Page 98 of Pit Stop

“He has a reason for it,” I say, and Rob purses his lips, taking my phone from me and shoving it in his pocket.

His arm goes around me, and he pulls me into him. It’s so different from the feel of Maverick next to me that I almost start crying. But I choke it back. I won’t do that. Not now.

Not when I went through all the trouble to get ready to go out. Just to eat. Not to party.

Rob leads me to his car and helps me inside. I’m like an old man, my body having aged significantly. He doesn’t comment on it though, just drives me across town to what used to be my favorite restaurant. But now the thought of eating turns my stomach.

I swallow it down and let Rob lead me inside. He asks for a booth, and we slip into our seats without having to wait. Probably because everyone else is out partying, and here we are eating.

“Come on. Order something with protein. Or really, anything that sounds good.”

I stare at the menu and my stomach churns. “Can you order for me?”

Rob sighs, and when the waitress comes over, he tells her what we’ll have. Or at least what he thinks I’ll want. I’m just going to try to force whatever I can down.

My stomach gurgles. I feel like I’m going to vomit.

“I need to use the bathroom,” I say suddenly, and Rob arches an eyebrow.

I get up with considerable trouble and hobble down to the bathrooms. The urge to check my phone is intense, and it only grows when I realize Rob has my phone and I can’t do that.

I’m left to gag over the toilet without knowing if a message is waiting for me.

A blessing and a curse.

I need to break this.

I need to get on with my life. But it’s hard when everything is just so damn difficult. When moving and sleeping and eating have become unbearable chores.

Even the information in my classes is hard to digest. If I don’t snap out of this, I may end up having to retake several of them. I may even end up on academic probation. That’s never happened before.

I wash my hands, avoiding my reflection in the mirror this time, and make my way back to our table. Our drinks are waiting, and he pushes one toward me. Orange juice.

“Drink it.”

I do as he asks, and he sighs.

“Do you want me to call him?”

“No,” I say, even though I do. Just for an update, to see how he is. I don’t want to bother him, though.

Because he blocked me for a reason, and I need to respect that.

“What about your next heat?”

“Red,” is all I say.

“Fuck him. You’re not letting him do you.”

“No other choice, really. Not any good ones anyway. And he’s a shifter. He could make me. They don’t seem to have any boundaries.”

Rob narrows his gaze before sipping on his drink. “Fuck. I’ll talk to Forest. He said he’d take care of it. That has to mean something.”

“Don’t bother. It doesn’t matter.”

I don’t even have the energy to fight it.

Our food is set in front of us, and Rob digs in while I pick at mine. As I do, I hear the roar of motorcycles in the distance and my heart skips a beat. My gaze turns out the window as they approach. A whole cluster of them, revving engines, leather jackets. The window starts to turn hazy. Rain at the end of summer.

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