Page 198 of Bona Fide

Thankfully, it’s empty besides the TV and the news rattling off my name on cue of us stepping in. All expeditious information of where I am, how I might be doing.

Probably not the safest thing for them to give out if Demi’s men want to finish me off but who the hell am I? Walking towards the small flat screen, I turn it off to then pivot back to Reagan.

Her dark hair is a fucking mess, windblown with small strands wisping around her face and eyes. She’s wearing leggings and a white tee under a leather coat, and she’s just too—Reagan for me to fucking bear right now.

“Are you okay?” she frets, walking toward me again. “There’s so much that—”

“I’m okay,” I deadpan, nonchalantly and as discreetly as I can back away from her.

You can’t be here, baby.

Her being here devastates all the things I should be saying but can’t. It engulfs me into a ball of emotions and shit I don’t want to fuck with right now. The facts are simple and should be easy to speak out.

There is no way in hell she should be in this hospital. The simplistic truth that she snuck her ass in here only means security sucks, and I need my own protection for whatever Demi has next because I know that bitch has options.

“It was everywhere,” Reagan frets, wringing her fingers. “Being in a National Park couldn’t keep the news away that you were...shot. Do you—”

“Where are the men I left you with?” Her lips part before she suddenly looks for something else to focus on. “Reagan.”

“I lost them at the airport.” My jaw locks as she looks at me innocently, calmly, beautifully.

“They’re fired.” My fingers curl, not able to hit anything because I’d like to walk out of here with only one injury.

Reagan violently shakes her head before arriving inches from me. “Please, don’t. I’m a pain in the ass. I used to lose people all the time when I was running...drugs.”

“They’re trained Secret Service, Reagan. And they lost the only person I wanted them to protect while I couldn’t be present.”

“It wasn’t easy,” she professes. “Please, don’t.” My nostrils flare as I avert my gaze because I can’t stand the way her eyes are pleading for me to listen.

I want to, it’s just that she could be where Francis is right now or worse—dead. And that would be because of a mistake that, again, I wouldn’t be able to fix.

I can’t fix a lot of things.

Emmy was thrown into danger with a gun to her face.

Francis was trying to recover from being shot for saving my life.

And with Demi’s connections, she could’ve had Reagan’s plane shot down for all I know.

“Wade.” Another request to be attentive to what she wants to say. Her hand touches my chest, and it causes me to suck in a breath.

My attention snaps to her, finding a new expression on her pretty features—worry, relief, and possibly other things, but that’s all I can sift through right now.

“I’m so happy you’re okay,” she mutters. “I was so scared.”

“I’m okay.” She doesn’t buy it, her bottom lip ends up between her teeth and her violet eyes gloss over in unshed tears.

“I understand why you’d put a front up with me. I hurt you, you hurt me, we said goodbye.” Her hand balls my shirt with her first. “But I don’t want you hurt. I couldn’t live if—I didn’t know if the news was right or if it was a front. I had to find out for myself.”

“Where were you?” I ask.

“Mount Rushmore.”

I scoff, can’t help it. “Fitting.” Her brows furrow, and my hand comes up to brush her cheek, beyond grateful that she’s here, but that’s totally beside the point. “You need to go somewhere safe.”

“Can I stay with you for a little while?” Her soft tone hits my gut, but I need to start being more rational instead of letting my traitorous heart do all the talking.

“You can’t be here.”

---