Page 84 of Indigo

I can’t let her stay. It wouldn’t help, and the hospital has given us as much time as they could.

“C’mon, Blue. We’ll go home, yeah? Have a shower. Get you something to eat.”

I try to pry her off Lana, but she turns on me and shoves me as hard as she can, making me step back a little, not wanting her to hurt herself.

“Fuck you, Paxton. I’m not leaving.” She turns to the nurses and screams, “Get the fuck out and leave me alone!”

I see one of the nurses wipe a tear from her cheek, but she keeps her face passive, trying not to show any emotion. “I’m afraid we can’t,” she says gently.

Indie turns back to Lana and pleads with her body. “Please, just wake up. Please, please. I need you, Mum. I can’t. I don’t know how to do this without you. Please wake up. I can’t. I can’t.”

Dropping to her knees on the floor to the side of the bed, she pulls them to her chests, wraps her arms around her legs and rocks herself back and forth, her eyes tightly closed as if she’s in physical pain.

I sit beside her and drag her onto my lap. She doesn’t protest. Her arms go around my neck and she buries her face against my throat, crying so hard it sounds like she’s choking.

“We can give you ten more minutes in here, Mr Shepard,” a nurse whispers to me, her hand patting my shoulder gently.

I shake my head, knowing no amount of time is going to make this better. “Take her,” I whisper, nodding to the bed. “Giveusten minutes.”

She nods and hurries from the room, leaving the door wide open.

“You’re okay,” I whisper into Indie’s hair, over and over, sliding us backwards on the floor so that the others that enter a moment later to transport Lana have enough room to do what they need to, while my girl grieves in my arms.

They turn the light on as they begin tinkering with the bed, and I use my hand to shield Indie’s eyes.

Quietly, after a few moments, they wheel Lana out, turn the lights back off, and close the door behind them. Leaving us alone in the dark, Indie’s pain echoing around the room.

-28-

INDIGO

I CAN'T FUCKING BREATHE.

Every inhale feels laboured, like my body is revolting against me continuing to live while the one person I never thought would ever leave me did so in the most permanent, painful way possible.

I truly thought I’d feel a little better being here, in her kitchen, her home, surrounded by her things, her smell, but the ache in my chest hasn’t eased in the slightest.

Tears blur my vision as I trace the rim of her mug. It still has coffee in it.

All the signs of her morning routine are strewn about. The coffeepot is half full, the vase on the windowsill she updates every few days with the little pink wildflowers from the backyard is full of water, the magazine she was reading before she left this morning is open, a recipe for caramel fingers displayed.

I can picture her standing here if I close my eyes hard enough. Sipping her coffee, swaying to the music she played the moment she got out of bed, flipping through the same magazines she’s read hundreds of times, trying to decide what she feels like cooking for dinner.

How can she be gone when I can see her so clearly in my mind? When I can smell her, feel the warmth of her in this spot as if she’s right here. How the fuck am I supposed to justlivenow?

I suck in a laboured breath as I spot her headphones resting next to the coffeepot.

She didn’t take them with her for her walk.

The thought that’s been playing in my head since Jagger called me comes to the front of my mind.

She didn’t take them with her because she thought I’d be joining her today.

But I didn’t. I didn’t go. Instead, I brushed her off and had a shower. I wanted to be ready and waiting when Pax returned with breakfast. I wanted to make surewewere okay after last night.

How miniscule that issue seems now.

“Blue,” Pax says softly, his voice making me jump.

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