43. Chapter Forty-Three

Chapter Forty-Thre e

Indy — Now

I covered my mouth, slowing my breaths as I hid in the corner of the shed, keeping an eye on the door. I hadn’t known what Nolan would do, if he’d want to play hide-and-seek. Some things were better left behind. We were both nearing thirty, far too old for childish games. But he’d rolled onto his stomach and begun to count without an ounce of hesitation, giving me no chance to plan.

I’d run out of his room, heart racing, as he counted to forty. After closing every door on the first floor and stomping on the stairs, I slipped outside. I hoped Nolan wouldn’t think to look outside with the ground being wet from last night’s downpour. After ten minutes of silence, I assumed I’d been right.

Figuring I had only a few minutes before he discovered I wasn’t in the house, I turned on the light to get a better look at his shop. I hadn’t been here since the night he shared with me how woodworking helped him sort through his grief. When he’d set a smoldering flame in me and gotten me to admit I wanted more.

My heart burned, still feeling a flicker of that passion as I wandered through, admiring his unfinished projects. Curious to see what was hidden beneath a tarp, I lifted it, but I only got a glimpse of white wood before the door began to grind open .

Stomach stirring with excitement, I ran to the nearest corner of the shed. A laugh bubbled past my lips, and I smothered it with my hand as Nolan stepped into the room. His hands were loose, his steps slow and leaving a trail of mud. I glanced at my shoes, and when I saw the globs of mud on them, I knew I was caught.

I inched along the wall toward the entrance, keeping an eye on him as he searched the shelves, likely believing I’d crawled onto one. His back was to me, victory so close I could taste it. But then he turned, and his slow, devilish grin told me he’d known I was there the whole time.

Refusing to lose, I ran out the door in search of my next hiding spot. But it was in vain, as I got only halfway across the backyard before his steps were hot on my heels. His hands snagged my waist, and I screamed, laughing as he brought me to the ground, using his body to absorb the fall.

“Really?” His arms banded around mine, holding me there as I scrambled on my side. “You still cheat?”

Slipping an arm free, I grabbed a handful of mud before reaching back for him, blindly smearing it. “I did not cheat!”

“What do you call pouring popcorn kernels all over my floor? I damn near broke my neck—”

I laughed hard, wishing I’d stayed inside to see that. “I didn’t—” I gasped, shocked as Nolan stuck a hand in my hair, mud and all. “You asshole. Don’t ever ask to touch my hair again. I just washed it—”

He laughed and I did too, screaming when he grabbed the hose and held it over me, offering to wash my hair. After endless pleas and a few swift maneuvers, I managed my way on top of him.

I sat on him, my hands against his shoulders. “I win.”

He raised a brow, bringing one arm to rest beneath his head. “You sure? Feels like I did.”

Rolling my eyes, I grabbed the hose. “You’re filthy,” I teased, making a show of looking him over. I’d done a number on him. The front of his shirt was smeared in mud, his arms coated. I could only imagine what I looked like. “You should really clean yourself off before you go inside—unless you want all those popcorn kernels to stick to you.”

He squeezed my hip. “What about you?” he asked, and it took great effort not to squirm beneath his gaze. “What if I don’t want you to track mud all over the house?”

I lifted my shoulders in a shrug, helpless. “Guess I’ll stay outside.”

“I’d rather you come inside and pick up the mess you made.”

I hummed. “That’s fair.”

“But I think I should be hosed off too, don’t you?” His voice was low and smooth, his fingers toying with the hem of my shirt. “I wouldn’t want to make a bigger mess.”

My breaths quickened. I didn’t know what I was doing, but I wanted it. I wanted to feel something, wrap myself in something other than grief. Wrap myself in him.

Pressing up onto my knees, I leaned over him and pushed the handle of the hose on. He lay still beneath me, the water cold beneath my touch as I ran my fingers through his golden strands. I dragged my nails along his scalp, and he let out a quiet groan, fueling my courage.

“I’m going to clean your shirt now,” I warned before I settled onto his waist, bringing the hose with me. He winced, his frame tightening at the cold shock of water. But he made no move to stop me as I rubbed my hand over his chest. I frowned at the mess. “I think we might be better off throwing this one in the wash—”

“Take it off.” His voice was a gritty rasp.

He sat up, and I gasped at the feel of his chest against mine, water seeping from his clothes into mine. Fingers shaking, I slipped them beneath his shirt as Nolan raised his arms. I peeled it off him, tossing it somewhere behind me.

Focusing on the task at hand, I brought the hose to his chest, water trickling down his frame and onto our laps. I wiped away the dirt and grass, surprised how much had snuck through his shirt. His frame was rigid, his stomach rising faster with every pass I made, his skin beginning to turn blue .

Somehow sensing I was about to tell him he’d have better luck in the shower, he murmured, “I’m still dirty.”

I let out a choked laugh, but instead of calling him a sneaky bastard, I scrubbed harder. Shamelessly, I ran my gaze over him, absorbed how much he’d changed. His skin was firm, cut and grooved. He’d been the same in high school, but there was something sturdier to him now that he’d stepped fully into adulthood.

My heart didn’t seem to notice the changes.

Shivering, I was running the water over him for one final rinse when I noticed I’d missed something. “What . . .” I rubbed my thumb over his chest, but it didn’t wipe away. A tattoo.

It was small and fine lined, barely the size of my palm. It was on the inner corner of his left chest, and mine tightened when I understood what it was. The outline of a peach, and beside it was another. Only this one was smaller . . .

Eyes burning, I looked up at Nolan. “A baby peach.”

I thought I might’ve seen nervousness in his eyes. “I should’ve told you.” He curled his fingers into my hair, bringing my forehead to his as we shared heavy breaths. “I should’ve told you more how much you meant to me. How much you both mean to me.”

I kissed him, silencing him before he could say more. I’d heard enough. I didn’t care what he hadn’t said in the past—I only cared what he told me now. Our kiss was slow, tender. It was hello. I’m sorry. I found you. I missed you. It was acceptance.

When Nolan didn’t try to deepen the kiss, I pulled back, understanding why. Lightly, I traced my fingers over his cheeks. “I don’t want to run from you anymore . . . but I can’t promise I’ll be able to stay.”

I’d built a life outside of Wallowpine. But it’d been crafted out of guilt and fear. The need to prove myself. I’d been stagnant, held back by the ties of my past. I didn’t want that life, but I wasn’t sure what I did want.

He played with the ends of my hair, wrapping a curl around his finger. “The month’s not over yet and you still have the fundraiser . . . and I just think if you’re going to be here, Indy, we should spend the rest of that time together. Truly together.” His throat bobbed, his voice nothing more than a murmur. “Nothing about our plan has to change. At this end of this, we’ll still say goodbye.”

I’d known that was the plan, and that goodbye was inevitable, but panic raced through me at the thought of never seeing Nolan again. Before I could voice that or wonder why he’d so easily accepted the idea of goodbye, he whispered in a tender caress, “You don’t have to promise me forever. Just give me today and however many tomorrows you’re willing to give. And if there comes a time those days end, I’ll be grateful for what I had.”

I searched his gaze, finding not even a flicker of hesitation or doubt. He was telling me he’d be okay. When I returned to New York for my interview, and our paths parted ways, we’d both be okay. I’d molded my life around others, blinded by grief. I was still finding my way out of it. And I couldn’t promise him a future I couldn’t see.

I could promise him today.

I leaned forward as he did, meeting in the middle. His lips were soft, welcoming. But with each shared breath, the tenderness slowly diminished. I set my hands on his jaw, deepening the kiss as Nolan groaned. The last of his patience gone, he banded one arm around my back, and I wrapped my legs around his waist as he stood, making his way to the house.

We stumbled inside, and I laughed as he almost slipped on a popcorn kernel. My laugh ended in a gasp as he pressed me against the wall, his mouth on my neck. “I should shower first,” I panted. “I don’t want to get mud all over your house—”

“After.” He nipped at my jaw. “We’ll shower after.”

Fire coursed through me at the need in his voice. I was as desperate for him as he was for me. I tightened my legs around his waist, his mouth on mine as I ran my hands over his frame, making up for all the times I’d wanted to touch him but couldn’t.

Needing more, I reached for his belt, the buckle clinking as I undid it. My fingers shook as I fumbled with the button, not moving fast enough. I unfastened it, silently rejoicing, just as Nolan grabbed my hand .

Undeterred, I used my free hand and grabbed his zipper. Just as I began to pull it down, my feet were on the ground and Nolan was tugging his belt off. Before I could understand what was going on, he looped the belt around my wrists and pinned them above my head with one hand.

I let out a quiet moan when he murmured, “Keep your hands up here, peaches. Let me make you feel good.” He smirked as he looked me over, the temperature of my skin rising. I loved this side of him. When he was confident, bold. It reminded me of when we used to dance, when he’d mold my body beneath his hands. His gaze met mine, assessing if I was okay with this. “You trust me to make you feel good?”

I nodded, giving him the permission he sought. “Yes.”

His hand and the belt were loose enough I could’ve tried to slip free, but I had no desire to. A stubborn part of me wanted to protest—but I loved it. I was happy to let Nolan take charge; I trusted him.

I stirred against the wall, shivering as he pressed a kiss to the shell of my ear. “Nolan,” I rasped as he left another kiss, seemingly in no hurry. I trusted him, yes—but I was still impatient. “I’ve waited years for you. I can’t wait any longer.”

“Exactly.” He gave my wrists a gentle squeeze. “I’ve waited for years too, Indy.” His lips grazed mine, sharing my air. “I raced through so many moments of my life, trying to get to the big ones . . . and I missed some of the best parts. I’m not rushing this. I’m not rushing you.”

“I’m cold.” If I sounded needy, I didn’t care. I wanted him. “My clothes are dripping onto your floor.”

“I’ll warm you up.”

His lips found mine again, and I melted into him as he kissed me slowly, purposefully. His hands roamed my body, teasing me. True to his word, he made no move to hasten this along, as though content to kiss me deep into the night. But I stopped trying to coax him into going faster. He was right. We’d been so focused on the future, dead set on getting there as fast we could, we’d missed what could’ve been some of the best moments of our lives.

He slipped his fingers beneath my shirt and lifted it over my head, leaving it tangled on my bound hands. He kissed my shoulder, my breasts, leaving a trail of passion as he traveled down my frame. He knelt, and I shuddered a breath as he slid off my pants, taking my boots with them. I gasped, head falling against the wall as he kissed his way up my body, leaving no spot untouched. Desire pulsed through my veins, pushing me higher and higher. I dragged my bottom lip between my teeth, shivering as he stood, greedily looking me over. I was more than aware how much my body had changed since he’d last seen me this way, but one look at the admiration in his eyes told me he didn’t mind.

He wasn’t looking at me for what I wasn’t. Searching for who I used to be.

He was looking at me like I was his salvation.

At last his restraint gave in, and his lips crashed against mine. I slipped my wrists out of the belt, and he murmured my name against my mouth as he kicked off his boots, this time not protesting when I pushed off his pants. They clattered to the ground, and he stepped out of them, his hands gripping my hips.

He lifted me up, and I hooked my legs around his waist as he carried me down the hall. Reaching back, I twisted the handle of the door, and Nolan kicked it open. It hit the wall with a thud, and we shared a breathless laugh when Genny scrambled out of the room.

He lowered me onto his bed, and I brought him with me, gasping at the delicious pressure of his body atop mine. We kissed and kissed, slowly unwinding and becoming something together. So consumed in one another, I couldn’t remember what existed outside this room. Couldn’t focus on anything but his mouth on my breasts, his fingers knotted in my hair. The marks my fingers left on his skin, how my name tasted on his lips. I was so wrapped up in him, in the decadent feelings he was giving me, it took me a moment to fully grasp what I was doing.

It was because this, being with Nolan, was the most natural thing in the world. It was why I’d never felt at ease in New York, or even Ohio. Why I’d felt lost and aimless for years. Why, when I’d gone back to my parents’ place, it hadn’t felt like coming home. Nolan had always been that for me. He was my shelter, my peace, my best friend. He was the light you went to sleep to, the kind you woke up to. The kind you were sure was always there .

He was my North Star.

“Nolan,” I whispered, and something in my tone urged him to stop.

Tenderly, he left a parting kiss on my hip, inching his way up my frame. He hovered over me, his arms caging me in. His skin was feverish, his chest rising and falling with hurried breaths.

But he looked at me with an easy smile, watching, waiting. The longer I looked into those blue eyes, the more compelled I was to share what I’d just felt. What I’d always felt. But those words were scary. They were a promise. They were a step toward forever, toward a future I couldn’t see. But I wanted him to know. Needed him to understand how much he was worth.

He must’ve seen it, must’ve felt as I did. “I know,” he murmured. “I know, Indy.”

My heart burned, and though we didn’t voice it, I knew what this was. It was as sure as his body against mine. I brought his lips back to mine, and as we made our way together and fell into a steady rhythm, I realized what we’d once had wasn’t lost. It was hidden. Slowly, step by step, we were finding our way back to one another.