Page 111 of Pit Stop

I just nod, a little stunned, and then step away, letting Maverick focus on grilling. And as I do, my dad beckons me over and pulls me into a side hug.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, better now that I’m here.”

He clears his throat, letting go of me. “What are you gonna do about school? You have classes tomorrow. You can’t miss much more.”

I peer over his shoulder at Mav, who is watching me. He must have heard it.

I really need to talk to him. We need to discuss it.

Like tonight. Shit, I should have done it sooner, but I was so wrapped up in him, in being with him. I just let it slip away. I didn’t want to think about being parted from him again.

“I need to talk to him,” I say.

“You want things to continue with him?”

“Yeah, I think—shit, Dad. I think the unbonding was a mistake. I fucking made a mistake. I want to mate with him again sometime in the future, but yeah…”

I flush, feeling embarrassed that I put them through all of that, and now I’ve changed my mind.

“You need to be sure, Skye. I don’t want you ill again,” my dad says softly.

“I know. But it will be different this time. I promise.”

He clears his throat, his eyes watering slightly. “I don’t want to lose you like I lost your mom. It’s so hard on the body, on the mind.”

“I know, but I…well, I know this is right. That he’s the one for me. We can make it work. I know we can. We’ll discuss it. We’ll make sure it’s what we want. Together.”

“Promise you’ll take care of yourself. That you won’t let yourself go like before.”

“I promise.”

I feel someone place their arm around my shoulder.

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of him,” Maverick says. “I know we haven’t discussed it yet, but I already talked to my uncle.”

I pull away and stare up at him. “What? What do you mean? Why did you talk to your uncle?”

Everyone is looking at us now, and Maverick shifts on his feet.

“Shit, Skye. Can I talk to you?” he asks, and I cock my head, letting him pull me behind the trailer where my family is less likely to snoop.

“What did you do, Mav?” I ask when we’re alone.

He runs a hand across the back of his neck and looks at me sheepishly.

“Um, well, I’m going to get a job near you. I already decided. I meant to tell you, but I just wanted you to focus on healing.”

“Mav, you’ll hate the city.”

“I know, but I won’t hate being near you. And I can manage for the school year until you’re done. And then we can find somewhere to be together. Somewhere we’re both happy.”

“Mav,” I choke out. “I can’t let you do that.”

“You can,” he whispers, grabbing my hands and pressing them to his lips. “Please don’t say you don’t want this.”

The way his voice cracks when he says it has me stumbling into him and holding him tightly.

---