Page 45 of Forsaking All Others

“It doesn’t work without you either.”

Squeezing my hands, he gives me a small smile.

“Right.” Releasing me, he sighs and scratches the scruff lining his jaw. “Give me your phone, I want to call Leftie and tell him we’re on our way back to the house. If the kids didn’t eat, I’ll order food.”

Reaching into my pocket, I narrow my eyes.

“Where’s your phone?”

“It died about an hour ago,” he says, taking my phone. “You still got Leftie’s number stored—yeah, you do.” He smiles and shakes his head, clicking send before raising the phone to his ear. While he waits for Leftie to answer, I ask him for his phone. Leftie finally answers and I slide into the car, plugging Maverick’s phone into the car charger. He talks on the phone outside the car and I glance back at Theo. He must have fallen asleep while Maverick and I were…well, being us. Toeing the line and fanning the flames. Struggling to ignore what’s always been between us.

Maverick hands me back the phone, revealing all is well with our kids. Then he orders me to put my seatbelt on and tells me he’ll follow me back to the house. I close my door but he remains rooted at the side of my car, watching as I pull the belt over my shoulder and snap it into place. Satisfied, he winks at me and heads for his bike. I start my car, but I don’t put it in drive. My fingers tighten around the wheel and my rings catch my eye. I twirl them around my finger as my gaze cuts to the sideview mirror and I watch Maverick throw his leg over the seat.

He’s not going to disappear.

He’s not going to pick a fight.

Shifting gears, I peel away from the hospital. About five minutes into the drive, Maverick’s phone lights up and powers on. A second later it starts to chime with a bunch of alerts. Keeping my eyes on the road, I reach for the phone.

Fifteen missed calls.

Ten voicemails.

When we were together Maverick’s phone was always in his hand in case the club needed to get in touch with him for one thing or another. He never forwarded a call to voicemail and he certainly never let it die.

But today he didn’t care.

He ignored the calls and let the phone die because me and my son needed him.

He put us before the club.

Tossing the phone on the passenger seat, I let that sink in and focus my attention on the road. The phone starts to rings, and when I roll to a stop at a traffic light I reach for it again. Ghost’s name flashes on the screen and I swipe to answer, pressing the speaker phone icon.

“Hello?”

“Holly?”

“Ghost.” I’m about to explain why I have Maverick’s phone and that he’s following behind me when he grinds into the line.

“Where’s Maverick?”

“We’re on our way home from the hospital. He’s following behind me—”

He cuts me off.

“Holly, listen, I need you to pull over and give Maverick the phone.”

The light changes and I hit the gas. I can sense the desperation in Ghost’s gruff voice, but we’re literally two minutes away from my house. My son has been in the hospital all day and needs to be home in his own bed.

“Ghost—"

“Holly, please, honey, listen to me. Pull the damn car over.”

“Ghost, I’m turning on…” My voice trails as a police cruiser races around my car. Ghost continues to shout into the line but the second that cruiser turns down my street, I tune him out. We don’t live in a very dense neighborhood. The houses are spaced nicely and there is a total of six houses on either side of the street. The cruiser turns into my driveway and my breath catches.

The phone falls to the floor and I slam on the brakes.

My first thought is something happened to the kids. Then I remember Maverick called the house and he said everything was fine. That was a mere fifteen minutes ago. Could something have happened that quickly? Maybe Leftie got sick. He gets really bad asthma attacks—what if he had one?

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