Page 13 of The Shot You Missed
“No.” That would make her run faster. “She would hate that. Completely hate that.”
“Okay. Do you have any idea where she works or what she does?”
Indie was planning to major in English Lit with a focus on creative writing, but I’ve never seen a book published under her name. That’s not to say she couldn’t have a pen name, but maybe she changed her mind once she started school. Something I always admired about Indie was that she could pick up just about anything and be good at it.
She could be doing literally anything right now.
“I haven’t spoken to her since we were eighteen. I have no idea.”
Griffin rubs the scruff of his jaw, frowning. “Well, shit. We’ll keep brainstorming.”
Ten years. Ten years, I’ve been looking for Indie Bloom, and tonight, I saw her. But I have no way to contact her, and I want to crawl out of my skin.
I never considered how painful it might be to see her and lose her all over again.
“Don’t worry, man.” Logan gives my shoulder a squeeze as he stands to grab another beer. “You’ll find her. It’ll work out. It has to.”
“Yeah.”
I’ll just wave my magic wand, say a little spell, and summon her to appear out of the almost four million people in the Twin Cities.
five
SEBASTIAN
Indie is a ghost.Nothing we’ve considered or tried has produced any clues. As predicted, the team wouldn’t give us any information from her ticket purchase. The guys have combed social media to find a profile for her, but all that’s uncovered is a whole lot of information about her parents’ divorce and the release of a sex tape they apparently made fifteen years ago.
Poor Indie. No wonder she isn’t in LA right now. This is her definition of hell.
I always keep an eye out for her online and on the gossip pages, just in case. Normally, I go months, maybe even years, without anything setting off a Google alert. But lately there have been quite a few.
Paparazzi following her around when she meets a friend for coffee. Speculation about whose side she’s on in the divorce. Commentary on her pink hair, the gray and black floral tattoos that now cover her arms, her style, her relationship status, and, as always, her weight. Every time I see someone criticize her body, I want to rage.
Indie’s been dealing with this shit ever since she was a teenager. She hit fifteen, and people decided it was acceptable to have an opinion about her appearance. By the time she was seventeen, the commentary was brutal, but at least it wasn’t overtly sexual.
When she hit eighteen? Polls went up on gossip sites asking people if they’d fuck the chubby daughter of two of the most beautiful movie stars of our time. They speculated she wasn’t actually Robert’s daughter. Because Indie’s looks would make more sense if Vivian had an affair with an ugly guy.
Once upon a time, she’d answer my calls sniffling after hurtful stuff like that popped up. I was the one she always turned to, and I loved being the person she could depend on. Then, when we were eighteen, she blocked me.
So now, to have all of that public attention swing back in her direction for something she didn’t participate in or ask for? All I want is to find her and make sure she’s okay. I’m practically crawling out of my skin with the need to protect her.
“I get why she’s so private,” Griffin says as we wander through the grocery store, getting everything we need for a family dinner with the guys and their women. “Some of the shit these people write about her, dude… It’s gross.”
“It’s always been like that for her.” I rub at the hollow sensation in my chest that hasn’t gone away since I watched her walk away from me at the game.
“I read that she recently broke up with some douche she was dating. So she’s probably single.”
Every time I’d get a Google alert about Indie, my heart would thunder in my chest and my stomach would tangle into knots because what if that was the time I had to read that she’d fallen in love and gotten engaged? She’s been linked with a few people over the years, but this last relationship was the longest, and we’re not getting any younger. I don’t expect Indie to stay singleforever, so the relief I felt when I saw they’d broken up was intense.
Then I felt like a complete and total asshole because I was thrilled the woman I only want happiness for was probably hurting.
“She could be.”
“And she’s here,” Griffin says, glancing at me over his shoulder as he lifts a case of beer into our cart. “She came to our game. Some part of her must want to see you.”
“Shewashere,” I clarify. “It’s been two weeks, Griff.”
“Keep the faith, Bashy. I have a good feeling about this.”
