6. Chapter Six

Chapter Six

Nolan — Now

“ C ome on .” I dumped a container onto the concrete floor, grinding my teeth when I realized it was more camping supplies. I set the empty tub with the others, pieces of my brothers’ and my childhood scattered on the shed floor. I might’ve taken the time to appreciate the memories had I not seen it all a few weeks ago when we’d cleaned the shed out to turn it into my workspace. I put a foot on the shelf railing and heaved myself up, finding nothing but wood shavings and dust.

Where had I put it?

I glanced at my worktable, and one look at the box tucked in the corner had me feeling like a fool. If I hadn’t come home in such a panic, I would’ve looked there first. I hopped down and grabbed the box. It was the size of a shoebox—if it had been stomped on a few times. The wood was warped, the stain uneven. It was the ugliest thing I’d ever made.

It made for the best hiding spot.

I lifted the lid, a splinter snagging in my thumb. Mouth dry, I stared at the amber liquid within the glass bottle, set atop the other keepsakes I’d hidden. After an hour of searching, I should’ve been relieved I’d found it. But the longer I stared at the bottle of whiskey, the more empty-handed I felt. I needed something else. Something stronger .

But I couldn’t have it anymore.

I pulled into the shop parking lot and shifted the truck into park. Ignoring the burning desire to look down the street, I shoved on my hat and stepped outside. I was halfway across the lot, focusing on my breathing, when the front door chimed open and Jake said, “Well, ain’t this a surprise. I wasn’t expecting you to stumble your ass in here this morning.”

I made a noncommittal noise. The fact he was here an hour before opening told me he’d thought I wouldn’t show. After staying up most of the night carving chess pieces, I’d considered it. But staying home wouldn’t get rid of this pressure in my chest. “I should have you arrested for breaking into my store,” I muttered as I passed him.

“I work here.”

“Time to retire.”

I continued forward to the office in the back, switched on the lights, and shook my head at the mess I’d left behind. Papers and boxes were scattered about, both from me deciding it was time to stop pushing off the inevitable and sort through what was left over from when Dad owned the business and from me leaving in a hurry yesterday. I grabbed a box, not because I preferred to throw myself into work first thing in the morning, but because I thought it might deter Jake from staring at me from the doorway.

“We gonna talk about it?” he pressed, and it wasn’t because he couldn’t take a hint. Jake loved being a pain in my ass. “That’s fine. I can wait. I don’t have better things to do.”

“You could be working.” I laughed, unable to help myself. He was the worst employee I’d ever had. Graham—Bait and Game was a family business. My grandfather started it, and Dad inherited it from him. I’d never imagined filling those shoes myself, but when Dad died almost three years ago from a heart attack, it had landed on my and my brothers’ shoulders. We’d run it together for a time. Even Shay, Brooks’s wife, had stepped in to help. But as time went on, so did life. My younger brother, Levi, was away at art school in Boston, and Brooks was busy with a career in the Forest Service. Plus, he was a family man now. Everyone was moving forward.

And I was here.

“Speaking of calling the police . . .” Jake leaned against the doorframe, his build wiry beneath his stained jeans and flannel. “You didn’t happen to call them last night, did you?”

I stared blankly at a spreadsheet, not seeing a damn thing. “I did not.”

He hummed under his breath, and any other day I would’ve waited to hear what he might say, but I’d rather get this over with. “Indy’s here to help her parents, there’s nothing more than that. I don’t know why she got arrested.” I’d only called Indy’s dad to let him know she’d been arrested, not to ask him why.

“Oh, I’m sure we can both agree it was someone being petty and dragging up the past.”

The past had been dragged up, all right. And it was taking everything in me not to suffocate in it. It was then I understood why Jake was here. We’d seen each other at our lowest. Some days, it felt like we were still there. He was trying to make sure I didn’t get lost again. “Indy and I are still married.”

He raised his brows, rubbing a hand through his scrappy gray beard as he absorbed the information. Pressing his lips into a hard line, he pulled out a chair and sat, quietly listening as I gave him the rundown on last night. It wasn’t until I finished reading the letter Dad wrote us that he said, “Your dad always had a funny sense of humor.”

“Sense of humor?” I clenched out. “Not only did he steal my divorce papers and shred them—but he sent out a damn fake paper confirming our divorce. He should be rotting in jail.”

“Kind of hard for a dead man to sit behind bars.” Jake didn’t miss a beat, and I wasn’t even mad. He had a real talent for always calling it as it was, as had his late wife, Wren. It was probably why they’d gotten along with Dad so well. “So what are you going to do about it?”

“What do you mean, what are you going to do about it?” I tossed the papers on my desk. “I’m going to divorce Indy. That’s what. ”

“Nothing he said mattered?”

“Nope.” He was referring to the letter Dad had written specifically to me. “It doesn’t matter, because if it did, he would’ve told me the truth when he was alive. He wouldn’t have chosen the coward’s way out and written it in a letter for me to find who knows when. He would’ve told me when it counted, not when it’s too late.”

He let out a deep breath, and I could see by the way he watched me, he was carefully choosing his words. “Your dad was many things, but a coward wasn’t one of them. I’m not saying what he did was right, but I imagine he had his reasons—”

“He had no right.”

“I’m not saying he did,” Jake said, his voice rising. “We both know how you were before your dad died, Nolan. You weren’t exactly reachable, not when you were bound and determined to destroy every last good thing you had. And maybe your dad felt just desperate enough to do something stupid—but did you ever stop to think he did it because he thought it might work?” I shook my head, not wanting to hear a lick of what he had to say. But he didn’t care. “Maybe he planned to tell you. Or he thought when either you or Indy came to your senses he’d own up to what he’d done. He might’ve written those letters when he realized it was too late and he couldn’t tell you the truth. I don’t know. That’s the truth—none of us will ever know. But what we do know is the why . He told you why. And that’s because what you and Indy had was—”

“Terrible,” I finished for him. “We were like fire and gasoline together, and I’d never put either of us through that again.” I laughed, the sound dry and empty. “Why would you even want me to? When it all goes to hell again, do you want me to go back to how it was before? Staying out all night, drinking all day? I was a selfish prick—”

“You still are,” Jake muttered, and at that, I cracked a smile. Maybe I was—but I was different now. I made time for my family. I ran the business. I didn’t drink, and most nights I went to bed at nine. I didn’t pick fights. I told all the right jokes. Hell, every once in a blue moon, I dragged my ass to church.

I was a changed man .

But I was not naive enough to believe I’d survive Indy again.

“I’d do anything for a second chance.” The longing in his voice was enough to make me pause. Enough to make me look at the man who longed for someone . His hair was gray, mirroring the scruff along his jaw. His skin was tan and loose, deep crow’s feet beside his eyes. Jake could be a thorn in my side, but losing his wife had taken a toll on him. I’d seen it.

“That’s different,” I said, reminding myself of the truth. “You and Wren were married for forty years. I can’t even tell you how long Indy and I were married, given most our marriage was spent apart.”

“Nine years.” He coughed into his sleeve, and when I gave him a confused look, he said, “You’re still married. If my math’s correct, I’d say you guys are nine years and counting.”

“Just because you’re old doesn’t mean I won’t kick your ass,” I muttered, half considering it when he grinned. “The point is, you and Wren deserve a second chance. You deserved more than a lifetime together, and I’m sorry you didn’t get it. But Indy and I don’t deserve one.”

Jake was seventy years old, but I’d grown up with him and his wife. They were as family as you could be without blood. Wren had been a force of life, one who’d left her mark before she passed away from cancer nearly two years ago. My brother and sister-in-law had even named their daughter after her. It was people like her and Jake who deserved second chances.

Not me.

“Fine.” He seemed to accept the truth. He and Wren had had a once-in-a-lifetime love, and I was glad he didn’t try to say what Indy and I had was the same. Our love was impatient, wild, and we’d let it consume us until it nearly broke us both. “You want to be a sorry bastard, fine. I can’t stop you.”

I raised my arms, helpless. “You act like this is all on me. She wants this divorce just as bad as I do.”

I might’ve been the one who initiated the divorce, but both our fingers had been on the trigger—I just happened to be the one to squeeze first. And Indy coming into town like a hurricane last night proved how badly she wanted out.

Who was I to stop her ?

“Why do you do that? Take yourself out of the game before it’s even begun?” Jake asked, his voice quiet. “This is a second chance, Nolan. But maybe you’re looking at it wrong. Instead of seeing it as a chance to fix your marriage, why don’t you look at it as a chance to do right by Indy? You can fix some wounds, at least make them bearable. That girl hasn’t come home in years, and did you ever truly ask yourself why? This could be your chance to say goodbye.” He stood, apparently ready to work, but not before he said, “If anything, this is an opportunity to do right by your dad.”

He closed the door behind him, leaving me to stew in those words alone. Indy and I were finished. If the years apart weren’t confirmation enough, the way she’d looked at me last night was. There’d been no love—or even longing—in her eyes, and I didn’t blame her. I had chased that out of her.

But maybe . . . maybe Jake wasn’t wrong. Maybe I could correct my wrongs, ease the damage done and say goodbye properly.

Because beyond Indy, my biggest regret was how I’d left things with Dad.

With a sigh, I grabbed the letter off my desk and began again.

Nolan,

Depending on the order you opened these letters, you’re either mad as hell or pleasantly surprised. I bet it’s the former.

So let me start by apologizing. I’m sorry.

This may be a surprise, but I don’t always know how to be the best father. You’re all three so different, and oftentimes it felt like I was throwing anything out and seeing what might stick. Sometimes I think I’ve done a damn good job.

But some things have slipped through the cracks. I know your mom leaving has left an impact on all of us. I see it in Brooks, and I imagine I’ll see it in Levi as he continues to grow up. I see it in you, Nolan.

We don’t talk about it often, and that’s my fault—but I loved your mom. Part of me always will. We had our fair share of good and bad times, and I worry you were so young when she skipped town that you only remember the fact that she left.

I worry you believe when things get hard—you run.

We’ve had our fair share of arguments. One of them being that I should’ve fought to keep your mom from leaving. And son, I did. There was a time when I would’ve given anything to keep our family together.

But I couldn’t fight alone.

And when it came down to it, and I saw it was affecting my kids, I chose a different fight. I chose my boys, and I will continue to do so. You three are my everything.

That’s the type of love you fight for.

Years ago, when you sat on my couch and told me you wanted to marry Indy, I supported you. Everyone questioned my judgment, but I didn’t care—I trusted you. I saw how much you two loved each other. I see it now. Which is why I can’t stand by and support this, especially when I know it’s not what either of you want.

I’m not saying it’ll be easy. It’ll hurt like hell, but I can’t understand how you two went from being each other’s air—to not being able to face one another. I think it’s because you’re scared. You’ve both been cut down to the bone, and you’re afraid if you take one more hit, you won’t survive. So you’d rather not love at all than face it all again.

But I dare you to take a step. To fight for your wife, and the life you both deserve. It’ll hurt, and there may be wounds that never fully heal. But that pain? It’s worth it. I promise. Stop letting your past define you and claim your future instead. Or at least have the courage to face her when you call it quits.

You’re a grown man, and you’re not obligated to listen to me. But I’d like to make a deal with you: if you try and at least repair your relationship with Indy, I’ll help you buy the bar. I know you think I’ve stopped believing in you, but I haven’t. I’ve been setting aside money for you, and when the time is right, it’s yours.

Dad

I leaned back in my chair and stared at the ceiling, not knowing what to think. In less than twenty-four hours, I’d gone through a marathon of emotions. Anger, grief, sorrow, confusion. I felt it all.

Most of all, regret.

When I lost Indy, I slipped into a dark place. I drank more than I ever had. I stayed out all night. Slept all day. I screwed Dad over with work more times than I could count. I was a miserable bastard, and I didn’t care who I brought down with me. Sometimes I wondered if I wanted to drag everyone down, so I wouldn’t be alone.

Dad never gave up on me, no matter how many times I wished he would. It took him dying, and my brothers fighting like hell, to pull me out of it. I didn’t deserve a second chance. But I’d do anything to do right by Dad.

Even if it killed me.