38. Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Nolan — Now

I ’d lived in this house for most of my life, and I’d never been in more of a hurry to get home as I was then.

Dirt trailed my tires as I pulled into the driveway, heart racing as I thought about what was waiting for me inside. Despite Indy saying she missed me, I didn’t want to come across as overeager and made myself count to five before I climbed out of the truck. It was dark out, but the porch light was on, and I let out a breath of relief at the sight of the flower beds. They were beautiful. I hadn’t known how today would go for Indy. She was more than capable of watching my niece, but I worried what it might bring up. Hell, I was happy for my brother and loved spending time with his family, but there were times it felt like a blow straight to the gut. No denying it sometimes threw me down a painful spiral, thinking about what should’ve been.

I’d regretted not rescheduling my shipments as soon as I left early this morning, but that feeling eased throughout the day. Indy had texted me several times, even called to tell me how she’d cut Winnie’s sandwich into the shape of a turtle. Her excitement had been contagious, and soon I found my regret shifting from a place of concern to wishing I was there to share today with her.

Ready to feel a touch of that magic, I opened my front door and stepped inside. The lights were off, the glow of the television just enough I could see the living room. I crept toward the sectional, careful not to step on the scattered toys and books on the floor, and I smiled, feeling it deep in my chest. Winnie was sleeping, her cheek squished against Indy’s thigh. Careful not to wake her, I sat down and slipped my arm around Indy. She stared down at my niece, and I ate every bit of it up as she ran her fingers through her hair. She leaned against my side, and I was the luckiest man in the world as she left a tender kiss on my lips.

I had everything I ever wanted.

God, what a gift it was to come home to this.

Except this gift isn’t mine.

The thought jarred me, enough I pulled back from Indy’s lips. She must’ve felt the way my frame stiffened or perhaps she’d had a similar realization, as she made no move to continue our kiss. Sharing shaky breaths, I adjusted my hold on her waist, not wanting her to slip out of my reach. I couldn’t lose her, not yet. Throat bobbing, her gaze tentatively met mine, and I was dragged back in time as I took in the quiet, lonely grief on her beautiful face.

Her eyes were glassy, and even in the poor lighting I could see splotches on her cheeks, as though she’d been crying off and on before now. My throat squeezed, the pain unbearable, as the cruel line between what should’ve been and reality settled into place. It hadn’t mattered that I hurried home, desperate to share this with Indy. There was no changing the cold, hard truth.

This wasn’t our life. This wasn’t our home. And the child asleep on her lap wasn’t ours .

Silently, hopelessly, a tear pooled past the corner of her eye and onto her cheek. And in that tear, I saw everything. Everything we’d run from. The agony and sorrow that tore us apart.

Everything we lost.