Page 107 of True Blue

When I shake my head, he pulls out his phone and squints down at it.

"Infernal goddamn machine—my granddaughter said it was time to enter this century. I've never had any of these problems with landlines. Does your number end in 2444?"

"No. 2244."

"Son of a bitch," he growls. "I checked with her twice—twice," he jabs two fingers in the air for emphasis, "to make sure the number was correct."

"Nana?" I ask, clarifying who the her is that he's talking about.

"No," he waves his hand. "Dawn."

I sit up straight. "What?"

"Your Nana redid her will back in December. I've been trying to reach you ever since she passed. I even had interns send letters to your mother's house. I was about to hire a damn process server just to force your ass into my office."

My mouth opens, closes, then opens again. "I didn't get anything⁠—"

"Yeah, no shit," he snaps. "Because your mother gave me the wrong damn number. And every time I called her, she said it wasn't the right time, that you were grieving, not doing well, mentally delicate."

"Fucking Christ," I mutter. "No, I had no idea she even had a will. I thought she and Pop just left everything to her and my aunts, and they already handled it."

"I'm Duncan Hale," he says, holding out his hand. "Call me Dunk. I'm your Nana's estate lawyer."

"Nice to meet you," I wince. "Sorry about⁠—"

"You would not believe the family insanity I've seen doing this work. Listen, the will is pretty straightforward—the only beneficiaries in the will are you, Danielle McClane, Stephanie Williams, and..." he pauses, frowning as he looks back down to his cellphone. "...Dr. Indiana Miller."

My heart jolts at the name so hard it hurts.

"Indie," I breathe, my heart pounding. "That's my girl⁠—"

I stop. Nope. Not anymore. I don't deserve to call her my girlfriend anymore. I clear my throat.

"She was... she was very special to my grandmother."

"Yeah," he says dryly, wiggling the phone at me. "I gathered that from the amount she left her."

My heart is pounding now. Nana left something to Indie. Because she was family. She was my true family.

Indie. Nana. Stephanie and Danielle. Heath and Luke.

"Anyway," Dunk says, exasperation slipping back into his tone, "can we please set a meeting? My office is right down the street."

I'm already getting off the machine.

"How about now?"

Even though it's in the middle of his workout, Dunk doesn't look displeased.

Instead, he smiles and sighs in relief.

"Let's get this show on the road."

20

INDIE

AUGUST