29. Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Twenty-Nin e

Indy — Now

“ Y ou’re looking a little red,” Jake stated from his side of the canoe, his attention on the line he’d cast in the water. “Want me to take you back in? I’m sure Nolan wouldn’t mind the company.”

“I’m good.” Feeling a tug on my rod, I reeled my line in. I rolled my eyes at the clump of seaweed and snatched it off the hook, tossing it back in the lake. “I’m having a good time out here.” I wasn’t.

It had nothing to do with Jake, or even that my pasty skin was on the brink of being entirely roasted in a matter of a few minutes. I hated fishing. Always had, always would. I wasn’t patient. I liked results, and I liked them fast. And fishing? You could cover me in molasses and force me to run the Boston Marathon and I’d finish before I ever caught a fish.

But I was trying new things. Had to see if something sparked an interest in me.

Jake chuckled under his breath. “I’ve never seen you sit still for so long.”

I smiled to myself, grateful he hadn’t said it like it was a bad thing. “That’s not true. What about that time Jules and I scared you as kids? We hid under your bed for hours before you and Wren came in—”

“I knew you two were there the whole time. Heard you giggling and squirming for the better part of an hour,” he said, probably thinking of all the times his daughter and I had tried scaring them as kids. “Not sure I’ve ever seen Wren as mad as she was when you two grabbed her ankles. ’Bout scared her out of her own skin.”

“She always said we were trouble.”

“And she loved it.” His voice had gone quiet.

I fidgeted in my seat, wondering if I’d been wrong to bring his wife up when he said, “Wren hated fishing too. Always claimed being stuck on a canoe in open water made her feel suffocated.” Of course she hadn’t been a fan of being confined to one spot. Her spirit was too big for that. “But she came with me regardless. Always trusted me to put her two feet back on sure land.”

I rubbed a hand over my mouth, at a loss for words. Wren had never told me I was rowdy or restless. Never tried to place me in a box. Being away . . . I’d thought I was saving myself from so much pain. But as I was already learning, I’d missed out on so much more.

“Isn’t it hard to come out here without her?” I asked, deciding it wasn’t too personal of a question. I knew Jake wouldn’t feel obligated to give me a response he didn’t want to give.

“First time I came out here after Wren passed, I expected it to be that way . . . but it’s not.” His gaze was distant, focused on the water. “I’m not saying it’s not different, because it is. But I’ve learned I can enjoy the same things from before, but for different reasons. When she was alive, I liked coming here because it was time away from work, and I got to tease her a bit. But now, I like it because it’s quiet. And it makes me feel close to her. Maybe it’s foolish, but I can’t find a good enough reason to stop doing what I love just because it hurts.”

I bit my lip, helpless to stop the guilt from taking root in me. Jake faced his grief, embraced the sorrow and the memories to feel close to her. Even when it hurt. While I just . . . I just ran from mine.

I was still running.

I glanced at Nolan, finding him stretched out in a chair beneath the camper’s awning. His hat covered his eyes, and I assumed by the lack of movement, he was asleep. “Does Nolan tag along with you often? ”

“About once a month. Sometimes more.” He shrugged. “It’s a good time. It’s nice to get away from the bullshit and reset.”

“I hadn’t realized you two were close.”

He scowled like I’d said something foul. “We don’t braid each other’s hair if that’s what you’re thinking—”

I laughed, certain we were scaring away the fish.

“After I lost Wren... it was hard to find the point of living when my whole reason for existence had disappeared. I was drinking more, wasn’t leaving the house. Wasn’t doing much of anything. Of course, the whole town noticed. They’d stop by, tell me I needed to get out, that Wren would want me to be happy. They meant well, but they were pissing me off. So much I considered leaving town. Until one day, Nolan swung by. But instead of telling me to get up, he sat down. Spent the whole day with me, doing nothing at all. He just—he let me grieve.”

It was quiet for a long while. I couldn’t have spoken clearly even if I’d tried. Nolan was a good man, I’d always known that. But to hear what he’d done, especially while grieving his own father . . . it had me feeling something I hadn’t expected.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Jake said with a low chuckle, as though to break up the seriousness of what he’d just shared. “Nolan was there for me in a way no one was. Still is. But he’s a massive pain in my ass.”

I smiled to myself. I had a feeling it went both ways. I reeled in my line as Jake did, realizing my time for questions was nearly over. “Did Nolan really quit drinking?”

He nodded, and I was surprised by the immediate relief that gave me. It didn’t matter if I’d gone years not seeing Nolan; those years had been filled with worry. And guilt. Guilt for not doing more to help. For not knowing how to be what he needed. I was grateful he’d found something to help him quit, grateful he had someone like Jake.

After getting the canoe to the bank, Jake and I hopped out and into the water, pulling it up onto the shore. A quick look at my skin told me I was one shade away from being a human tomato, so I made my way to camp, figuring Jake might appreciate some alone time.

To my disappointment, when I got back, Nolan’s chair was empty. Assuming he’d gone on a hike or something, I slipped into the camper, ready to snuggle Genny. She’d never been camping, but she seemed happy. But I wanted to make sure she knew she was loved—

I stopped in the doorway. Someone was already doing that. Nolan was kneeling beside the bottom bunk bed Genny and I had claimed last night, rubbing beneath her chin with one finger. His shirt was off and his hair was damp—he must’ve taken a shower and gotten distracted while getting dressed.

“You catch anything?” he asked, his gaze on Genny as he ran a hand down her back.

“No.” I huffed a laugh as she pushed against his hand, silently demanding more rubs. “I’ve never been good at fishing.”

He hummed under his breath. “You can be good at anything you want, peaches.”

I forced a breath in and out, feeling like my heart skipped a beat as I remembered all the times Nolan had told me that before. Even after everything, he still believed in me. He was still calling me peaches—and I still loved it, though I’d never admit it aloud. It had been years since I was foolish enough to eat a peach. My allergy had gotten worse as I got older, and after a bad reaction in college, I’d cut myself off.

I was about to point out I hadn’t eaten a peach in years, but Nolan must’ve believed I was beating myself up over not catching any trout, as he continued, “Jake talks a lot, so I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s why—What the hell happened to you?”

Seeing Nolan’s wide eyes, I followed his gaze and glanced down at myself, realizing what the fuss was about. “I got a little bit of sun.”

“A little?” His lips twitched. “You look like a lobster. A cute one—but holy hell, you’re a lobster.”

I shrugged. I was a redhead; sunburns were ingrained in my DNA. Before I could tell him it wasn’t a big deal, Nolan was up and rummaging through the bathroom. Like the weakling I was, instead of protesting, I took the opportunity to admire his frame.

His back was well-defined, tapering off at his waist, and through the reflection of the bathroom mirror, I glimpsed a tattoo on his chest. Before I could discern what it was, he turned to face me. He flashed me a crooked grin as he grabbed his shirt and slipped it on before making his way to me with a bottle of aloe vera.

“Thank you.” I held my hand out to accept it.

Rather than handing the bottle over, he tipped his chin. “Turn around, Indy.”

I opened my mouth, my throat parched at what he was insinuating. “I can do it.”

He raised a brow, his hair mussed and falling in his eyes. “You can’t reach your back. Let me do it.”

My cheeks burned, and I hoped Nolan would think it was the sunburn. In the grand scheme of things, letting him rub aloe vera on my back wasn’t a big deal. It was just my back. But I’d just been ogling his— oh good hell, Indy. Get it together.

Without another thought, I turned, steeling myself for his touch. It was quiet, nothing but the sound of our breaths and him lathering the gel onto his hands. The longer I waited, the hotter my skin grew. Just when I thought I might prefer third-degree burns, his hands touched my shoulders.

I sighed at the immediate relief as he rubbed the gel into my skin. Not wanting to get my hair wet, I’d thrown it up and changed into a tank top before I went out on the lake, but clearly that had been a mistake.

“You got something against sunblock?” he teased as his fingers grazed my neck, careful with the loose strands of hair there.

“I didn’t think about it.”

His voice was a low murmur. “You’re always thinking of everyone else. Never yourself.”

I dropped my gaze to my feet, my mind drifting back to what Jake had shared with me. How Nolan helped him in a way no one else had. All these years, I thought I’d failed Nolan. Failed him when I should’ve saved him. But now, as he lifted the straps of my top with painstaking gentleness and soothed my aggravated skin, I realized he was so much more than that.

If we hadn’t run from one another... if our love hadn’t been drowned in despair, would he have given me the same solace he’d given Jake? Would I have remained in that endless darkness forever, or would he have eventually found me in it? Would we have found our way back together?

I supposed it didn’t matter. In a few weeks, we’d sign our divorce papers and say goodbye. But sometimes, I hoped... No. I couldn’t let my mind go there.

It hurt too much.