46. Chapter Forty-Six

Chapter Forty-Si x

Indy — Now

I ’d thought I’d lost this forever.

I lay beside Nolan on the roof outside my childhood bedroom window, his hand in mine. The moon was bright, the air was warm, and if I listened closely, I’d catch snippets of the breeze shifting through the pine trees. We’d shared many nights like this as teenagers. When Mom and I fought, or I needed a reminder there was more outside this town, I’d climb out my bedroom window and lie on the roof. Nolan had gotten so used to me doing it that instead of walking through the front door, he’d grab a ladder from the back and join me. It was such a simple thing.

Simple . . . yet I knew how lucky I was to do it again.

“Thank you for driving me to the hospital.” I hadn’t realized I’d eaten a peach until after I’d downed half a slice and my tongue was swelling. I hadn’t eaten one since college, when I had a reaction bad enough I’d spent the day in the student health center. Even though my reaction at Shay’s was mild, and the Epi-Pen had worked successfully, Nolan had insisted on taking me to get checked out. “I’m sorry for not telling you,” I said, assuming that was why he hadn’t responded .

He peeked open one eye, and I was grateful for the humor in his voice. “Is there a reason you didn’t? Seems like kind of a weird thing to keep from me. How is it that Shay knew you had an allergy to peaches but I didn’t?”

“It came up while we were baking pies.” I smiled as I thought of today. When Shay offered to help with last-minute decoration things for the fundraiser, I’d almost declined. Lisa had been busy, and I didn’t mind working alone. Sometimes it was easier. But for whatever reason, I said yes, and I’d had a good day. “It’s not something I really bring up to anyone. It’s not a big deal.”

“It was a big deal to me watching you struggle to breathe, Indy.” His voice was quieter than before. “I-I don’t like feeling that helpless. Not with you.”

“I didn’t mean to keep it from you,” I told him honestly. “It’s just . . . if I tell you, you’re going to think I’m a moron and push me off the roof.”

He twisted onto his side, facing me. “I might dangle you by your foot, but I promise I won’t drop you.”

He raised his brow expectantly, and I covered my face with my hands. “You remember when we first met? Well, not met-met. Obviously we’ve known each other since kindergarten, but remember the first time we really talked?”

“Of course I do.”

I smiled at the fondness in his voice. “Well, it was the first time you called me peaches. And I don’t know . . . it made me feel special. I guess I thought it meant you liked peaches, so I’d eat a tiny bit every now and then so you’d like me too.”

I groaned, hearing how ridiculous it sounded aloud. Sure, Indy. Let’s hinder your airway in hopes of making a boy like you! Yay!

“I don’t think I’ve ever thought you tasted like a peach. So if you’ve been secretly eating peaches, rubbing them on your lips or whatever you were doing, I didn’t notice.” Nolan let out a low laugh, prying my hands from my face. “Growing up, you were always getting in trouble. You were a little sour, if you will, but I thought you were sweet too. Remember freshman year when you hid a toad in Bethany’s backpack? Everyone felt bad for her, but that was only because they hadn’t overheard her ten minutes before, telling Charlie she’d rather go on a date with a toad than him. You must’ve heard her too—it’s why you put the toad in her bag and hugged Charlie before you went to detention. And that night, when we truly talked for the first time, I realized you were like a peach. Sweet and sour.”

He soothed a wild curl behind my ear, leaving a featherlight kiss on my lips. “Peaches are delicious though . . . And just so you know, I’ve never cared if I get a sweet or a sour one. I love them just the same.”

My heart raced, and I knew it was silly, but I wanted nothing more than to kiss him. To push him through my bedroom window and show him just how sweet and sour I could be. Better yet, I’d show him right here on the roof. Alas, I held firm, my voice flat. “Just think—if you’d nicknamed me Sour Patch Kids, or even sweet and sour chicken, I never would’ve put my health at risk.”

He let out a breathy laugh. “Fine. I’m changing your name to sweet and—”

I put my hand over his mouth, laughing too. “No—you can’t. Please don’t ever stop calling me peaches. I love it.”

Nolan raised a brow, but he just kissed the palm of my hand before lowering it between us. “Only if you promise to never get within fifty feet of a peach again.”

“I promise.”

He smiled, and I did too, but despite the lightheartedness of our conversation, I couldn’t help but think of when we’d made a different promise. Not when we’d vowed to love one another for the rest of our lives, but the promise that came after that. When we promised it was only a break; it wasn’t forever.

“Why did you divorce me?” My voice was calm, steady. I’d tortured myself enough, wondering why Nolan sent those divorce papers when we’d promised it wouldn’t go that way. “Was it because some small part of you blamed me for what happened—”

“Never, Indy.”

I nodded, hearing the sincerity in his words. He’d gone out of his way to assure me he didn’t blame me. Not for the miscarriage, nor for his career being cut short. I could only hope that, over time, my guilt would ease into acceptance.

“It was time to move on,” he admitted in a low voice, shaking his head. “When we separated, I hoped it wasn’t over. There was no future I could imagine that you weren’t in. I thought some time apart would do us good. Help me get my footing again.” His frame was tense, and I could tell by the way he avoided my gaze, he didn’t want to have this conversation. But I was grateful he was willing to try. “But the longer we were apart, and the darker my days seemed to get . . . I had to accept I was avoiding the inevitable. The life we’d envisioned together was gone, and I needed to let it go. Let you go.”

My eyes burned. Why did his explanation hurt so bad? I would’ve preferred it if he’d filed for divorce out of anger, or because he’d met someone else. At least then there would’ve been some sort of catalyst. But he’d let go because he believed there was nothing left to hold on to. Maybe there wasn’t.

But I would’ve held on to him forever.

Even now, I was holding on to scraps. What we were doing . . . it was reckless. It had been days since either of us acknowledged what was coming. When we’d sign papers and go our separate ways once and for all. If I was smarter, I’d end this now. But whether I left tonight or in two weeks, I’d be doing it with a broken heart.

But for now, I wanted to feel something. Wanted to claim this tiny sliver of time as ours . For years, I’d put others’ needs above my own, and denied myself my own desires and needs. I’d worry about the pain later.

“I’m sorry.” Nolan met my gaze then, and the sorrow there was enough to make my chest split. There was guilt, even a hopelessness I hadn’t seen in a long while. I didn’t understand where it had come from, nor did I understand why it felt like he was pulling away. “I’m sorry for all the things I didn’t say or do. I’m sorry for hesitating and not holding on. For not fighting for you, for leaving you alone in your pain—”

I put a finger to his lips, shaking my head. I didn’t want to hear those words. They sounded like the start of a goodbye, and that wasn’t what this was. Right now, nothing existed outside of us.

It wasn’t time for goodbye. Not yet.