Page 42 of The Heartbreak List

I figured it would be easy to help Indy with her bucket list because I didn’t have to care about her. I just had to care about her need to complete her bucket list. And if I didn’t get attached then it wouldn’t hurt much when she was gone. Yeah, I’d think about her from time to time. But in that rose-colored way where it was a great adventure at the time.

Now, I have an opinion on the guy she’s with. And I suspect I’m really going to miss her. But what’s worse is that when I swung her around in that room full of debris, I was so invested in her that I forgot everything that matters.

All I was aware of is the way her hands felt on my shoulders and the way my palms fit the curve of her waist. How each time I stare into them, I see more little flecks of gold and cinnamon in her whiskey colored eyes. She smells like vanilla and endless blue skies. And there is the faintest hint of flowers in her hair.

God, I wanted to kiss her. I wanted to bring her lips down on mine so I could taste their sweetness. I forgot that she’s with him. I forgot that she’s dying. And I forgot every reason I have for never getting involved with anyone beyond meaningless club hookups in dark, seedy corners. Until it all came flooding back in.

I can feel her warmth in my hands still, as I hunt my keys from my pocket. It was only a hug. There was no grazing of bare skin. No intention to take it further. It didn’t mean anything. It doesn’t change anything. But I feel it.

Like I feel the bruise along my jaw. In that sensitive way where you want to press on that raw spot and feel the sweet ache over and over again. It’s a new sensation.

I’m used to the numb exhaustion of a hard fight. This is different… when Indy is happy she lights up something inside me that shouldn’t exist. And that feeling…that sweetness…it doubles my guilt.

I should have supported and encouraged Cooper the way I am Indy. I should have taken her to Cabo, and I should have poured over a list of all the things we wanted to do. Checking them off one by one.

Instead, I took everything from her. Failing her eats me alive. Hurting her has me clenching my fists. Wanting to kiss Indy turns me inside out. I let Cooper fade into the background… I let her disappear in the moment, because I’m selfish.

Being around Indy is turning out to be a balm to my soul. And that’s not what I signed up for. That’s not what I want. I can’t let it happen again.

“So are we going to make this a weekly thing?” EJ asks as we stand around on the pavement. “Should we invite Mom and Dad and Gray next time? I bet Dad could use the chance to pound on something.”

My jaw tightens. Hell no, I don’t want to spend time in a room full of weapons with Indy’s boyfriend. That sounds like a fucking recipe for disaster.

“We’ll organize an outing at family dinner,” Indy tells him as he climbs into his sleek silver BMW. It purrs as it leaves the parking lot then roars as it picks up speed.

“That is a nice car.” I used to love flashy cars. Fast motorcycles. Expensive boats. I appreciate them still. But I don’t have the same level of interest in them I once did. The appeal of owning something like that is long gone.

“It’s his baby.” Indy wrinkles her nose as she starts toward my old truck.

The truck was new thirty years ago and had a dozen owners before I bought it so I could claim that I had a roof over my head while I was finding my feet. It’s nostalgia that makes me hold onto what is essentially a junker.

“Do you think we could find a karaoke bar at this time of day?” Indy peers up at me as I peel open the truck door for her. “Cross another thing off my list?”

I can think of at least three places we could go at this time of day to sing some terrible rendition of Journey’s“Don’t Stop Believin’,” orLinkin Park’s“In the End.”Or perhaps Indy is hiding a beautiful voice and it wouldn’t be so awful, but I’ve got a craving for Jameson that won’t be quelled until I black out on the ugly orange carpet in my apartment. Although I would pass on the Jameson for a decent fight.

I have my phone in my hand, and a message in Sigh’s inbox before I can help myself. If there’s anyone who won’t mind me scaring up a fight in the middle of the day, it’s the guy who got me hooked on them in the first place. “I’m dropping you home.”

“Oh. Okay.” She climbs up into the cab. A frown mars her perfect features as I pull out of the parking lot. “Is something wrong?”

“No.” I twist my hands on the steering wheel. I’m aware I’m stilted. That she’s picking up on my not-so-subtle mood change. But I can’t come out and tell her the truth. There are things that I will never let myself forget. That I need to be punished for. And she somehow made those memories hurt less. She granted me a reprieve and for that I can’t be around her. For that I need to bleed. Like I made Cooper bleed. That’s the kind of fucked up conversation no one wants to have.

She gets a notification that draws all her attention to her phone. Her wide-eyed gaze spins across the screen.

“It’s him. Isn’t it?” How long did her brother wait before he hit speed dial?

“Yeah.” She taps away at the screen.

Did he chew his best friend out for the bruises he left on her too? I really fucking hope so. “There better be an apology.”

“He’s asking about you. Asking why I didn’t tell him.” She purses her lips. “But I did. I know I did.”

They text back and forward while I stew in my own frustration. I’ll grind my teeth down to stumps, trying to make sense of how he can’t see that she needs him to believe in what she’s attempting to do. He’s going to regret it. He might even become a shadow of a man, going through his days on autopilot. Fighting to breathe. Holding onto the memories because that’s the only way to hold onto her.

Eventually, she slides the device back into her bag.

“Everything okay?”

“It will be. We’ll talk it out when he gets back from Baltimore.” She twirls the ring that is far too loose on her finger. Only her knuckle has any hope of keeping that thing in place.

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