Page 99 of Pit Stop

Red headlights dripping down the glass.

No, not rain. Tears.

I slump forward, and Rob rushes to my side.

“Skye. Shit. Skye!”

But I’ve given in to the grief.

I’m lost.

I make it home with the help of Rob. He manages to carry me to my bed, and I collapse onto the mattress, my tears almost endless now. I’ve lost my glasses somewhere, and I’m having a hard time seeing. Not that I’m looking at anything.

I can barely see through the wetness in my eyes.

“That’s it,” Rob murmurs. But I don’t know what he means by that. I just turn my face into the pillow and soak it through.

I cry until I can’t breathe, until there is nothing left inside of me but dust.

And when that settles, I drift off, and in my dreams, I see Maverick, his eyes on me, his lips wet with want.

I reach out for him, and he takes a step forward, so close. He’s so fucking close that I can smell him, can almost taste him, but then he turns and walks away. And I can’t move. Can’t chase him. I’m stuck. Chained to my future, to my dreams and goals. To what I thought I wanted.

Only, I don’t know if that’s what I want anymore.

“Wake up,” Rob says, shaking me gently. “Wake. Up.”

My crusty eyelids part, and I blink up at my friend. His hand touches my face, and he curses. My glasses are thrust onto my face—Rob must have found them—and I realize that despite them, I still can’t see very well. It’s all a blur.

“We’re going. Now.”

I don’t ask where, don’t fight him, just let him pick me up and drag me to the car. He buckles me in and tosses a backpack in the trunk before turning the car on and peeling down the road.

My head flops to the window, the cool glass against my feverish skin. My eyes close, and I swallow. My throat is dry. It hurts.

Everything hurts. Kind of like when we mated and then spent time apart. How sick I got.

Oh gods. It’s just like that. Only this time, it came on slower.

My stomach churns, and I gulp back the urge to vomit.

“You hang in there,” Rob says curtly. “You fucking wait.”

My eyelids close as the rumble of the car beneath me rocks me to a fitful sleep. And when I wake, I’m somewhere familiar. The garage where Maverick works.

My heart rate picks up, and for the first time in days, I feel like I’m able to see.

Rob hops out of the car that’s still running, and he disappears inside. I can’t move. The aches in my bones keep me seated. But my hands are fisted in my lap, my breathing labored.

Is he here?

Where is he?

I hear a commotion, and then Rob appears, looking crestfallen. My heart sinks in my chest, and I tighten my fists so hard that I feel my nails pierce the skin of my palms. But I don’t move. Still, I don’t move.

What happened?

Where is he?

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