Poor Paul. This has to be the most uncomfortable situation for him to be in. Sure, he comes around our group with Justin on occasion—we are the type of people who will welcome anyone who isn’t an asshole (Tucker and Chance notwithstanding) to hang—but he hasn’t been fully initiated. For him to be the one stuck with me when I’m a bawling mess with snot running out of my nose who’s unable to formulate coherent sentences? Yeah, someone drew the short stick.
“You have nothing to apologize for. I know how much you love your dog. It’s perfectly understandable to be upset.”
“You know…” I let out a humorless laugh. “I was just thinking how unfortunate it is for you to be the one stuck with me when I’m like this.” I circle a finger at all the fabulousness that is me at the moment. Can you hear the sarcasm? I am the perfect picture of ugly crying here. “But if it were any of the other guys driving me, they would be giving me shit.”
“Not your brother,” he counters.
“Especially my brother.” I tuck a leg underneath me as I turn in my seat to face him. “For real though, Paul…thank you.”
His keeps his gaze on the road as he navigates us around shore traffic, but it flits to me a few times. “Your brother is my partner, and you’re his sister. He’s got my back, and I have yours.”
As annoying as their overprotectiveness can be at times, one of the things I’ve always loved and valued about my brothers and those they work with is their brothers-in-arms mentality. With my dad now a police chief, I have experienced a lot of the same with his guys. It’s nice to see Justin got paired with such a like-minded person for a partner.
I flip my phone over and over in my hands, desperate for something to do, way too fucking antsy to sit still but needing to be in a car to get where we’re going. I should text the girls to distract me, but I’m past the point where a Coven Conversation will do anything.
My foot beats a tap-tap-tap-tap-tap on the floorboard, and I’ve taken out and redone my ponytail a few dozen times.
Flip the phone.
Tap the foot.
Redo ponytail.
Over and over I repeat these steps, needing an outlet for all the anxious energy coursing through me.
“Maddey.” Paul’s calming tone washes over me. “You need to try to relax. You won’t be any help to Trident if you send yourself into a panic attack before we even get there.”
He’s right, I know he is, but it doesn’t make me feel any better.
“If you have a panic attack, I’ll be forced to pull the car over to help you work through it before you’re the one passing out.” He chances another glance at me. “And if I do that, it will only delay our arrive at the animal hospital.”
That gets my attention. Delays are not acceptable. Paul is already pushing the speed limit, but I’m tempted to ask—to beg for him to go faster.
Doing my best to channel my inner Rocky and all the yogi breathing she has taught me through the years, I work on getting myself under control.
Breathe in…the car eats up another mile toward our destination.
Breathe out…the thump-thump-thump of the wheels spinning under us.
Breathe in…a glance at the clock on the dash.
Breathe out…doing my best to calculate how much longer our drive should be.
“If you need something to drink, there should be a bottle of water in the door.” I flop my head to the side and scrunch my brows together, causing Paul to chuckle. “When my adrenaline is pumping, I get crazy cotton mouth. Figured I’d offer in case you were the same.”
Feeling around inside the cutout of the door panel, my hand meets the soft plastic of a water bottle inside the cupholder.
The crack of the seal opening interrupts the silence, and I guzzle the whole thing down in one go that would make any beer-chugging frat boy proud. I even go as far as crushing the bottle against my forehead because…well…I needed to do something, anything to distract me, and the move made me laugh.
Jesus Christ this whole thing is going to end up taking years off my life. How the hell do Jordan, Rocky, and Beth handle feeling this way? It’s gotta be a million times worse for them since they actually birthed their babies, whereas I picked mine from a breeder.
Shit! How the hell am I supposed to handle procreating?
Well, young whippersnapper, you’ll never have to worry about that if you keep running away from your feelings like you’ve been doing.
She doesn’t need a man to have a baby.
This is true. There are plenty of attractive turkey basters out there.
I ignore the voices, not having the energy to deal with them right now. Honestly, I’m surprised they were even able to butt in on what is happening.
Continuing my breathing, I shut my eyes and lean my head against the cool glass of the window.
Hold on, baby. Mommy’s coming.
Chapter Forty-Nine
The moment we arrive at the animal hospital, two technicians whisk both dogs and the four of us humans to two exam rooms. I don’t know if it was Maddey calling ahead or the two star hockey players that prompted the expedited service, but you aren’t going to hear a complaint from me.
The rooms they’ve taken us to are connected, and we have the door between them open so we can get updates in real time.
Have you ever seen a lion at the zoo? How it paces back and forth in its cage or behind a glass wall? Now imagine that times four—that’s what we look like. Justin and me in one room, Ryan and Jake in another, probably making both veterinarians and their techs nervous while they work.
We’ve been here ten minutes and Maddey still hasn’t arrived. Yes, Justin drove with the lights and sirens on, but I highly doubt Paul is obeying traffic laws, not with Maddey in the car. My girl would bat her lashes and flash her dimples to get here as quickly as possible.
We were texting earlier but she hasn’t checked in for a while, so I pull out my phone to give her an update. Those three bouncing dots never come. Weird.
I try calling her, but it goes straight to voicemail. Did her phone die?
“Just?”
It takes a few seconds for my best friend to take his eyes off the dog sleeping on the table and lift them to me. “Hmm?”
“Can you call Paul? I think Tink’s phone died or something, and they should have been here by now.”
“Yeah, sure—right. Good point.” He’s so distracted I’m surprised he actually does it.
My pacing stops so I can focus on the side of the conversation I can hear.
“Hey, man, just checking in to see where you’re at.” There’s a pause while Justin waits for his partner to answer then he says, “Oh, shit.”
My whole body goes on alert at the curse. What’s wrong? Is my girl okay?
“What happened?” I move in closer to hear both sides of the conversation.
“They got a flat,” Justin answers. That’s not good. I can only imagine how much Maddey is bouncing off the walls—or in this case, the interior of the car—at the delay.
“How are the dogs?” Paul asks before grunting, obviously still in the middle of changing the tire.
Justin relays the little bit we know, but the only thing I can focus on is the clawing need I feel to talk to Maddey.