Page 164 of A Little Complicated

Uncle Henry’s frown deepens as he takes in Mia’s glassy eyes. Striding toward us, he demands, “What’s going on?”

“I. We. Uh.” My mouth snaps closed. My tongue feels as worthless as my apologies lately and makes my defense useless as Uncle Henry’s heavy footsteps echo off the walls.

“Mia?” Uncle Henry prods. “What’s going on?”

Mia shakes her head and waves her hand at Mav. “Anything you want to say?”

Scrubbing his hand over his face, Maverick’s shoulder hits the hallway wall, and he rasps, “I know how this looks.”

“It looks like you’re sleeping with your brother’s girlfriend.”

“We’re not…” My voice trails off, and Maverick shakes his head.

“Mom, I know I fucked up.”

Mia touches her pursed lips, the repercussions of our actions almost more than she can bear. She shakes her head back and forth, allowing a tear to slip down her cheek. Disappointment. Shame. Pain. They all fight for the spotlight. I don’t blame her. Archer and Maverick are her boys. It doesn’t matter that they’ve moved out and they’re adults. She wants to protect them. I don’t think the feeling ever really goes away.

Dropping her hand to her side, Aunt Mia whispers, “There’s no excuse, Maverick.”

Maverick blinks slowly but doesn’t deny it.

I notice the shade of his lips. They’re a purple-ish blue.

Something’s wrong.

“Mav,” I whisper.

He lifts his hand like he wants me to stay in place. Like he wants me to keep my distance. Like he wants to hide the fact he’s struggling to remain standing. It freaks me out even more.

Shit.

I take a step toward him, but I’m not fast enough. His legs give out, and he crashes to the floor, a loud thwack vibrating off the walls and into my bones. Falling onto my knees, I roll Maverick onto his back and check his pulse. It’s gone.

Where the hell is it?

His eyes are rolled back in his head as I begin chest compressions right away, grateful my Uncle Mack made all of us take CPR classes when we were younger, no matter how much we complained at the time.

Don’t give up on me, Mav. Don’t youdaregive up on me.

Blood pours from his chin, dribbling down his jaw and pooling on the floor while cries echo around me.

I don’t look up to see who they belong to as I continue performing CPR, feeling more helpless than I’ve ever felt in my entire life.

A warm body hits my side, and Archer shakes his brother’s shoulder. “Wake up, brother. Wake up!”

“Call an ambulance!” I yell. Tremors of fear race down my spine, but Archer catches on almost instantly and pushes me aside, taking over chest compressions as I watch Maverick’s lifeless body lay unmoving.

Another voice yells at someone in the kitchen, but I don’t register what’s said as my father’s strong arms encircle me.

“Sh…, baby,” he coos. “Sh… It’s gonna be okay.”

Seconds later, Uncle Mack kneels beside Archer and Maverick. A crumpled napkin falls from his hand as he reaches for Maverick’s neck, checking his pulse, his brows knitting in concern.

Macklin’s a paramedic—one of the best—and he’s seen a lot of shit. He’s also a rock and thrives under pressure more than anyone I’ve ever seen. But even this knowledge doesn’t ease the panic racing through me.

“Let me take over,” Macklin orders.

Archer falls onto his ass beside me, looking as wrecked as I feel. I reach for his hand as I sob against my dad’s chest, every single heart-wrenching scenario flashing through my mind, one after the other, leaving me a shell of a human being. I’m a mess. I can’t breathe. I can’t think. I can’t do anything but cry.

---