36. Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Six
Nolan — Now
I was walking a fine line.
As I drove back into town, I knew I was edging over that invisible line. I was pushing too hard, asking too much. The sun was peeking beneath the tree line, a sign I’d already taken more than enough of Indy’s day. Both with speed dating and our actual date. Plus, she’d given me something worth more than her time.
She’d given me a piece of herself, a piece she’d stashed away and hidden. I didn’t quite understand what it was, or what had happened today, but I was close to uncovering it.
I wanted more.
But I couldn’t be selfish, this couldn’t be rushed. I started toward Indy’s parents’ house, just as she said, “Would it be alright if we went to your place for bit?”
I rubbed my jaw, fighting off a grin. “Yeah. Do we need to stop by your folks’ and grab Genny?”
Her eyes widened. “Are you asking me to spend the night on our first date? ”
“What? No!” I stammered. I’d never once thought that. Although . . . now I was thinking about it. And I liked it. Liked it a whole lot— Dammit, no. Control yourself. You are a grown man. Not a sixteen-year-old boy. “I was not—”
“Relax. I was kidding.” Indy set her hand over mine, her lips twitching with a smile. “If it’s okay with you, you can take me home to Genny in a little bit.” I nodded, nearly giving in and asking her about Genny. Namely when she’d stopped being able to sleep without our cat and why. I had suspicions, but I’d rather Indy open up to me willingly and not because I pried.
We pulled up to my house, and I shelved my curiosity for later, eager to get inside. But Indy lingered in the cab, and I gathered she was second-guessing herself. Instead of asking me to take her home, she said, “Your flower beds are sad.”
“My flower beds . . .” I followed her gaze to where, sure enough, my flower beds were . . . nothing but a tangle of weeds. “Honestly, I forgot those existed until this very second. You’re welcome to plant something if you’d like—they do look kind of sad.”
“Really? I’ve only done my parents’ garden. And I haven’t done it in years, so I might not be good—”
“Indy Tyler.” I grabbed her hand on the center console, giving it a good squeeze. “Would you please do me the honor of planting me a flower bed? Even better than the one at your parents’.”
“You really want one?” she asked, and when I told her I did, the surprise and joy in her eyes was enough I wished I’d offered her a dozen flower beds from the get-go. “Okay, yes. I’ll have to do some research, see what plants do best in this environment, and then you can tell me what you want. And I’ll go through my parents’ gardening tools tomorrow—”
“I’ve got some tools in the back shed. Why don’t we go through them right now?” I offered, clinging to the excitement bursting through her. “You don’t need to run it by me, I trust your judgment. And I’m paying for everything.” She opened her mouth, surely about to protest, so I added, “Please, Indy? You’re doing me a favor by fixing them up. The least I can do is foot the bill. ”
She bit her lip, falling quiet. “You promise you’ll take care of them? I don’t want to do this if they’re just going to die.”
Shame raced through me as I thought of her parents’ garden, how it would’ve felt for her to come home and find it unattended, forgotten. “I promise.” She scanned me, as though searching for hesitation. A deep sense of pride burned through me when she nodded, silently trusting me.
I’d keep her trust.
I unlocked the gate to the backyard and led her to my work shed. Flipping on the lights, I headed to the back corner where I stored my tools. After we’d deep cleaned the shed, I wasn’t sure what we’d kept or donated, but I hoped I had at least one thing she could use. “What do you think about this?” I grabbed a tool off the back shelf, assuming it to be a tiller. “Indy?”
She only hummed, and I turned to face her, realizing she was distracted. I’d been so caught up and excited for Indy, it hadn’t occurred to me I was bringing her into my workspace.
She stood behind my chair, as though keeping her distance as she stared at the half-finished project sitting on my worktable. It was a coffee table I was making for a couple in Hillshire. A coffee table didn’t usually give me trouble, but they’d wanted the legs to resemble tree trunks, and it had taken me time. Thankfully, I’d finished it last night, and all I had left to do was stain the wood.
“Why don’t you come look at these?” I tried, not because I didn’t want to share this with her, but I’d rather her see it when it was finished, as perfect as it could be. “Pretty sure I saw some pruners—”
“I just can’t believe it.”
I cleared my throat, and I wished she would turn and face me, if only so I could understand her disbelief. “What do you mean?”
“Please don’t take this the wrong way, but you were always the athlete in the family. Levi’s the artist. But here you are, creating art. I had no idea you were capable—or even interested—in doing something like this.” She twisted on her heel to face me, beaming. If I let myself think about it long enough, I almost believed she was proud of me. “I guess I’m wondering what made you start in the first place? ”
I rubbed the back of my neck, uncomfortable. I knew I had no reason to be. Next to Dad, Indy had always been my greatest support, on and off the baseball field. But I’d played because I loved it, and by chance I happened to be good at it. But this . . . this was deeper than passion or skill.
Indy must’ve seen I was about to cop out, as she gave me a teasing smile. “I thought you were done holding back, Nolan?”
I let out a low laugh, wanting nothing more than to kiss that smirk off her lips. She was challenging me, daring me. And as uncomfortable as I might be, I refused to let her win. “When I officially quit drinking, everything I’d been avoiding hit me straight on. I had to face a lot of shit, and my therapist told me if I didn’t find an outlet, I might turn back to drinking.” I toed my boot against the concrete floor. “Before Dad died . . . he told me something. Told me my life wasn’t over. I could make something out of what I’d lost.”
It didn’t matter how many times I fell, how many times he had to drag me to my feet. Dad had always believed in me. Continuing on, I said, “He’d already passed when I started therapy, but I decided to take Dad’s words literally and picked up woodworking. I started with box building. Thought it would be easy, but it was harder than I anticipated. I was clueless. But I kept going, kept learning. As time went on, I found myself looking forward to it. I’d watch tutorials at the shop, learning what I could. And then I’d spend all night in my shed, practicing. When I finally finished, I was so excited—I’d never really made anything with my bare hands. But when I got a real good look at it, I realized I’d made the ugliest thing I’d ever seen. I swore I was done.”
I cracked a laugh, remembering my shocked disappointment. I’d been working so hard, I’d somehow fooled myself into believing I was the next Paul Sellers—when I’d barely managed to scrape together a box. It was crooked and warped. The lid didn’t even fit.
Indy smiled at me from across the room, a quiet fondness to her voice. “But you didn’t quit.”
I shook my head, my heart burning. “Every morning, I swore I was done. But every night when I got home, I’d come out here and try again. The more I saw that box, the more I saw the energy and time I’d put into it. It was the most I’d cared about anything in years. And then I finally understood what Dad meant. Without meaning to, I’d taken my pain, my grief, and I’d shaped it. Now when I see it, all I think of is him. And it doesn’t hurt. Just reminds me how much he loved me. How much he believed in me.”
I shoved my hands in my pockets, not sure what to expect. It was the second time I’d admitted to her I was in therapy. I’d gotten to the point where I didn’t go often, just every few months to check in and adjust my medication if necessary. As a kid, I’d never had to question myself around Indy. I didn’t have to hide from her. But it had been a long time since I’d felt that way. Since I’d been that vulnerable and open with someone outside my therapist and brothers.
But I knew as sure as the day Indy stumbled upon me in the forest all those years ago, I’d put my trust in the right person. She smiled at me, blinking fast as she fought the brewing emotion in her eyes. She wasn’t watching me with sadness, or even pity. She was looking at me like I’d painted the whole sky, strung the stars and the moon.
For her, I would.
She shifted on her feet, and I could tell by the way she bit her lip, she was itching to say something. But Indy had a keen sense, somehow always knowing what I needed. Pulling out the chair, she motioned to my worktable. “Show me more.”
I did as she asked, taking a seat. When she made to give me space, I put my hand on her waist. She glanced over her shoulder, and I widened my legs, patting my knee.
She narrowed those honey-brown eyes into a glare, and I winked. If she wanted more from me, I wanted more too. Either she was truly curious about woodworking or she wanted to play as badly as I did, but she straddled my leg and sat down, facing the table.
Knowing Indy would have no problem wedging a chisel in my eye, I resisted her enticing heat and scooted us closer to the table. I went through my tools and explained their purpose, the difference between carving and whittling. If she was bored when I told her butternut was my favorite wood—but difficult to find—she didn’t let it show, seeming to glow with everything I gave her .
“I never would’ve thought of you doing this.” There was quiet awe in her voice. Before I could tell her it wasn’t that impressive, she spun on my leg, better facing me. “Do you remember during junior year when you bribed Levi with twenty bucks and a twelve-pack of Mountain Dew in exchange for him doing your art final? But your dad found out and grounded you from going to the winter formal with me.”
I tipped my head back in a laugh, remembering the look on Dad’s face when Mrs. Roland called him, claiming his son had a real future in art. He’d beamed with pride . . . up until he’d realized she was talking about me and not his eleven-year-old son.
I smiled at Indy, and when she smiled back, I was overwhelmed with gratitude. Losing Dad had been hard, and there were times I’d thought it would kill me. In a way, I still had him. I had our memories, the foundation he’d left. I had my brothers, and for us he still existed. But the more time passed, the more people stopped talking about him at all. I knew it was because they didn’t know how to handle it, and sometimes it was easier to say nothing at all.
But not to Indy. To her, Dad still lived.
Adjusting herself on my leg, Indy slid a hand over my shoulder. Her fingers toyed absentmindedly with my collar, and it was taking everything in me to focus on her words. “Since I haven’t officially asked you... Would you be willing to donate one of your carvings as a raffle prize for the fundraiser? It could be anything you want.”
“Of course,” I told her, not needing to think about it. I wanted to help Indy in any way I could. I knew how much effort she’d put into this. Just last night, she and Lisa had driven to Hillshire to hand out fliers to spread the word about the fundraiser. They’d even gotten twenty more vendors to sign up. But there was one thing I didn’t understand. “Can I ask why you’re doing this? Why try and help the sports program of a school you no longer attend?” And it was no secret this town hadn’t always been kind to her.
Indy shrugged, as though she hadn’t really put much thought into why she was helping. “I like seeing people win. ”
I wasn’t surprised her reasoning was as simple as that. She was a natural cheerleader. She might not have sought it out for the right reasons, but there was no doubt Indy would be a fantastic sports agent if she continued down that route. She was always putting everyone’s needs above her own, ready to help them succeed.
Just once, I’d like to see Indy get everything she wanted.
“Okay,” she said before I could continue down that thought, and she turned her attention back to my worktable, surprising me. We’d been here for at least an hour, and every minute I expected her to get bored and leave, but she seemed content. I was eyeing the box on the back corner of my table, considering showing Indy what was inside when she asked, “Now that I know carving and whittling are not the same thing, which one do you prefer?”
“Whittling.” She raised a brow. “It’s simple. I only need some wood and a knife, and I’m good to go. I can do it anywhere. And I don’t know, there’s something kind of freeing to it. When I’m carving, I have a plan I’m trying to follow. But with whittling, I’m usually going in blind and seeing where it leads me.”
She stared at me, like something about my response had caught her off guard. “I don’t think I could do that.” Her gaze dropped to the floor. “I like having plans. I like knowing where I’m going.”
A pit in my stomach grew. She hadn’t always been that way. She’d been a dreamer, never afraid of taking risks. But our world had collapsed beneath our feet—I could see how that would change her perspective. Not knowing where her future lay petrified her.
“It takes practice. I might be freehanding, but there’s still a process. I’m not just making cuts for the hell of it and praying for the best.” I reached around her, letting my fingers skim her shoulder before I grabbed a slim block of oak and placed it in her hands. “I’ll visualize an image in my mind. Think of the grain, the texture. How it feels in my hands.” Gently, I folded her hands around the wood, running her fingertips down the surface. “I’ll focus on its weight. How I can mold and shape it. And slowly, I’ll build an image in my mind . . . and then I allow my instincts to lead me there. ”
Indy’s brows were furrowed as she stared at the block of wood, like it held all the answers in the world. “Tell me what you do again,” she whispered. “I don’t understand.”
“What don’t you understand?”
I thought Indy might not answer, it was so quiet. Then she said, “Imagine you’re in the dark. So dark you can’t see anything. But sometimes . . . sometimes you want to take a step. But you’re afraid. You don’t know how to trust what you’re feeling. How do you know it’s going to lead to something better?”
The silence was tenfold after that, thick enough to cut with a blade. But I heard her loud and clear, everything she’d asked, and hadn’t asked. What she was too afraid to voice aloud.
Indy huffed a dry laugh, raising the wood block between us. “I guess I’m just having a hard time envisioning how I could ever turn this into a cat.”
I cracked a smile. I knew her hesitancy had nothing to do with actual woodworking, but I’d let it slide. “Close your eyes.” She narrowed her eyes, likely ready to protest, so I added, “I’ll close mine too, peaches.”
She pressed her lips together and shifted just a little closer into my frame before shutting her eyes. Before closing mine, I scanned her, ensuring she was comfortable. Her hair was pulled back, a few unruly curls framing her face. Her skin carried a pink hue, sun-kissed from our afternoon outside. Her breaths were steady, her lips parted as she waited, trusting me.
Savoring that feeling of deep pride, I closed my eyes. The lighting in the shed was faint, casting a low hue beyond my eyelids. If not for the pressure on my leg, the balmy feeling of her skin, I would’ve thought I was alone. The more I sat there, unmoving, unseeing, I felt guilty for putting Indy through this.
I was going to come out of my skin.
“Are your eyes closed?” I asked, resisting the urge to open mine.
“Yes.”
I let out a breath, feeling feverish beneath my skin. This was either going to end brilliantly or terribly. I’d done visualization before, both in therapy and when I’d played baseball, but never like this. Not with the sweetest temptation on my lap. “Alright, try and visualize what it is you want. What you’re trying to carve,” I told her, keeping up the ruse. It was easier this way. “You got it?”
“I think so.”
Her voice shook, and something in me clenched. She was afraid. But there was hope in her voice too. She wanted to be where I was, feel what I felt—she just didn’t know how to get there. How to find her way back to herself. Back to us.
I raised my arm, curling a hand around her hip. “Is it alright if I touch you, Indy?”
I couldn’t see her. But I felt every bit of her as she rasped, “Take what you want, Nolan.” Fire raced through me, and I muttered a low curse. She’d given me permission, and I was done waiting.
Needing more space, I opened my eyes and stood in a rush, and Indy gasped as I lifted her off my lap and onto the edge of the table. I stepped between her legs and closed my eyes again, slipping into a world where only we existed. She’s mine. “Good. Now take that image, that thing you want. And I want you to hold it. Don’t worry about how you’re going to make it, or how you’ll get there.” I set my palms on her thighs, emphasizing my words. “Focus on how it feels . . . Is it smooth? Coarse? How does it make you feel inside?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s alright,” I soothed, hearing the quiet frustration in her voice. “I’ll tell you how it is for me.”
Slowly, I let my hands crawl up her thighs, my calluses snagging on the material of her jeans. “Warm, so warm and intriguing. And strength . . . there’s a lot of strength.” I followed the curve of her waist. “The quiet kind, the kind that withstands and keeps going. It makes me want to keep going too.”
Indy’s fingers brushed the outside of my thigh, and I hissed a breath, clenching my jaw. Her hand trailed upward and around, and I might’ve laughed when she touched my ass if I wasn’t close to coming undone.
“Sturdy.” Her fingers pressed into my back, and I said a silent prayer that she’d leave a mark. “Scary. And when I hold it, I’ve never felt more vulnerable. It makes me feel both strong and weak.” Her breaths were short pants, her ribs rising and falling beneath my hands. “Sometimes it hurts,” she choked. “Sometimes it hurts so bad because when I look at it, it reminds me what’s missing.”
My stomach dropped, and I waited for Indy to let go, to walk away. But her hands were on me. She was holding on. “More than that . . . it makes me feel alive. Makes me want to do things I never thought I would again. Gives me a reason to keep going. It doesn’t take away the pain, but it brings me joy too.”
Our breaths were ragged; I wasn’t sure who was breathing harder. Our hands roamed freely. I couldn’t get enough of her, enough of how she made me feel. What she was to me. She wrapped her legs around my waist, and I bowed over her, my forehead against hers.
“More.” Her voice was hoarse. “You make me want more, Nolan.”
“I know.” I slipped a hand into her hair. If either of us cared we’d dropped the ruse, we didn’t let it be known. “Let me give it to you.”
“Yes.”
Hearing the plea in her tone, I opened my eyes, surprised to find hers open. Her lips were parted, her chest brushing mine with every rising breath, and I was leaning over her like we couldn’t get close enough. Our clothes were still on, but I felt Indy’s touch everywhere, and I knew she felt mine. I didn’t know how long her eyes had been open, but she wasn’t hiding from this. No longer denying what we had, what we could be.
“I want more too.” I slid my nose along her throat. “Will you give it to me?”
Her throat bobbed. “Yes.”
The curve of her lips teased mine, and it was a miracle I didn’t kiss her then. But I’d meant it when I said I wanted more. I needed it. And I needed to know this was more than lust, more than physical need.
I wasn’t just going for one win; I wanted them all.
I must’ve paused too long, as Indy closed the distance, her lips finding mine. I tightened my grip on her hair, letting myself enjoy the taste of her sweet gasps before I pulled back. “Tell me what you are to me,” I whispered before she could reach for me. “Tell me you’re my wife, Indy, and I’ll give you everything.”
Her eyes widened, and I was relieved to see the flicker of annoyance there. It was better than fear. “Just kiss me. ”
I wanted to. I wanted to lose myself and find myself in her again. But I wasn’t doing this half-assed. I didn’t want to hear our kiss was a mistake again. And I definitely didn’t want to wake up in the morning and realize I was nothing more than a one-night stand. I wanted her now. I wanted her always.
Even if that always was nothing more than a few more weeks.
“I’m a married man.” I curled my fingers deeper into her hair. “And I’m not kissing anyone but my wife.”
Her arms banded around my neck. “Your poor wife. I bet you drive her crazy.”
I nipped at her ear. “Not half as crazy as she makes me.”
Smiling, Indy ran her fingers through my hair. She was toying with me. Little did she know, I didn’t mind that she wasn’t giving me what I wanted. She was having fun, flirting, teasing me. Touching me.
I was a starving man. I shouldn’t be greedy.
Ah, to hell with it. Gripping her hips, I pulled her in. But before I could feel her soft breath on my lips, I heard my brother’s voice from outside. “Hey, you in there?”
Indy’s frame went rigid, her eyes wide as the shed door groaned open and a draft of cold air swept in.
“Shit—I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you weren’t alone.”
She scrambled to get off the table, but I tightened my hold on her. She had nothing to be embarrassed over, and I wasn’t going to pretend she was something to hide. “Did you need something?” I asked, staring down at Indy and the cute glare she was giving me. “Or were you just bored and decided to be a pain in my ass?”
Brooks laughed behind me, not knowing I was making plans that ended with him never having sex again. “Sorry, I was going to ask if you could watch Winnie for us. But I have a feeling you’ll teach her how to shave my head now, so never mind.”
Indy jabbed her elbow into my ribs, and I grunted, dodging when she made to do it again. Positive she’d kill me if I dared wrestle her in front of my brother, I let go and moved to the side of her legs. “Sorry.” Clearing my throat, I crossed my arms over my chest. “When do you need me to watch her? ”
Brooks rubbed the back of his neck, the tops of his ears crimson as he likely regretted opening the door. “Shay has that marathon she’s running on Saturday. Jake was going to watch her for us, except he caught some sort of stomach flu. Figured we’d ask you before we made other plans. It’s a few hours short of the Utah border, so it’ll just be for the day. We’ll be back late that night.”
“I won’t be in town—I have a few orders I need to deliver near Phoenix,” I told him, not liking that I couldn’t help. “If you’re okay with it, she can come with me. I’ll introduce her to some real music, none of that Cocomelon stuff.”
“Maybe.” He tucked his hands in his pockets. “I thought about bringing her along with me, but I’m not sure how she’d do hanging out at the course all day. Shay mentioned canceling, but I don’t want her to do that. She’s worked too hard. I’m thinking I might just stay home—”
“I can watch her,” Indy offered, and from the glance Brooks gave me, he was as shocked as I was. “I mean, if you’re desperate enough I can help. I’m not doing anything Saturday.” I’d planned on inviting her to go out of town with me, and while I was disappointed, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t love the idea of her spending time with my family.
“Okay,” Brooks agreed, interrupting my thoughts as I tried to decide if I was jealous of my baby niece or not. “Let me talk to Shay and see what she wants to do. But it might be a good idea if you stop by the house beforehand and get to know Winnie a little more. I imagine Shay will want to go over a few things with you.”
She nodded, nibbling on the corner of her lip. “Definitely no pressure or anything. You won’t hurt my feelings if you say no.”
“Alright. I’ll let you know,” he said, already backstepping out the door. “Indy, I’m heading back to town if you want to catch a ride with me—I can drop you off at your parents’. But I’m sure you probably want to get back to whatever the hell you two were doing. Looked like he was ready to suck your blood.”
Laughing, he dipped out the door, dodging my hat as I chucked it at him. Indy giggled, hopping down from the table. “I should go.”
Disappointment pulsed through me, but I shoved it down. “That’s probably a good idea. I’m sure Genny is missing you. ”
She smiled faintly, but rather than running after Brooks, she lingered. “Hey, Nolan?”
“Yeah?”
She pressed up on her toes, leaving a featherlight kiss on my cheek. “I’m in charge of our second date.”