Page 34 of Pit Stop

“Some kind of magic?” I ask. “I mean, they have a shaman. Jex said the lake had healing properties. Maybe this cave is the same?”

“Who knows with these shifters? I mean, some kind of magic has to sustain them, right?”

“I guess. We all heard the stories growing up. I thought they were fairy tales.”

“They are in a way. You saw that shaman. He doesn’t look like someone from a book.”

“Yeah. I admit, I was expecting a pointed hat and a long robe.”

We grin at each other, and then we hear a soft whistle floating through the air.

Something almost comforting surrounds us, and my fingers start to tingle.

I feel it, a tightening in my ribs, a clawing at my knuckles, almost like this place is trying to pull the wolf out of me.

“What is this? Do you feel that?”

“I do, and part of me thinks we should leave.”

“Same.”

But neither of us does. We just stand there among the glowing rocks with the ethereal breeze moving past us when someone approaches from behind.

“Who said you could be here?” a gruff voice says. “You’re not shifters. You’re not allowed in this space.”

We turn and face an older man, his head cocked, his eyes gleaming as he watches us.

“Um, shit,” I murmur. “Jex said we should come here. We didn’t know…”

The older man frowns, his hand moving up to stroke his neatly trimmed beard. “Of course he did. He never was a rule follower. He doesn’t believe this place is sacred.”

“We didn’t know. We’ll leave,” I say, but the man stops us.

“No, you don’t need to. You’ve seen it already. And to be honest, it’s never a bad idea for the likes of you to feel what it means to be one of us.”

I don’t know what that means, and I don’t ask.

“You feel it, don’t you? The primal urge inside of you? It was bred out of your kind, but it’s still there in spirit. The urge.”

Maverick’s hand tightens on me, and I wince slightly but say nothing.

“We should go,” Maverick says, but the man stops him with a hand to his chest.

“You have it inside of you. More than others. I can smell it on you. Not a wolf, but part of one. You’re welcome here anytime.”

Maverick shakes his head and then moves toward the cave’s entrance.

“There’s also one of your pack farther down the path.”

My heart rate picks up. “Is he safe?”

“Oh, he’s perfectly fine. Having a great time, by the sounds of it.”

I don’t even want to know. I just swallow roughly and let Maverick lead me out of the cave. This whole place is…it’s not where I want to be. I want to be back home with Maverick, cuddled in his bed, his warm body behind me.

But that’s not sustainable. For him or me.

“Should we find my brother?”

“No. I don’t—” Maverick sighs. “I don’t want to know. If that’s what he likes, I want him to tell me. I don’t want to force him to out himself.”

I nod as we continue walking back toward the lake.

“What do you think he meant by you have more wolf inside of you? Does that mean you’re a shifter?”

“No, it means my dad might have had some of that in him. I don’t know. And honestly, I don’t care to know. I just want…” he clears his throat. “I just want to go back to the way things were.”

For a moment, I wonder if he means that he wants to go back to the way things were with us, before we made our way here, or if he wants things to go back to when everything was simpler. When I was just the little brother of his best friend and not his mate.

I guess it doesn’t matter. Because tomorrow is happening and it’s going to hurt.

We both know it, and yet we’re doing it anyway.

We spend the rest of the day on the porch of the house, snuggled together, Maverick constantly scenting me as he tries to mark me. It fades faster than normal. Nothing sticks.

I hate it. I dread what this means.

At night, we make love, slow and drawn-out. He makes sure I feel it, the drag of his cock, the way his lips trace across my skin. He’s making sure I’ll remember, but doesn’t he know? I will remember this. How could I forget?

When the morning approaches, I realize I haven’t slept. I just stayed awake, nuzzled into him, feeling our bond slipping farther and farther from us. By the time we wander down to eat breakfast, I can’t feel him at all. Even his touch is muted.

“Eat,” Bet says, but I shake my head. I’m sick. Not hungry.

She scolds me, but I ignore her, knowing that this is the beginning of the end and loathing it. Everyone else seems to feel it too.

Ten and Jex leave us alone, and Forest is oddly quiet. Sage and my dad are the only ones who talk while eating, but it’s superficial. Nothing of importance.

Forest only speaks as we walk toward Attie’s place, ready to break the bond for good.

“You sure about this?” he asks the two of us.

Maverick’s hand tightens on mine, and I slip from his grasp, unable to handle it—his touch, the reminder of what we’re going to sever.

“Yes,” I lie.

Maverick says nothing. But I hear his bones cracking slightly.

The wolf inside of him.

Maybe the man in the cave was right. Maybe he’s part-shifter.

When we approach the worn-down trailer, Attie is already outside, smoking a pipe, his shirt off, and a cowboy hat on his head.

“You made it. Thought you might have left.” He sniffs and grins. “The potion worked. Can barely smell you two,” he explains as he stands up, a puff of smoke leaving his mouth. “All right you assholes. Right this way.”

Maverick eyes me, but I keep my gaze forward, unable to look at him.

If I do, I might not make it.

Sage seems to sense that I need someone, his hand slipping into mine.

“You’ve got this,” he whispers, and I turn to look at my brother, my eyes slightly wet.

“Yeah. I do.”

He squeezes my hand as we walk behind the trailer.

On the wet dirt is a large circle made of stones, and in the middle are two chairs.

Rickety ones—ones that I’m sure Attie found on the side of the road, but if it works, it works.

Nothing about this surprises me. And if today wasn’t dreadful, I may have even laughed.

“Both of you sit there. No touching. This will hurt enough as it is,” Attie instructs.

I wet my lips and let go of my brother’s hand, stepping into the circle and lowering myself onto the chair. Maverick follows quietly. I can barely hear him breathe.

Attie instructs my dad and brothers to stay out of the way, out of the circle, and then moves toward us, putting blindfolds over our eyes. Only a little light filters through, and the darkness seems to heighten it all.

Oh gods, I don’t want this. Do I?

But it’s too late. I can hear Attie burp loudly, laugh, and then a minute later, start to chant in another language.

It’s low and sinister. Exactly like I thought it would be.

My chest tightens, and that numbness that seemed to mute all my senses the past twenty-four hours dissipates.

I can feel everything now. It’s being pulled from me.

Maverick is being expelled from me.

I hear him grunt next to me, obviously feeling the same thing.

Attie continues to chant, and the louder he gets, the worse it feels.

My hands tighten on the plastic arms of the chair, my skin breaking as I cling to them.

I breathe deeply through my nose, my chest constricting as I do.

A dull pain throbs at the base of my spine, moving up through my chest. It’s not as bad as I was expecting, but maybe Attie warns people just in case it’s terrible.

Wind whips through the trees, and the birds stop chirping.

And suddenly, the chanting stops, and I exhale deeply.

That wasn’t that bad , I think, my heart beating frantically in my chest.

My hands loosen, and then the ground thuds, vibrations moving up my legs, and suddenly my body is thrown back, pain slicing through my chest, pulling at my heart.

A scream erupts from me, breaking my vocal cords.

I choke and cry, tears leaking out of my eyes, Maverick grunting and groaning next to me.

My dad is shouting in the distance, my brothers cursing as I thrash on the ground. The blindfold falls from my eyes, but even still, I can’t see through the dust, through my tears. It hurts. It hurts . I feel like someone is ripping my ribs from my chest. One by one.

Oh gods. Kill me. Kill me!

I realize that I’m shouting this, begging the gods to take me.

Something splits audibly, and I swear my body is being torn apart. They’re taking me apart. They’re stripping me of my lungs, my veins, my soul.

I can’t breathe. I can’t fucking breathe.

Maverick.

And then suddenly, it stops. A ringing is in my ears, my heart throbbing roughly. I inhale shakily, my fingers curling in the dirt. It grounds me somewhat.

I blink and see my dad looming over me, his eyes wet with worry.

“Mav,” I manage to choke out, but it’s a whisper. The screams have pulled my voice from me.

“He’s…” my dad chokes. “He’s passed out, but alive.”

I shake my head as I try to sit up, but I fall back down, unable to keep myself upright. I feel wrong, ill. My stomach churns, and I roll over, throwing up bile onto the ground.

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.

He’s tired and angry. But more than that, he’s sad.

But he doesn’t say it, and he certainly doesn’t show it.

And over the next several days, things don’t go back to normal like Attie said they would.

No, they go from bad to worse, and on day six of being completely miserable and depressed, of being so utterly alone and physically weak, I realize I’ve made a huge mistake.

Only it’s too late to change it now.

Maverick hasn’t been around, his absence an ugly, palpable thing that I feel in my joints, in my chest. He hasn’t made any contact with me. Hasn’t even attempted to.

In a moment of complete and utter despair, I tried to text him, but it didn’t go through. Which means he blocked me.

It’s the worst kind of breakup, the meanest. I don’t know why he’s cut me off so cruelly. Is he not hurting as much as I am? Does he not remember telling me he’d travel hours to get to me? How can he do that if he’s cut me off and completely removed me from his life?

I don’t know. I can’t even begin to understand. And when I ask Forest about it, he brushes me off, telling me it’s not his business and that he doesn’t want to get involved.

“He’s not well, Skye. You have to give him time,” he says.

So I do. I give him so much time.

But it’s running out. I have to go back to school. I have only a few days left here in our small town, the place where I spent my summer bonded to my mate.

My ex-mate.

My future is waiting for me, all my dreams and goals, and Maverick won’t be a part of it. He won’t even know I’ve left.

That hurts the most.

How it all began in that dirty bathroom stall. How it ended. How I used to have him and now I don’t.

And the worst part of it all is knowing that I made that choice.

Me.

And now I have to live with it.