Page 48 of The Heartbreak List

“And I’m still in love with your daughter.” I’m no good for anyone else. She was it for me. She was my everything. No one else can ever compare. Certainly not a girl who only has a few months left before she’s wearing a toe tag. And even if Indy was free, what would be the point? I could never love someone I know is dying. It hurts too much to be the last one standing. “I live with her loss every day.”

“The cops are on their way, Nelson.” Indy is trying to be as calm as possible, but the strength of her voice wavers. “I’m so sorry about what happened but please don’t shoot him.”

He glances over his shoulder, but the police aren’t close enough yet. He still has time. He roars in frustration, but he tucks the piece back into the waistband of his pants. “You remember my girl every day for the rest of your damn life, you hear me?”

“I will. I promise.” It’s not like I could forget what I had… and what I did. Or the love that I lost. The entire life that it cost me.

He grabs my collar with both fists. He’s a tall man and he lifts me part way off my feet while he bares his teeth. “You don’t get to move on.”

“I won’t.”

“I can see the cruiser,” Indy says. “They’ll be here any second, Nelson.”

He shoves me away. “If I ever hear that you’ve forgotten Cooper…or that you’re happy…”

“I’ve got it.” He’ll find me again. He won’t hesitate.

He takes off running as the cruiser tears along the block, and I collapse against the side of the truck.

“Theo.” Indy is calling my name as she struggles to get out of the truck.

I mash the unlock button on the key fob and yank the heavy door open. She’s crying, tears streaking her cheeks.

I wrap her up in my arms.

“Oh my God, I was so scared.” Indy sniffles. Her cheek is pressed to my chest and her hands are on my back, inside my jacket.

I was so scared too. I was terrified that she’d have to watch him shoot me. That he’d turn that gun on her after he was done with me. “He needs psychological help.”

I might need psychological help too, considering that if Indy hadn’t been here, I would have probably grabbed the barrel and held it against my forehead. Egged him on.

The cruiser pulls up beside us and the officers jump out. “Are you two all right?”

“Yes.” I release Indy. My chest cools noticeably without her warmth against it.

“Can you tell us which way the man went?” One of the officers—he looks like Sam Elliot with his white hair and bushy as fuck mustache—has his hand on his weapon though he keeps it holstered. “Did he only have the one weapon?”

“Um.” I glance around and point out the direction I last saw Nelson. “As far as I know. He didn’t hurt us. He’s not a criminal. He lost his daughter…he just…he needs help.”

“Stay here,” the second officer orders.

I stay by Indy’s door while they check out the area surrounding the parking lot. I’m cold and stickier than Bubble Yum bubble gum by the time they split up to take our statements. Eventually they’re done and I climb into the truck, cranking the heat as they drive away.

Indy doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t utter a single question about Cooper. Or ask if I lied when I told Nelson that I have feelings for her. She sits next to me with her eyes facing forward.

It kills me that I dragged her into my mess. And that Nelson is a ghost of the man I once knew. My breath is choppy, and my head is spinning. I can’t breathe properly. The oxygen is all stuck in my throat.

I rub the heel of my palm against my chest. God, I miss Cooper. It aches so fucking much. I bury my face in my hands as the pain takes me under. It’s like a wave with its troughs and its peaks. Sometimes I coast along the surface, able to keep from diving too deep, but tonight Nelson has pushed my head under the water and held me there.

I walked away from the wreck, but I can never walk away from what I caused.

Eventually I get my emotions under control. Opening the console, I pull out a handful of napkins so I can dry my eyes and wipe my hands. Then I pass the rest to Indy in case she wants to clean up. “I’ll take you home.”

“Thank you.” Her voice is barely there as I drive out of the parking lot. She clutches the napkins in her lap.

She doesn’t utter another word until I’m parked outside her building. Then she turns to face me. “You lost someone you loved. That’s why you’re helping me?”

“Yes.”

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