Bringing her hands up to my head, she pulls me down to kiss her while tilting her hips under me back and forth. This is the part where I give her part of my soul because I have nothing left to give her that means anything. My phone rings in the kitchen. It would be easy to ignore it except it’s a preprogrammed ring that makes the blood in my veins turn to ice. Pulling away from her kiss, I cock my head to make sure I’m hearing correctly. My stomach flips. “It’s the secure line at work. I’m sorry, Maeve. I have to get this. I’m on call right now and this could be important.”
She doesn’t make me feel bad, she pushes me off her, and my dick is so sensitive it actually hurts when it hits the cold air. I jog to the kitchen and answer the call.
“Wilds here,” I say.
“There’s been an accident. A bad one, Wilds. How soon can you be in?”
Chapter 12
Maeve
I’m supposed to meet Lincoln inside this bar to honor the men who died in the helicopter crash, but I can’t force my feet to move in the direction to him. In fact, everything in my body wants to run away from this, from Lincoln. The only reason Lincoln wasn’t on the helicopter that killed seven SEALs was because he was in the other troop that came home. He was supposed to be on that helicopter. He traded spots with someone because Rena was back. The troop that stayed, well, they got the short end of the stick. The service ended a couple hours ago, Lincoln rode to the bar with Isaac, and I told him I’d meet him here.
“I can’t go in.” The words surprise me because instead of thinking them, I say them out loud.Run, Maeve. Run. If you don’t, you’re next. Again. The rational part of my brain tells me that I love Lincoln and running is a bad idea, but you can’t change who you are down to the DNA level this quickly. I rest my head against the steering wheel as I wage an internal battle. Lincoln’s been so distracted with the loss of his teammates and with survivor’s guilt that he hasn’t noticed that I’m drawing away from him. It’s my fault for not talking to him about it, but the weight of this narrowly sparing his life, is more than I can process.
I call Ramona as I pull out of the parking lot. I let my gaze land on the bar in the rearview mirror, but not for long. “Ramona,” I rasp the second she picks up. “I’m going to spend the night at your place tonight. Turner is with Lincoln’s parents. We’ll leave for Sonoma tomorrow morning together.” They arrived early to watch Turner during all of the different activities that go along with death. I’m thankful they’re there to care for him, but there’s no way I can even go back to that house to pack a bag. Seeing Turner will break my heart. I need to get away.
She pauses. “Why do I feel like you’re avoiding something?”
My breathing races. “I can’t do it. I have to leave. I have to get away.”
I hear Ramona talking to someone and then a door closes. “Are you home now? I’m going there now.”
“This, this, out of all of the things that’s happened, is what is triggering you? Maeve Lincoln is fine.”
“It’s not that. I mean, it is, but it isn’t. I can’t breathe.”
“Pull over, Maeve. Where are you?”
“Almost to your place,” I say, wheezing, as I drive into the parking lot and fall out of the car. My body doesn’t feel like my own. It feels heavy and wrong, and my lungs won’t take in enough air. Ramona stumbles outside, wearing a bathrobe.
“Jesus, Maeve, get in here.” She helps me stand, closes my car door and helps me up the stairs. I sit on her sofa and put my head between my legs.
“Why do they tell you to do this? It makes it even harder to breathe.” I’m panting laboriously as I throw my ringing phone across the room. Ramona hands me a glass of water and I take a tiny sip and set it on the coffee table. “I fucking hate this. Why does this always happen?”
“It’s a panic attack. It happens because you panic. In through your nose and out through your mouth.” Ramona hands me a stress ball she has sitting on top of her tv stand. I squeeze it as hard as I can, trying to make the fucking thing disintegrate, then watch it puff back up to its normal state. Repeating it over and over, my breathing calms and I’m not as desperate for oxygen. The engagement ring catches my eye, and I tear it off my finger and toss it in the direction of my ringing phone.
I shake my head, covering my nose and mouth with both hands. “I can’t do it. Who am I kidding? This was a horrible idea. How did it get this far?”
Ramona waves to Vin, who peeks his head out of the bedroom. I don’t acknowledge him because I’m too busy choking on my bad decisions. “You know you won’t think clearly until you’ve calmed all the way down. You also know that me telling you to calm down won’t help you calm down. Drink the water, think about your breaths, and I’ll deal with your ringing phone.” I do what she says, because even if I’m losing my mind at the moment, I recognize the truth in her words. Ramona picks up both my cell phone and my ring. She slides the ring on her right hand and answers the call.
“Hey, it’s Ramona. She’s with me.” That’s all I hear before Ramona goes into the bathroom and closes the door. She appears a few minutes later, and I’m still trying to get ahold of my heart rate.
“Dude, I don’t think he’s going to stay away. I told him to give you some time but it sounded like he was getting into a car the second I told him you were here.”
Standing, I pace the small space and tug at my hair. “How did I get in this deep? Why was I so careless and stupid?”
“You love him, Maeve. You’re in love with him. Love is always a little careless and definitely stupid. Stop beating yourself up over something you have no control over.”
That hits me like a gut punch. “But I should always have control over that.”
She laughs and tugs on the ties on her robe. “You are dumb for such an intelligent person. Do you think I particularly enjoyed going back to Stavros time and time again? Was it pure bliss forgiving him for the same thing over and over? Love is the one thing you have no control over and you shouldn’t.” She lowers her voice. “Which is a good thing because how would I explain him?” Ramona hikes a finger over her shoulder. “I can’t even begin to try.”
Processing her words takes a while, but it’s enough to pull me from the black fog. I’m calmer than I was moments before. I hate how panic attacks hit like a ton of bricks and leave like a feather. It doesn’t seem fair. I exhale slowly. “You’re right, but you know I’m going to sit with this for a while.”
She’s peering out the window. “You have about ten seconds, five if he runs.”
It takes him four seconds. Pounding on the door startles me. “Want me to get it?” she asks.