Bona Fide (Illusive Duet Book 2)

by Hazel Grace

  Every fucking thing.

  If I lose her, my whole world will dissolve and decay into shit. It’s unimaginable to live without her. She’s my rock, my go-to.

  She’s my fucking mother.

  “It’s going to be okay,” Wade whispers. “I’m here.” His words do nothing to soothe the chaos.

  He can’t do anything.

  He can’t make this car go faster, to make other cars move out of our way, time warp us there so I can pull her out of the house myself.

  Time drags, my anxiety heightens, and the dread coursing through my veins with each beat of my heart—it’s just the beginning of the end.

  ♫ Everything Changes — Staind ♫

  “Are you sure I can’t get you a chair, sir?” I shake my head at the same nurse that asked me over an hour ago. She’s young, mid-thirties maybe, and she hasn’t stopped looking at me since I brought Reagan to the hospital. I should be worried that she’ll recognize me, but I’m not.

  Far from it.

  My brain is too busy trying to think of a way to make things better. To get better doctors to attend to Reagan’s mom because I need to do something. Standing in the hallway while waiting for her to come out is like slowly pulling my hair out of my head.

  I’ve never felt so fucking helpless in my life.

  “Let me know if you change your mind,” she conveys, tugging a piece of brown hair behind her ear. Code for: I’m here to fuck if you need to get your mind off things.

  I give her another curt nod, and she saunters off in her green scrubs, only pulling her gaze away from me when her head is physically not able to look at me anymore.

  Pulling out my phone, I shoot a text to Em telling her to get me the best pulmonary specialist in the country over here to St. Joseph’s Hospital. Money isn’t an issue, I’ll pay for the flight, food, rooming, his time—anything. As long as he saves Reagan’s mom, I’ll do whatever the asshole wants me to do.

  Em: What happened?

  Me: Reagan’s mom is in the hospital. Get on that specialist right now.

  “Did you want me to check in there to see how she’s doing?”

  The nurse again.

  “I don’t want them to be disturbed,” I deadpan, hitting her with my famous glare.

  She forces a weak smile. “Of course. Just let me know if you need that chair.” I want to tell her that she can go get it if I could take it to the back of her head without going to jail but refrain.

  Em: Waiting for a response back.

  That was about twenty minutes ago while I’ve taken up pacing and counting the stained tiles of the floor.

  Me: Money is no issue. Make sure it happens.

  Em: You know I will. What happened?

  Me: Fire. She never woke up. Firefighters had her in the ambulance by the time we got there.

  Em: How is she?

  She means Reagan. My strong, alpha, badass woman who wouldn’t show an ounce of weakness. She’d slay me in a fucking millisecond with the power she wields in her curves and mouth. I thought I was a fucking heartless asshole, but while Reagan might not be as vocal about her emotions, she disguises hers well.

  Me: I know she’s a fucking mess. She barely spoke. I don’t know what the hell to do.

  Em: Let her come to you, just be there.

  Me: I’m here with security all over the fucking place secretly hiding and blending in.

  Em: How did Reagan know about the fire?

  I stare at her question and blink. I remember asking Reagan before we left, but I haven’t thought about it anymore. I was too concerned and out of sorts with her silence that all I could think about was her.

  She was on the phone, I heard her yelling from the other room...

  Me: I don’t know, she was on the phone.

  I shake my head.

  There is no fucking way in hell. No, no, that’s literally impossible.

  Em: Wade...did you ask who?

  Me: No, everything happened so fast.

  Em: I’ll find out.

  Me: I got it, just get back to me when you get a response back.

  “Where’s Lily Shelton?” a pissed-off, worried male bellows through the halls. “Where?”

  Pushing off the wall, I round the corner to see who the hell is yelling, number one, and two, who the fuck is looking for anyone named Shelton with a man’s voice.

  “Gonna need that room number a little quicker here, sweetheart.” He isn’t hard to search for, in fact, he’s like a warning sign to stay the fuck away or get your head smashed in from his muscled biceps.

  Standing in front of the nurse’s station is a man, towering over six foot with a white tee barely containing his steroid-made muscles, solid black hat, and blue jeans. He tries not to scowl at the nurse who has come up to me about a million times offering me a chair, but she appears as though she’s about to piss her pants or break down crying.

  She points in my direction, muttering something to him that I don’t hear, and then he pivots away, slamming his gaze right into mine.

  We stare at each other for a second, studying and wondering who the fuck the other one is. He might outweigh me by a few dumbells, but he isn’t going in any fucking room with Reagan and her mother.

  Breaking his observation of me, I purposely stand in his way as he strides towards me, hands already in fists.

  If looks could kill, his wouldn’t. They’d torture me at best then probably let fate take its course.

  “Who the hell are you?” he grumbles, stopping inches away from me.

  “Let’s start with you first,” I retort. He shoves me by my shoulders to get me to move, but I only take half a step, just to stand grounded again. “So your idol is Schwarzenegger, cool story. What do you want with Reagan Shelton?”

  “Still not seeing where that’s your fucking concern.”

  “The Shelton’s are my concern, and you’re not getting past me until you tell me who the—”

  “Marty!” Reagan’s voice hits my back before she’s rushing past me and into the motherfucker’s arms that thinks brawn is better than brains.

  I watch him tuck his head into her neck, petting her long hair as she holds on to him for dear life.

  Like hers depends on his being here, and, speaking of fires, I’m going to burn this motherfucker alive if no one speaks.

  Too soon, I know.

  “How are you here?” she mutters. “I sent an email to your commanding officer, but I didn’t—I wasn’t sure if you’d be—” She stops, squeezing him hard while he hushes her gently.

  “I’m here, Tsarina. It’s going to be alright.” They spend a silent moment together before his green eyes hit mine, and they immediately turn into a scowl. “Now tell me who this motherfucker is behind you before I make him part of the floor.”

  Reagan breaks free from him and turns in my direction, sadness glistening in her purple eyes. “This is my—this is Wade.” I arch my brow, too focused on her almost calling me something then quickly recanting it.

  “And he’d be what?” Marty presses.

  “Not right now,” Reagan croons, shaking her head and placing a hand on his broad-ass chest. “We’re in the middle of the hospital.”

  “I’d be more than happy to introduce myself out in the parking lot,” I quip.

  His lips quirk before Reagan frowns at me. “Don’t you start now.”

  “Who is he?” I hedge, fully aware that this is an inappropriate time, but she won’t make me wait because she knows it’ll drive me crazy.

  “Wade, this is my brother, Marty.” She pats his chest once. “Marty, this is Wade.” Neither he nor I make a move to act like adults and shake hands. Reagan blows an audible breath of air out of her lips. “Do it now...please.”

  Waiting another few seconds, I slowly extend my hand to him—for her sake.

  Marty breaks from his sister and takes the two steps towards me, but instead of stopping to shake my hand, he bumps my shoulder instead. “Go fuck yourself.”

  I bite
my lower lip to keep my temper in check and from landing a cheap shot to the back of his head.

  If we come to blows, I feel like I might be the one who ends up in the intensive care unit by his hands that look like hammers.

  Bowing my chin into my chest, I inhale a deep breath then bring my gaze back to Reagan only to be met with purple eyes glossed over in tears.

  She looks like she just got mentally beaten down for a month. Bags present themselves under her violets, her cheeks are rosy from crying, and she looks exhausted.

  “Come here, baby.” I extend my arms for her and right away she’s in them. Resting my chin on top of her head, I give her a kiss before returning it there. “So, that’s your brother.”

  She groans softly “Yeah. I’m sorr—”

  “Hell no, you don’t get to apologize for him.” I give her a small squeeze. “How’s my girl?”

  “Tired.”

  And half-naked.

  She’s in an I Prevail T-shirt and gray shorts that I’d love to spend more time looking at, but obviously, it’s not the time. Which reminds me I need Emmy to send someone over to grab her some more clothes.

  “What can I do?” I ask her. “I’m going crazy not being able to do something for you.”

  She gives me a weak squeeze around my waist. “I really need you to get some rest so you can go into the office and—”

  “Hell no, there is no way I’m leaving you to go do some dumb shit that I don’t want to do.”

  “Then you need a better disguise,” she retorts. “You don’t have your hat, and I need clothes.”

  “I’ll go buy you some clothes and a hat for myself. What else?”

  “Ignore my brother.”

  “I can...try and do that.” I brush a piece of dark hair out of her face. “I’m working on the best pulmonary doctor in the country to come here to look at your mom.” She pulls from me to peer up at my face.

  “What?” I don’t respond just admire how beautiful she is. How absolutely and horribly in love I am with this woman. “You did that for me?”

  I give her a weak smile. “I told you...I’d do anything for you, Miss Shelton.”

  ♫ Someone Else — Miley Cyrus ♫

  It takes two days for Mama to open her eyes for more than a few minutes. There are machines everywhere, doctors and nurses in and out of her room like clockwork. So many that I can’t keep track of them all.

  With her cancer, they’re worried, but they try their best to cloak how much they say when I’m in the room and give me their basic updates on all her vitals.

  I ask them if she’s going to be able to make it through this, they tell me to stay hopeful. However, everything changed the moment Marty entered the scene, and I know that’s why I’m only getting half the story.

  Thing is, I’m too exhausted and afraid to even argue with him about it. Wade’s specialist came in yesterday and said he’d continue to stay for as long as Mama needed.

  After a two minute long and tedious argument with Wade, he went back to his office today and texts me every thirty minutes asking for an update or to tell me he’s thinking of me.

  My feelings and thoughts have been clashing together ever since Marty showed up. The reason I’m here and Mama is laid up in a hospital bed is because of Wade. It’s because he kept a problem looming around in his past to come back and do unimaginable things.

  When the cops came, Marty spoke to them. I didn’t ask for the details just yet, but I did tell him about Demi.

  Let’s just say, he wasn’t very happy about it.

  Currently pacing the sidewalk outside, I’m waiting for a miracle or someone to just take me out of my misery already.

  While normal me would be plotting a way to fuck Demi’s world all around twice and backward for her to relive it again, there is no energy or bright ideas that cipher into my head.

  I’m afraid I won’t be walking out of this hospital with Mama in tow, and I don’t know how Marty and I are going to handle that.

  I’m not sure how I’m going to manage being alone when he has to go back to wherever it is he was and continue out his service.

  “Stop pacing the sidewalks, Rea, you’re going to start making potholes.” I don’t have to turn around to see that my brother has successfully hunted me down. There is no hiding my anxiety from him, he can read me like the back of his hand.

  “You got any weed on you then?”

  Marty steps in front of me, blocking my current route, and a perfectly straight line might I add, to get me to look up at him.

  “Still smoking, Rea Rea?” He hoists a brow, looking down at me with worried green eyes.

  “How did you get so big?” I blurt, taking him in for the hundredth time. His muscles look like he bench presses over two hundred pounds a day, every hour. His boyish looks have faded and turned into a man who’s seen some shit, and I worry about what kind of shit that is.

  Marty chuckles and shakes his head at me. “It’s called boot camp, constant training, and being bored.”

  “I’m just wondering how you move because you’re the size of a semi-truck.” Marty’s arm reaches out to wrap around my upper back and pull me to him.

  “Always the smartass.”

  I grin into his chest. “Still the same.”

  “That’s all I wanted,” he replies. “To never lose your spunk and to always be your favorite.”

  I scoff and pat his hard chest. “Jury is still out on that second one.”

  “Well, news flash, no one else would deal with you soooo...you’re fucked.”

  I pull from his grasp. “Mhm, same goes for you. This waiting around bullshit for you to come home is really trying.”

  Marty rolls his eyes. “Like I want to do this military shit for the rest of my life.”

  But he does to keep Mama’s health care going.

  “You can’t,” I tell him. “We need another game plan.” He nods and pulls his gaze from me, I’m sure he’s thought about it before because he’s missing everything.

  “I know.”

  “Can you get out?”

  Marty shrugs. “Not sure when. Been so busy with missions and shit—” He looks back to me. “—but I’ll ask and look into it.”

  I grin. “A date to look forward to would be nice.”

  “So—” He squares his shoulders. “— you gonna tell me about the asshole who wouldn’t leave your side for the last two days?” I inwardly groan.

  “I’m going to need that joint before that happens.”

  Marty reaches behind him and pulls out a fat blunt. “You mean like this?” I stretch for it, but he tsks at me and yanks it away.

  “Uh, uh, not until I hear about the suit.”

  “Like I said,” I retort with a death stare. “I’m going to need that weed.” My brother jerks his head for me to follow, leading me out to the parking lot where he’s parked not too far away.

  Starting up his truck, he moves it out of his parking spot and to the edge of the lot to where we have a better chance of not having everyone that walks out of the hospital get a contact high.

  Pulling out a lighter from his middle console, he puts the blunt between his lips and lights it, promptly handing it over to me. “The stage is yours,” he says off an exhale. “How deep are you in with this guy?”

  I twirl the paper between my fingertips. “Pretty deep.”

  “Like Grant?”

  Needing a hit before I answer that question, I respond. “Worse.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” he chides, twisting his body to face mine. “You promised to—”

  “I didn’t know,” I retort, staring out the windshield. “I didn’t know he was married.”

  “He’s fucking married?!” I cringe at the anger in his tone, one that could match how pissed he was when I almost married Grant then decided to dip out. “He’s dead. Fucking dead.”

  “Calm—”

  “Calm down?!” he screeches, pointing out the window. “His fucking wife almost killed
our mother!”

  “I know, but—” He plucks the blunt out of my hands and brings it to his lips, padding his truck with silence.

  Not only did I fuck myself over, I brought my brother into this shit—again.

  “He’s done, Tsarina. You’re fucking done with him.”

  “Marty, he isn’t that—” His brows knit deeply together, halting my next words.

  He isn’t that bad.

  As grateful as I am that he brought the pulmonary specialist in from California, Wade is implicated in all of this. Mama is lying in the hospital, and Marty hasn’t told me how bad of a road we’re about to head down.

  But one thing at a time—it has to be.

  “We can’t do this,” Marty chimes in through the silence. “We can’t keep doing this.” I nod because I know. “We could’ve lost her over you being—” He pretty much knocks the wind out of my chest because I was being selfish.

  I wasn’t seeing the bigger picture in all of this and the elements that put me here in a parking lot, smoking weed with my brother.

  I shouldn’t be outside a hospital. Marty shouldn’t be here, as much as I love him being beside me right now, I shifted everyone’s world upside. The only two people that I never wanted to affect in such a cluster-fuck of a mess.

  My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I don’t bother to pull it out. I already know who it is and what I need to do.

  The first coffee shop I saw is where I stopped. It was a small little bistro, tucked in between a tax office and a hair salon that looked quiet enough for me to have some damn peace.

  Marty made me leave the hospital, telling me that I needed a shower and real food when really I think he’s so pissed at me that the sight of myself disgusts him.