Page 180 of Bona Fide

“That’s what breaking shit off means.”

“What if I don’t want to? What if I can get past this and we can just continue?” She keeps on with the what-if shit when my whole body starts to signal in on something nearby, or someone. Someone who makes me detonate on impact.

My gaze peers over to Indie’s left, discovering Marty and Reagan standing at the front desk with suitcases in tow. She studies the layout of the hotel lobby, her legs carrying her around in a small circle.

I saturate her to memory for the last time in—I’m not sure how long I stare.

Light blue jean shorts that I would never let her go out in public in. A coral-colored tank top that covers her midriff this time, thank fuck, and that dark hair, it cascades beautifully down her back lazily.

I love her enough to let her go.

To not be doused in my bullshit so that she flourishes and thrives.

I’ve shaded her for far too long. Her life has been submerged and on the brink of demise while I stayed clean, and my selfishness has to die along with it. No matter how bleak my future will be, never feeling how I do with her again. It will be enough knowing she'll evolve and shine.

Indie follows my attention, immediately landing on Reagan. A soft scoff and a shake of her head is her response to the woman I’m letting her go for.

“You’re right,” Indie concedes. “I’ll never be her. And I don’t want to be.” She turns to look at me one last time. “You both look like shit.”

She pivots towards the lobby. I don’t take my gaze off Reagan, and she picks that exact moment to see me.

Her eyes widen, then quickly soften, sadness glimmering off her irises.

I want to tell her I’m sorry.

That I wish things were different and that we had met at another time in our lives. That I still love her and that I’ll always be enamoured and proud of who she is and has become.

Indie appears in front of her, snatching Reagan’s attention from me. Then a loud slap, and I blink at the scene I just witnessed.

Indie just belted Reagan in the face.

Marty turns on his heel, stepping between the both of them and about to get into Indie’s face. I understand her wanting to inflict some hurt, but doing it around the beast known as Reagan’s brother was a bad idea.

Reagan yanks him back, speaking to him while Indie makes her quick and smart exit. With a quick moment of arguing, Marty makes his way out of the automatic sliding doors with suitcases in tow.

Leaving his sister in the lobby alone.

Reagan steals another glance at me, a weak smile, and then a wink. She doesn’t regret last night, and I don’t either, but I’m afraid when I get older my memories will fade. That I’ll lose pieces of her that won’t be able to be found.

And I don’t want her to go with them.

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