Page 157 of True Blue

Indie’s mouth twists in disgust, her eyes going cold.

“What did she say to you?” I ask Indie.

Indie sighs. “She said that I was never good enough for you, and that she was glad I saw it now.”

My eyes close. That fucking…

“No,” I snarl quietly. “She has that all backward.”

Indie snorts derisively, and it makes me smile.

I then think of the video on my phone, and I ask Indie, “Can I show you something?”

She looks skeptical, but nods.

Reaching into my pocket, I tap a few times to bring up the video my cousins took and hand it to her. I watch Indie’s face as she watches the video, amusement at the cake mess on the floor, brows raised when I eviscerate my family and call them out on their shit, and she actually huffs a laugh at my mom’s scream.

“That number one girl shit always made me uncomfortable.”

“Me too,” I admit, taking the phone back from her. “I didn’t recognize that it was discomfort; I thought it was just embarrassment at being treated like a child.”

“She’s very good at decorating,” Indie says, meaning not just the house. Dressing terrible things up and framing them as pretty and normal.

“She is.”

“So, you’re really… done with her.”

“Yes.”

Indie hums shortly, before frowning and looking torn for a moment. She then points at the phone.

“Could you… send that to me?” Indie asks, her lips twitching. She glances around the room for her phone resting on the side table. “I’ll unblock you⁠—”

“No need,” I say softly, and she whips her head around to me. “I got a new phone and a new number.”

Indie blinks, looking taken aback. “You still have my number.”

I nod.

“And you still didn’t call me,” she says it more as a statement, not a question, but I nod anyway.

“You set a boundary,” I shrug.

“And you listened.”

“I’m listening, Indie,” I whisper. “Tell me anyway—tell me to do anything—and I’ll listen.”

Indie rolls her eyes, but doesn’t look irritated. She looks teasing. It makes my blood sing.

“Yes, you were quite obedient when you first walked in.”

“I can listen,” I rasp, my voice gravelly and low. Heat rises in my body. My tone is eager, and I sit up straighter, wanting to do anything she says. “I can do the hard things. I’ll do anything you ask.”

Indie snorts and looks skeptical.

“Stand up,” she says.

I do, practically bouncing up from my chair.