Page 90 of Bona Fide

Em: Wade...did you ask who?

Me: No, everything happened so fast.

Em: I’ll find out.

Me: I got it, just get back to me when you get a response back.

“Where’s Lily Shelton?” a pissed-off, worried male bellows through the halls. “Where?”

Pushing off the wall, I round the corner to see who the hell is yelling, number one, and two, who the fuck is looking for anyone named Shelton with a man’s voice.

“Gonna need that room number a little quicker here, sweetheart.” He isn’t hard to search for, in fact, he’s like a warning sign to stay the fuck away or get your head smashed in from his muscled biceps.

Standing in front of the nurse’s station is a man, towering over six foot with a white tee barely containing his steroid-made muscles, solid black hat, and blue jeans. He tries not to scowl at the nurse who has come up to me about a million times offering me a chair, but she appears as though she’s about to piss her pants or break down crying.

She points in my direction, muttering something to him that I don’t hear, and then he pivots away, slamming his gaze right into mine.

We stare at each other for a second, studying and wondering who the fuck the other one is. He might outweigh me by a few dumbells, but he isn’t going in any fucking room with Reagan and her mother.

Breaking his observation of me, I purposely stand in his way as he strides towards me, hands already in fists.

If looks could kill, his wouldn’t. They’d torture me at best then probably let fate take its course.

“Who the hell are you?” he grumbles, stopping inches away from me.

“Let’s start with you first,” I retort. He shoves me by my shoulders to get me to move, but I only take half a step, just to stand grounded again. “So your idol is Schwarzenegger, cool story. What do you want with Reagan Shelton?”

“Still not seeing where that’s your fucking concern.”

“The Shelton’s are my concern, and you’re not getting past me until you tell me who the—”

“Marty!” Reagan’s voice hits my back before she’s rushing past me and into the motherfucker’s arms that thinks brawn is better than brains.

I watch him tuck his head into her neck, petting her long hair as she holds on to him for dear life.

Like hers depends on his being here, and, speaking of fires, I’m going to burn this motherfucker alive if no one speaks.

Too soon, I know.

“How are you here?” she mutters. “I sent an email to your commanding officer, but I didn’t—I wasn’t sure if you’d be—” She stops, squeezing him hard while he hushes her gently.

“I’m here, Tsarina. It’s going to be alright.” They spend a silent moment together before his green eyes hit mine, and they immediately turn into a scowl. “Now tell me who this motherfucker is behind you before I make him part of the floor.”

Reagan breaks free from him and turns in my direction, sadness glistening in her purple eyes. “This is my—this is Wade.” I arch my brow, too focused on her almost calling me something then quickly recanting it.

“And he’d be what?” Marty presses.

“Not right now,” Reagan croons, shaking her head and placing a hand on his broad-ass chest. “We’re in the middle of the hospital.”

“I’d be more than happy to introduce myself out in the parking lot,” I quip.

His lips quirk before Reagan frowns at me. “Don’t you start now.”

“Who is he?” I hedge, fully aware that this is an inappropriate time, but she won’t make me wait because she knows it’ll drive me crazy.

“Wade, this is my brother, Marty.” She pats his chest once. “Marty, this is Wade.” Neither he nor I make a move to act like adults and shake hands. Reagan blows an audible breath of air out of her lips. “Do it now...please.”

Waiting another few seconds, I slowly extend my hand to him—for her sake.

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