn’t her appearance that had my heart pounding.

Her eyes were glossy and rimmed with red, and I knew by the way she avoided Shay’s gaze she was trying to hide the fact she’d been crying. She’d been the same when we were younger. Her first instinct was always to hide when she was hurting .

But I saw it now as I had then, and I felt it just the same.

“I’m great.” Indy gave her a watery smile, her blinks quick. “I don’t think I’m used to the dry air anymore.”

“Alright, well, come on in. I’ll make you a plate.”

She followed Shay without another word, glancing around the cabin with wide eyes, likely wondering how the hell Shay and Brooks had turned what once was a literal dump into a home.

Years ago, this cabin was hardly more than a shack. It had been small and outdated, the flooring broken and rotted. But then, the flooring was ripped up and replaced. The foundation was strengthened. Walls were torn down, and it was expanded into a three-bedroom cabin. There were family pictures on the walls, laundry piled on the couch, and Winnie’s toys were scattered across the floor. There was no denying there was a sense of home within these walls.

“Here”—Shay pulled out the chair on the other side of Wren—“I saved you the best seat.”

Indy hesitated a step, probably thinking the best seat in the house wasn’t beside a grubby toddler, but she sat anyway. I watched her, waiting for her gaze to meet mine. But it never came.

What the hell?

We had a ways to go, but I’d thought we’d made progress. We were moving forward. Or had I imagined it? Had her fears not eased with a simple touch of our fingers like mine had?

“It’s good to see you, Indy.” Brooks scrubbed a hand through his beard, probably as uncomfortable in the silence as we all were. Even Winnie was quiet. “But I’m not so sure you being here is a good idea.”

I rolled my hand into a fist. Brother or not, he had no right to speak to her like that. Before I could drag him outside and make sure no one ever told Indy where she could or couldn’t be, he grinned. “Seriously? You took my brothers to a game, but not me? What the hell’s up with that?”

She cracked a smile, and I let out a breath, relaxing in my chair. “You used to complain when you’d watch games with me. I didn’t think you’d want to come. ”

“You should’ve heard him,” Shay told her, bringing back a plate from the kitchen. “He whined all night about how he was stuck at home while his brothers were out watching the rivalry game.” She scooted the plate across the table to Indy. “I don’t care if you leave him, but next time please take me so I don’t have to listen to him complain.”

“Or better yet,” Indy said, “let’s skip the men entirely.”

Shay laughed, and I’d be lying if I said something in me didn’t rejoice at the sight of them getting to know one another. “I see how it is.” I leaned back in my chair. “You’ve known each other for what—two minutes? And you’re already ditching us? I’m hurt.”

“Sorry.” Shay shrugged, making herself comfortable on Brooks’s thigh. “Us women have to stick together.”

Indy gave her a polite smile before she thanked her for dinner, silently eating as the rest of us made pointless conversation. She’d chimed in with one hell no after Shay tried persuading her into running a marathon with her. It wasn’t until Brooks and Shay stood and wandered to the kitchen that I said, “The diner looked busy from my view of the street. You have a good day?”

She nodded, apparently too lost in her mashed potatoes to respond—or look at me. I knew it was a lame question, but I was grasping for straws here, and I wasn’t about to let her push me away. “Doesn’t look like you have your earbuds in, so I’m assuming you can hear me.”

“I heard you,” Indy replied in between bites, her gaze on her plate. “I nodded.”

I let out a low chuckle, leaning against the table. “But I like listening to you, peaches.”

She huffed a laugh, letting a bit of her mask slip. “You’re the only one who ever has.”

She pushed around the food on her plate, seeming to hope I’d drop it. Like I didn’t remember the things people had said about her when we were kids. She was too loud. Reckless. Hotheaded. Stubborn. Her head was in the clouds. I’d never felt that way, and I had no intention of letting it go, but luckily for her—or maybe not lucky for her—Winnie had other plans.

My niece wrapped her tiny little fingers into Indy’s hair, mashed potatoes and all, and Indy screeched, taken off guard. “Wren,” I chided, struggling not to laugh. “Just because you barely have any doesn’t mean you can start yanking on a pretty girl’s hair.”

She gave me gap-toothed smile, winding Indy’s hair tighter in her fist. “See, I told you,” Indy cried, trying to pry herself free. “As soon as I talked, the baby grabbed my hair.”

I chuckled. Taking pity on her, I reached across the table. “Permission to touch your hair?”

“Why would you need permission to touch my hair?”

Because I won’t want to let go.

Instead of revealing that I was insane, I reached for Winnie’s grubby little fist. It didn’t matter if she was small—I’d learned how strong her grip was when she was a baby. Gently, I loosened her hold, careful not to hurt either of them. “There,” I said after freeing her, and because I wasn’t a creep, I didn’t run my fingers through her hair. Instead, I plucked my niece out of her high chair, plopping a kiss on her cheek. “Don’t worry,” I murmured, loud enough for Indy to hear me. “She’s always had a thing for getting her hair pulled.”

I waited, excited for Indy to snark something back. I was playing with fire, but I loved Indy’s fire. When she didn’t respond, I looked up, surprised at what I found. Her cheeks were a rosy red, her gaze entirely on Wren. She was too distracted by the little demon in my arms to pay heed to the clumps of food in her hair.

Seeing her like that, the way she was watching Winnie . . . It was enough to make me question how I’d ever let her walk away.

“You’re beautiful.” I hadn’t meant to say it aloud, but the hint of a smile on Indy’s lips made any potential rejection worth it. I cleared my throat, adjusting Winnie in my arms. “You want to hold her?”

“That’s okay.” There was something tender in her voice. “I like seeing you hold her. ”

Her gaze swept to mine, and I was grateful she didn’t look away. Didn’t try to hide what she was feeling. Somehow, without even a word, I knew what was running through her mind. It was exactly what was going through mine.

I’d bet it scared her just as much as it did me.

My fingers itched with the need to reach for her, but I never had the chance. Shay stepped back into the room. “I had an idea.” She reached for her daughter, slipping her out of my arms. “After we get Winnie cleaned up and down for bed, do you want to play some games? Brooks was telling me how you once wrestled him in a game of spoons—”

“I need to go, actually.” Indy stepped back, any trace of the emotion we’d shared gone. Her gaze was empty, her smile forced. “I’m sorry. I wish I’d shown up on time so we could have more time together, but I need to leave.”

“Oh, that’s okay,” Shay told her, doing a better job than I was at hiding my disappointment. “I meant to tell you: your mom taught me how to make her homemade pie crust, but I’m struggling. I know she left town today, but I was wondering if you had time to come over and give me some pointers? We could watch a movie or something—”

Indy choked on a sound, her fingers shaking against her lips. “I’ll let you know.” She grabbed her bag, her gaze on the floor as she made to leave. I expected her to dash outside, but she paused with a hand on the door. “Thank you for having me over, Shay. You have a beautiful family.”

Shay opened her mouth, helpless as Indy slipped outside and closed the door behind her. “Did I do something wrong?”

I shook my head, already walking away. “Thanks for dinner. Leave the mess, and I’ll stop by later to clean it up.”

Before she could reply, I closed the door behind me. I jogged to where Indy had parked her dad’s truck on the side of the road. Finding it empty, I looked to the meadow across from my brother’s house and cursed, realizing where she’d gone.

I ran down the hill that led into the meadow, and through the veil of night, I spotted her. She was sprinting through the long grass, running like her life depended on it. And because mine did too, I took off after her, hoping my longer strides would make up for her having a head start.

But Indy surprised me and stopped at the tree line.

I kept running, not stopping until I heard her panting breaths. Lungs burning, I slowed to a walk, grass crunching beneath my boots as I stopped beside her. The moon was high but only a sliver of its light peeked through the clouds, letting me see just the outline of a few trees amid the darkness behind it. The air was cool, a light breeze stirring Indy’s curls as an owl’s call wafted through the night.

Her gaze was determined on the ominous forest ahead of her, her chest rising with heavy breaths. “I was never scared to do this as a kid. I would’ve just run in there without a thought.” Her voice was hushed, so quiet I thought she might’ve been talking to herself. But then she asked, “Will you go with me?”

She hadn’t specified where she wanted to go, but I knew. It was the same place we’d run to as teenagers. About a mile from here there was an aspen tree, similar to the thousands adorning the forest. But this one was unique—it was our hiding spot. I’d stumbled upon it first, at what I’d thought was the lowest point of my life, but then Indy had found it—found me—and turned it into something more.

“I can’t.” She stiffened beside me, probably believing I’d turned her down because I’d outgrown our games, outgrown racing one another through the forest. That wasn’t the case, but I almost wished it was. I hadn’t outgrown anything. I’d destroyed it. “It’s gone.”

She whirled on her heel to face me, and the devastation she wore was a direct blow to my heart. “Why is it gone?”

My chest tightened; the truth caught in my throat. From the agony in her eyes, she knew why. But she needed me to say it. To confirm I’d given up on her. “I cut it down.”

Her bottom lip trembled. “Why?”

“I had to.” Later, I’d give her a better reason. I’d try to explain why I’d believed I had no choice but to cut down the spot where we’d planted our hopes and dreams. Now wasn’t the time for making amends or easing my conscience. Indy was hurting. So much she’d been desperate to run to the past.

Desperate enough to ask me to go with her.

I turned toward her, and with careful fingers, I put my hand on her wrist. Either she was too tired to fight or she needed this as badly as I did, but she didn’t resist when I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her against me.

Relief flowed through me as she melted into my touch, and I leaned down, resting my forehead against the top of her head. I needed her close. Her fingers clutched my waist, gripping my shirt. She wasn’t embracing me for comfort. This was anger and misery. Grief and guilt. Endless emotions were weaving us together. But I held on. Held on like I should’ve years ago.

I didn’t know how long we stood there, but it wasn’t until her breaths had slowed that I leaned back. Clearing her throat, she stepped away, and I let her, respecting her space.

“My mom told me I could go home. They don’t need my help with the diner.”

My stomach dropped, but I did my best not to let it show. “That’s a good thing, right?”

Eyes watery, she gave me a shaky smile I knew she didn’t feel. “Except I don’t know where to go.”

I watched her, heart pounding as I failed to stop the hope from flickering alive within me. Everything in me screamed to ask her to stay. To beg her not to go. But I didn’t. This wasn’t about me.

“My mom doesn’t want me near you.”

I raised my brows, surprised by the hurt that inflicted. I was closer with her dad than her mom, but we’d always been friendly, even after Indy and I went our separate ways. “That makes sense,” I tried. “I broke your heart.”

She laughed, the sound cold and choppy. “No, Nolan. She doesn’t want me near you.” She shook her head, defeated bitterness in her tone. “Apparently, it was difficult for her to watch you struggle to pick yourself up after I left you, and she doesn’t want to see that again. Figures it’s best I leave town before I make you lose more than I already did. ”

I clenched my jaw, any self-pity I had shifting into anger. Anger for Indy and that, yet again, someone felt it was fair to place my failures on her.

Before I could tell her just how wrong her mother was, she said, “For years, I’ve made choices, lived a certain life, because I thought it would make my mom proud.” Her eyes were exhausted, dark. “But it’s not working. I’m miserable... and I’m angry. I’ve wasted so many years trying to prove myself and make everyone see me in a different light. But no matter what I do, it’s never going to be enough. What am I supposed to do with that? And I know it’s not your fault, but I’m so tired of everyone telling me what you lost. I know what you lost, and I regret it every day. But what about me? What about what we lost?” Her voice broke, her hands shaking at her sides. “Maybe it can’t be seen or felt, but I lost a piece of myself, and I’m afraid I’m never going to get it back. And if that’s the case, what’s the point of all this? Why am I trying?” I watched her, watched as the woman I knew was capable of conquering the world struggle to hold herself together. It was the closest I’d ever seen Indy to breaking. That wasn’t because her heart was made of stone—it was because she didn’t let anyone see that side of her.

Was it because she’d never had anyone to break with?

A prideful part of me started to protest, but I beat it down. It didn’t matter if I thought I’d been that for Indy before. If she hadn’t felt like I was there for her—that was on me. Maybe I’d assumed too much, thought she’d understood how much she meant to me and left too many things unsaid.

Loosely, I put my hand on her wrist. “What you lost, what we lost . . . nothing you do will ever bring it back. It’s not coming back, and I’m sorry for that.”

Indy choked on a breath, the sound mixed with a cry. “But I want it. I’d do anything for one more chance.”

I knew she would. I felt the same desperation.

I’d felt it as a child when Mom left and moved to California, abandoning her family to pursue the life she thought she was missing. Felt it when I lost my chance at a dream career, one I’d put years of sweat into. But I’d accepted those losses. I’d moved on .

It was harder to accept the ones that gutted you. The ones where you bargained and pleaded for one more chance. I’d give anything to bring Dad back. Tell him I loved him one more time and prove I could’ve become a better man without him dying.

Most of all, I’d give everything to bring back what Indy lost.

I shifted my hold, molding her hand to mine as I carefully considered my words. I wanted to push for more. To delve deeper into the moment we’d shared inside with my niece in my arms, tell her how the grief I saw in her eyes looked similar to my own. But if Indy couldn’t even put a name to our loss, she wasn’t ready to confront it. “But maybe you could find something new. Not to replace it . . . but something for you to hold on to.”

She peered up at me with such emotion, and I savored the fact she was letting me see her this way. “I don’t even know where to start. I’m so off track from where I wanted to be.”

“You could stay here.”

I regretted it the moment I said it, solely because it was clear Indy didn’t want that. “I can’t live here.” Her hand slipped out of mine. “I’ve built a future for myself in New York. Even if I don’t get the job, I can’t start over. I’m too old, I’ve wasted too much time. And you and I . . . we’re getting divorced. You don’t want your ex-wife hanging around.”

“You’re killing me, Indy.” I grabbed her hands and brought them to my chest, giving them a little shake. “We could sign those divorce papers today and I would still want you here. And just so we’re clear, you don’t need anyone’s permission to take up space. Take up the whole damn world. It’s yours.”

Take up my space. Take up my world.

She looked at me with wide eyes as I said, “Listen, if you don’t want to live here, that’s fine. But if I’m being honest, it’s obvious you have no idea what you want. Ah—” I lifted my finger to her lips, stopping her. “There’s no sense in lying to yourself. You went into a career based on the belief it could give you the redemption you don’t need.”

Her throat bobbed, and I could see she was struggling to believe that I didn’t blame her for the past. But that was okay. Before this was over, I’d ensure Indy understood how much she’d given me. “I’m good at my job,” she murmured half-heartedly. “Or at least I will be.”

I didn’t doubt it. “Yeah, but will it make you happy?”

She bit her lip. She didn’t need to answer. “Did you have something in mind?”

My mouth dried, my heart rate spiking. Did I have something in mind? There was a lot on my mind. Like that there were still potatoes in Indy’s hair, and I’d probably fall to my knees for a chance to run my fingers through her silky curls. But I couldn’t tell her that—couldn’t tell her a lot—without making her run in the other direction.

The thought of her leaving early gutted me, but if it was what she needed, I wanted her to have it. “Have you thought about going to your sister’s? You’d get more time with your parents then—”

“Oh, no. I can’t . . . It’s better that I don’t.” She trailed off, as though that was explanation enough as to why she’d rather hang out in a shitty town than be with her family. Before I could ask her more, she said, “Um . . . I haven’t told you this, but I’m running an event with Lisa—the agency is helping too. It’s to help raise money for the school’s sports program, so even if I don’t work at the diner, I sort of need to be here. Plus, you and I have our deal.” She gave me a wobbly smile. “We gotta do what your dad asked to get that money for the bar.”

I rolled my tongue against the inside of my cheek, holding back the truth. I wanted to buy Heath’s bar and I needed Dad’s money to do that, but I wasn’t doing this—spending time with Indy and resolving the past—for cash. I was doing it for her.

But I didn’t tell her that. “You’re running a fundraiser? That’s amazing.” I was grateful she had a solid reason for staying, and I was proud of her. “Look at you, coming in and saving the kids’ sports programs. There’s no way the town can deny how much they love you then.”

Her eyes widened. “I swear that’s not why I’m doing this—”

“I know you’re not.” Indy was the least selfish person I knew. “I was just stating the obvious. The town can only stick their heads in the sand for so long before they have to accept the truth.”

She avoided my gaze. “The agency wants Calder to come down. It’ll be good publicity for him, and honestly, it’ll be good for him to get away. But are we . . . I mean, are you going to be okay with that?”

I straightened, regret heavy in my bones. After how I reacted in New York, I couldn’t say I blamed her for believing I wouldn’t be okay with it. “I’m looking forward to meeting him again. Tell me what I can do to help, and I’m there.”

She gave me a grateful smile, and because I craved another one, I said, “Well, if you’re worried that not working at the diner means your folks won’t like you staying at their place, then come stay with me. You’ll have to sleep in the basement, of course. But I’ll give you Lucky Charms every day, and if you’re extra good I might share Eugene with you—”

Indy laughed, her eyes crinkling, and even though it would hurt later, I relished in the sound, in her. She was so damn captivating, and she didn’t even know it.

She must’ve caught the way I was looking at her, because her laughter slowed and her smile faded. “Nolan?”

My fingers twitched at my side, and I fought like hell not to glance at her lips. “Yeah?”

“Do you think if your dad could see us, he’d be proud? Do you think he’s happy we’re trying to work together and say goodbye the right way?”

I blew out a breath, caught off guard. I didn’t know if he was watching us. If he was, he’d probably call me a fool. And I doubted he was proud. Not wanting to lie, I said in a low voice, “Yeah. I think he’s proud of you, peaches. Always has been.”

She smiled, apparently taking that as a win. It was a win for me too, because even though I was losing Indy at the end of the month, I wasn’t losing her today.