Page 76 of True Blue

As I pull onto the road, my hand turns up the volume on the radio, and my body goes still at the song playing.

Dancing Queen by ABBA.

A wide smile spreads across my face even as tears sting my eyes.

“Alright, Ellie…” I murmur.

As I pull onto the main highway, I find myself singing along loudly, obnoxiously, and full of growing joy. I scream the lyrics at the top of my lungs.

The farther I get from the Williams house, the lighter I feel. The easier I can breathe, and it feels like Ellie is sitting next to me in the passenger seat, singing along with me.

It’s a sign. I choose to believe that.

Ellie’s telling me I’ll be okay.

My heart cracks the farther I get from Teddy, but I’m a fucking doctor.

Healing is what I’m good at.

And Europe seems like a good place to do it.

15

TEDDY

JULY

“Indie!”

I jolt awake, my body snapping upright as I gasp, my lungs burning.

The nightmare lingers for one disorienting moment before the specifics dissolve as I try to grab them. All I know is that it terrified me more than anything. My temples throb from waking so suddenly, the pain so sharp that I snap my eyes closed against the glaring sunlight pouring through the window. I press my palms into my eyes, hoping to ease the ache, but it doesn’t help.

My stomach rolls, and I clench my teeth, fighting the waves of nausea as I extend my arm, eyes tightly shut, reaching across the rumpled sheet for Indie.

Then I freeze, because Indie should be in bed with me.

She should be right next to me. We fell asleep there last night, me holding her desperately because I said the most vicious, unforgivable words to the only person who keeps my heart beating.

Indie.

Oh, God, honey…

Blinking my eyes open slowly, I stare at the other side of the bed—it’s empty. I move my hand across the sheets where she should be, searching for any trace of her.

Her side is cold.

“Indie?” My voice cracks as I look around my childhood bedroom, scanning every corner—my closet, the beanbag chair, even peeking under my bed. Her backpack and shoes are gone, her phone isn’t on the charger, and her keys are not on the end table.

My heart slams against my ribs, thudding in wild panic, echoing the throbbing in my skull.

I stumble out of bed, one hand gripping the bed for balance and the other pressing against my pounding temple, feeling like my skull might split apart. As I take a step forward, my bare foot slams painfully into the bed’s corner. Pain explodes through my foot, causing me to double over and crash to my knees at the exact spot where her bag was.

My hands hit the hardwood as I brace myself, jolting my wrists. My knees are throbbing, and my breath is ragged as I frantically scan around for her.

“Indie?” I call again, more desperate now, panic closing my throat. “Honey?”

Where is she? Did she go to the bathroom?