It was the only thing that cut through the dread.
“Skye, honey, please talk to me. Look at me, baby. Please.”
My limbs were heavy, like lead was coursing through my veins, as I turned my head and met his gaze.
He looked like someone was slowly killing him. I’d only seen that face once before, and I’d swore I’d never cause an expression like that to cross his face again.
“What’s wrong?” He cupped my face in both of his hands. He leaned in, his labored breaths washing over my sweat-slicked skin.
“I’m—I’m so sorry,” I stammered, barely able to speak over the involuntary sobs.
“Don’t.” He shook his head once. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
I couldn’t. How could I explain? There was no rationalizing the irrational.
“I—I…” There were no words to comfort him. No words to comfortme. “I think I’m dying.”
Any color that was left in his face drained. His arms tightened around me. “Where does it hurt?”
I saw the gears turning in his brain, trying to come up with a plan to fix this. But there was no fixing me. I had been trying for years. I was broken.
“Where’s your phone?” he asked, urgently.
I stared at him.
“I left mine on the bed. We need to call 911.”
I shook my head. He didn’t understand. “No.”
His hands ran over my body, as if he were looking for wounds he wouldn’t find. “Where are you injured?”
“I’m not…I’m not actually dying,” I choked out. “I just…think that I am.”
He froze. His brow crumpled in confusion and a dash of relief. His hands slid up my jaw, through my hair, and cradled the back of my neck. “Talk. To. Me. Skye,” he croaked, sounding like he was a moment away from breaking, too. “Please.”
I shook my head. Where did I start?
“Panic attack,” was all I said before burying my face in his chest.
He pulled me against him. Nothing but the rushing of my pulse pounded in my ears, making me want to vomit. It was too fast. Too loud.
I let out another sob because I hated feeling like I was being strangled by impending doom and I couldn’t stop it. I was helpless.
“What can I do for you?” Fox whispered desperately.
I shook my head. There was nothing. There never was. This hadn’t happened in so long. I had started to think I was done with them.
He rubbed my back, a rhythmic, soothing up and down motion. I tried to focus on my breathing, tried to take deep, even breaths, but it didn’t help. I was a mess.
“I just—I have to wait till it passes,” I gasped.
His arms tightened around me. “Fuck that,” he muttered. Then, without warning, he stood up, cradling me in his arms.
Instinctively, I looped my arms around his neck. “What are you doing?” I looked up, the tears cooling on my wet face.
His expression was hard now. Eyes determined instead of sad. “Do you trust me?”
“What?”
