Page 115 of True Blue

“She would,” I nodded, my throat tight. She devoted her life to treating patients suffering from cancer. She took care of my grandmother and gave her more time with me, with us. She’s going to be happy to hear that.

“There are also certain items you each have received,” Duke said then. “And letters she wrote for you.”

Danielle and Stephanie received a couple of items from Nana, pulled from the safety deposit box—some of her personal jewelry passed down from her parents that Stephanie and Danielle appreciated.

Then Dunk produced two boxes and placed them in front of me, along with two letters—one for me, and one for Indie.

I’m here to personally deliver them to Indie… and maybe selfishly using the excuse to see her.

Indie looks at me for a long moment before slamming back the drink in her hand and saying something to the glaring woman at the table.

My heart stutters as she stands from her table—long and tall and all breathtaking fury—and storms over to me. I stand from my seat and open my mouth to speak, to explain, when she gets the jump on me.

“Wow, fancy meeting you here,” she says, her tone dripping with faux-amazement. She sets her jaw, her eyes narrowed, and if looks could kill… well, I’d be dying a very happy death right now.

At least I’d be looking at the woman I love.

“Indie—”

“You know, it’s interesting,” she cuts in, crossing her arms. Her voice is razor sharp, and I feel each word slicing me open. “Nine hundred miles was too far away from Mommy, but four thousand is apparently just fine.”

“Indie, please listen⁠—”

“No,” she slashes a hand between us, and it makes me snap my mouth shut. “All I’ve been doing is listening to you for the last seven months—no, you know what, even before that. And now you’re still not listening to me—what do you think goodbye means⁠—”

“It’s about Nana,” I blurt, which makes her pause. “She had a will we didn’t know about.”

Indie studies me, searching my face like she’s looking for the lie. And that hurts, not because she’s trying to hurt me deliberately, but because I allowed the trust between us to erode so much. She doesn’t trust me anymore, and that’s fair.

I’ll earn it back. If it’s the last thing I ever do.

“And…” she asks, drawing out the word.

“And you were in it, Indie,” I say, my voice soft. A cheer goes up in the bar as someone scores on the television, before they launch into some song. I step closer to her out of necessity, raising my voice slightly. “She left you something.”

“Indie, are you alright, love?”

The woman Indie was with appears by her side, her words for Indie, but her dark eyes are glaring holes into my skull.

“I’m fine, Petra,” Indie smiles down at her, the look so devastatingly soft and fond.

God, she’s so fucking beautiful. When’s the last time I’ve seen her smile like that? Not from anything I’ve done lately, and that realization is a kick to the nuts.

Petra returns her smile before she turns back to me. It’s almost funny as she steps in front of Indie, like she’s trying to protect her, and crosses her arms. I peer down at this five-foot-nothing woman who looks me up and down like I’m shit at the bottom of her shoe.

Apt description.

“You must be the prick,” she says, accent sharp and her words cutting.

I nod easily, though, because her words are true.

“Yep, that’s me—I’m the prick,” I say, pointing to myself with my thumb. There isn’t an ounce of sarcasm in my voice as I say, “Glad my reputation precedes me.”

Indie’s lip twitches—barely—but I see it. Not softening, not at all, but just a flash of amusement. I used to say stupid stuff to rile her up, deliberately playing up my clumsiness because it made her laugh.

Then she would ramble about niche topics to help me feel better while I listened to her sweet voice, enraptured.

“Let’s talk outside,” Indie says.