Page 125 of Slay Ride

“Thank you for being so understanding,” I say.

“I’m not sure I completely understand, but I’m beginning to. Your insecurities run a lot deeper than I realized, yet you seem so confident on the surface. I’m sorry I didn’t make you feel safe enough to talk to me.” She winces. “All those jokes about Bennett probably didn’t help.”

Her words hurt my heart. All this time, I’ve been so concerned about what she’d think and never stopped to worry about what she’d feel.

“This wasn’t a shortcoming on your part, Kindra. You’re right. I have a lot of insecurities and anxieties that I keep buried, and that played a big part in the fear. Believe it or not, Bennett gives me confidence. He makes me feel stronger when he’s behind me. I think that’s why I was finally able to get a kill.”

“Wait.” Kindra sits up. “The night you got your first kill . . . Does Bennett know you fucked Maverick?”

I drape my arm over my eyes as a low groan rumbles out of my chest. “I have so much to catch you up on.”

Kindra’s bedroom door flies open, and we both jump. I hurry to tug Bennett's jacket over my chest as I sit up. Ezra steps into the room. His hair is a mess, and sweat covers his forehead. He’s also out of breath.

“What’s going on?” Kindra asks. “Is everyone okay?”

He nods and holds up a finger. “One . . . sec.”

“Where’s Bennett? Is he hurt?” I jump from the bed and race toward the door, but Ezra stops me.

Gripping my shoulders, he looks into my face and says, “He’s gone.”

Before he can say anything else, I push past him into the hallway and run for Bennett’s room.

Chapter Fifty

Bennett

Warm air roars against my face in the back of the stretch limo as the long car slinks down a desolate road in the middle of Alaska. A green haze runs across the night sky, like some massive deity took a sequoia-sized brush and dragged luminescent paint across a navy canvas.

I wish Cat were here with me for so many reasons, but mostly so that I could see the sky through her eyes. The tears prevent me from seeing much of anything for myself right now.

Reaching into my coat pocket, I feel for the slip of paper. I need to remind myself why I’m leaving and why I couldn’t ask Cat to come with me.

“You sure you’ve got a plane to catch?” the driver asks. “With that storm moving in, I don’t think they’re letting any private planes on the tarmac.”

I don’t answer him. I just look out the window and watch the trees flash by.

The jet will be there. Ezra arranged everything the moment he read the letter. He foolishly told the pilot he’d be rushing twopassengers to the states to catch a ride to Florida, but I couldn’t ask Cat to witness my weakest moment.

The plans I’d begun to formulate disintegrate and fall through my fingers.

My mother has taken a turn, though not in the way anyone expected. She experienced a mild stroke yesterday morning. Despite quick action on the part of her very expensive medical team, her symptoms only worsened, and a second stroke occurred. My mother isn’t expected to recover. They don’t even believe she’ll wake up.

The letter says I’ll be lucky to arrive before she expires.

Expires. What is she, a carton of fucking milk?

I crumple the paper and toss it to the floorboard as if I can make this someone else’s problem. Maybe I can pretend this is anyone’s life but mine.

The limo hits a patch of ice, and the car’s tail wobbles to the left. I sit back as the driver regains control, but I buckle my seat belt. If we get in a wreck and I die, I won’t have a chance to apologize to Cat for leaving without so much as a word her way. She has a heart of gold and won’t hold any of this against me, but I still feel like an ass for taking off. But she’s trying to work things out with her friend, and I didn’t want to interrupt their important conversation.

I also didn’t have time to wait around. For all I know, none of these worries even matter. Kindra is probably busy convincing her to end things with me, and Cat may not be someone I’m permitted to worry about much longer.

Even if that’s the case, I’ll still worry about her. I’ll love her from a distance if I have to.

Love. . .

I lean forward, as far as the seat belt allows. “Hey, have you ever been in love?”

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