Page 93 of Bona Fide

“Can you get out?”

Marty shrugs. “Not sure when. Been so busy with missions and shit—” He looks back to me. “—but I’ll ask and look into it.”

I grin. “A date to look forward to would be nice.”

“So—” He squares his shoulders. “— you gonna tell me about the asshole who wouldn’t leave your side for the last two days?” I inwardly groan.

“I’m going to need that joint before that happens.”

Marty reaches behind him and pulls out a fat blunt. “You mean like this?” I stretch for it, but he tsks at me and yanks it away.

“Uh, uh, not until I hear about the suit.”

“Like I said,” I retort with a death stare. “I’m going to need that weed.” My brother jerks his head for me to follow, leading me out to the parking lot where he’s parked not too far away.

Starting up his truck, he moves it out of his parking spot and to the edge of the lot to where we have a better chance of not having everyone that walks out of the hospital get a contact high.

Pulling out a lighter from his middle console, he puts the blunt between his lips and lights it, promptly handing it over to me. “The stage is yours,” he says off an exhale. “How deep are you in with this guy?”

I twirl the paper between my fingertips. “Pretty deep.”

“Like Grant?”

Needing a hit before I answer that question, I respond. “Worse.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he chides, twisting his body to face mine. “You promised to—”

“I didn’t know,” I retort, staring out the windshield. “I didn’t know he was married.”

“He’s fucking married?!” I cringe at the anger in his tone, one that could match how pissed he was when I almost married Grant then decided to dip out. “He’s dead. Fucking dead.”

“Calm—”

“Calm down?!” he screeches, pointing out the window. “His fucking wife almost killed our mother!”

“I know, but—” He plucks the blunt out of my hands and brings it to his lips, padding his truck with silence.

Not only did I fuck myself over, I brought my brother into this shit—again.

“He’s done, Tsarina. You’re fucking done with him.”

“Marty, he isn’t that—” His brows knit deeply together, halting my next words.

He isn’t that bad.

As grateful as I am that he brought the pulmonary specialist in from California, Wade is implicated in all of this. Mama is lying in the hospital, and Marty hasn’t told me how bad of a road we’re about to head down.

But one thing at a time—it has to be.

“We can’t do this,” Marty chimes in through the silence. “We can’t keep doing this.” I nod because I know. “We could’ve lost her over you being—” He pretty much knocks the wind out of my chest because I was being selfish.

I wasn’t seeing the bigger picture in all of this and the elements that put me here in a parking lot, smoking weed with my brother.

I shouldn’t be outside a hospital. Marty shouldn’t be here, as much as I love him being beside me right now, I shifted everyone’s world upside. The only two people that I never wanted to affect in such a cluster-fuck of a mess.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I don’t bother to pull it out. I already know who it is and what I need to do.

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