Page 9 of Tainted Tempos

“Where the hell is Aiden?” Levi states.

“He’ll be here soon,” Derek says. “He’s on his way with Jess and Kimberly.”

“In the meantime?” Levi asks. “Any ideas?”

“Fuck.” Derek sighs. “We hide out in the hotel, don’t talk to the fucking press, and...” He must gesture toward the bedroom, toward me, because awkwardness ensues.

“I’ll talk to her,” Allegra says.

“No,” Maverick interjects. “I will.”

Their voices are far away, and yet, I hear them. Absorb them.

They punch into my gut like a fist and I drop to my knees.

Curling into myself, I gasp for breath.

A knock sounds on the door. It creaks open slowly. The latch catches softly.

“Mckenna.” Maverick’s voice is even. Low and steady and careful. “Mckenna!” Persistent now as he drops to the floor beside me. “Shh, beauty, I’m here.” He pulls me into his lap.

His hands are warm as they track over my skin. “Are you hurt?”

I whimper. Ice-cold tears prick the corners of my eyes, but I don’t feel them fall.

“Mckenna, fuck, talk to me, beauty.” His voice breaks. “What’s happening, sweetheart?” He rocks me in his arms as I try to breathe. “Shh, I’m here. You’re okay. We’ll figure this out. I promise; I swear it to you.” He strokes my hair soothingly as I fall apart.

Time passes. My mind swirls. I focus on the feel of Maverick’s touch, the beige hotel carpet, and the murmuring voices on the other side of the door.

As my shudders cease and my lungs catch air, I relax in his hold. I temporarily banish Branson from my mind and try to recall why Maverick is holding me. Apologizing to me.

“I can’t handle it if you hate me. I know I fucked up, but I swear, I thought you wanted...us. I never would have... It kills me that... Mckenna, I’m so fucking sorry.”

I lift my head and take in his remorseful eyes. They’re bleeding blue.

He looks broken. Shattered. Haunted.

Is he mirroring my reflection back to me?

“Hate you?” I repeat, trying to catch up. I hate Branson, not Mav. Besides… “Don’t you hate me?”

Confusion twists his expression. “What? I could never hate you.”

“I don’t understand.” I shake my head as if to clear the remnants of that long-ago night from my mind. For years, I couldn’t remember anything. Now, it’s coming back in waves.

Massive barrel waves that threaten to drown me. Part of me wants them to.

But there’s safety in Mav’s presence—security in his touch. With him, I can come up for air and suck in a lungful.

During the past few months, Maverick’s become my closest confidant, whether I want him to be or not. He’s consistently shown up for me, and deep down, I trust him.

“Me neither,” he says slowly, his eyes studying mine. He takes my hand and holds my fingers. “You’re ice cold,” he comments, cupping my hands between his and blowing on my fingers. When he looks up, his eyes are unreadable. “Mckenna, talk to me. Tell me what you’re thinking. Because it looks like you just had a full-blown panic attack, and I—God, Mckenna—I hate that I caused that.”

“You didn’t,” I refute, knowing I need to tell him the truth. I need to erase the agony lining his face.

“But you don’t remember last night,” he prods.

“I don’t remember last night,” I admit slowly. “But I?—”

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