Page 95 of Pit Stop

Attie’s ratty sneakers make an appearance in my field of vision, and he sighs.

“That was rough. Sorry about that. Give it a few weeks and everything should be mostly back to normal. Hopefully.”

I peer up at him, and he gives me a small, shaky thumbs-up. He wasn’t kidding. He seemed to have gone through it just like us. His nose is bleeding, and there’s a cut on his bottom lip.

He steps back, and I let my dad and Sage help me sit. The world spins, everything around me dull and dry.

“Mav,” I whisper, and Forest murmurs next to me.

“He won’t wake up. He’s not waking up. What the fuck happened to them?”

I claw my way to my mate—no, not my mate. Not anymore. When my hand hits his leg, I feel his muscles jump.

“What did you do to him?” I rasp, my eyes now wet, not from the pain, but from the thought of losing him.

Attie runs a hand through his hair, his cowboy hat missing. “He took it the worst. Seems he loved you more than you knew.”

My chest twinges, and I press against it. Oh gods, this is all my fault.

“He’ll be fine, though. Just needs a minute, I suspect. Never had anyone die on me before.”

I press my cheek to his chest and curl up against him. We’re not bonded anymore, the marks on my skin are surely fading, but I don’t want him to die.

“Mav, wake up. Please,” I whisper, my lips moving against his shirt. But he doesn’t move, not for long minutes. I can hear the thump of his heart in his chest, and that steady thrum gives me hope.

When his hand finally moves, brushing against my back, I let out a sob. Crawling up his body, I tuck my face against his neck and rub against it.

Maverick’s hand gingerly taps my spine, and he holds me for a moment before he turns away, stiffening.

“Get him off me,” he rumbles, and that alone is almost worse than the pain of being unbonded.

“Mav?”

“Get him off,” he says, his voice pained.

Forest helps me off him, and I stumble to my feet. Everything hurts now that I’m standing. My bones feel brittle, my stomach still roiling. Maverick is sitting up, his head between his knees, his hands clasped tightly together behind his neck.

He looks pale, unwell.

I want to reach out and help, but he doesn’t want me near.

“See, told you he didn’t die,” Attie says, something in his mouth. He spits it out and puts more inside. “Want some? Will make you so high you won’t remember this happening.”

I don’t know if I want that. I think I want to remember. I want to remember all of it.

“No thanks,” I manage to say, and my dad places his arms around me.

“We’ll be leaving. Anything we need to do? Monitor them for anything?”

“Just perpetual sadness, but that should clear up in a few days. Then it’s back to normal. Usually.”

Normal. I can handle normal, I think.

I just don’t know if I can handle Maverick not looking at me again.

And he’s not. He makes sure of it.

He turns his gaze away from me the entire ride home, sitting next to Sage instead of me. Even though the bond is broken, I can still sense him.

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