Page 59 of Why Cruise

My stomach hurt, trying to contain all the emotions bouncing in me. I took a shaky breath and said “thank you,” in a small voice.

“It’s my honor,” Ren said softly.

Shit.

Justice

We were the last to pull into the tour station, which was little more than a dirt patch cut into the lush greenery that had swallowed us. I squeezed the hand break a touch too hard, just to hear Mackenzie’s delighted scream as the ATV jerked forward and she was thrown against me. I cut the power and held my hand over my shoulder to guide her off. Every cell in my body ached at the loss of contact with her.

Her laughter almost reached the cackling stage. She jumped around in a tight circle, flapping her arms like she had too much energy to burn off.

“That was the best! We almost died!”

My face hurt from smiling so much. “I think you might be an adrenaline junkie.”

“When can we go again?”

She rushed back to me and knocked her helmet against mine twice. She burst into another fit of laughter and danced away. No clue why she found that hysterical, but I’d go with it. I’d go with anything forthisMackenzie.

She tugged on her strap and then gave up. She tilted her head back to the sky, put her arms out and spun in circles. She was fucking magnificent.

I fiddled with the chin strap and pulled my helmet off, running fingers through my sweaty hair. I hung the helmet on the handlebars and picked my head up just in time to see her take one more spin, scream, and then disappear.

“Mackenzie!”

I was off the bike before my next heartbeat, skidding to a stop before I went over the edge of the ravine, too. It was maybe a six-foot drop. She was lying at the bottom, half hidden by vegetation, unmoving. I took five steps to my left where the slope was more gentle, and launched myself over, twigs snapping under me.

“Mackenzie.”

Panic closed my throat. She groaned. The helmet moved. Fuck. I rolled her over gently, cradling her neck.

“Ouch.” She blinked her eyes rapidly. Fuck. Had I hurt her more?

“Don’t move,” I said, my voice rougher than I intended. “Just lie still for a minute.”

“Justice?” she whispered, sounding dazed.

My hands hovered over her. “Follow my finger with your eyes.”

“I’m wearing a helmet,” she said, a hint of humor creeping into her voice.

“Can you wiggle your fingers for me?” The words came out clipped, automatic. She showed me her fingers, then rotated her ankles and wiggled her feet.

Then I caught it. The sharp, metallic scent of blood. She was covered in blood. A drop welled at her scraped knee and ran almost delicately down her leg. My vision tunneled, dimmed, sparkles on the edges.

“You’re bleeding.” My voice sounded far away, like someone else was speaking through tin cans. This was my fault. I let her get hurt. The scent of her blood mixed with my rising panic until I could barely breathe.

“Oh,” she said in surprise.

I scooped her up, cradling her against my chest.

Tour staff appeared at the edge of the ravine, calling down directions. “There’s a path about 20 yards to your left. Follow the orange markers.”

I squeezed her tighter as I picked my way through the undergrowth, my breath coming in short bursts. She was so small in my arms. So fragile.

“Justice?” she said like she had been speaking for a while and I hadn’t been listening. “Are you alright?”

“No.” The word scratched my throat. “I can’t smell you. All I can smell is blood.”

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