“Good,” he murmurs. “Just stay with me. We’re going to slow your breathing down, alright? In through your nose.”
“I can’t get it in,” I manage. My chest feels too tight, heat presses against the inside of my skin. At the same time, my hands are numb. “It won’t—”
“You can.” His voice is steady. “Not a huge breath. Just a small one. In through your nose. Right now.”
I try. Air drags in, jerky and thin, but it’s something.
“Yeah,” he says quietly. “That’s it. Now hold it. One… two…”
I hold it.
“Now out through your mouth. Slow as you can.”
I blow the air out, and it shakes on the way.
“Good,” he says. “Again. In.”
He breathes with me—chest rising and falling in my peripheral vision—counting in this low, even murmur. No touching. His hands stay visible and empty, fingers flexing once like he has to remind himself not to reach for me.
The room’s still too warm, but the squeezing eases a little. The roar in my ears fades enough that I can hear the wind outside again, battering the house.
“In,” he says. “Hold. Out.”
My lungs listen to him more than they listen to me. The air starts going in a bit deeper. My fingers uncurl from the phone.
“There you go,” he says. “That’s better. Keep going.”
We cycle through a few more breaths like that. The walls stop inching closer. The ceiling climbs back to where it should be. By the time my heart stops trying to sprint out of my chest, my throat hurts and my eyes are stupidly wet.
“Well,” Silas says from behind him, voice rougher than before. “Guess the lawyer’s really staying.”
Felix shoots him a look over his shoulder that shuts him up. “Really, Silas? Not cool.”
He turns his attention back to me. “You’re okay,” he says. “Your body just hit the panic button. Happens to a lot of people in storms.”
“I can’t leave, I can’t get out.”
“I know.” He tilts his head slightly, his voice gentle. “And yeah, that’s a lot. But you’re inside, the heat’s working, and you’re with three guys who know how to keep a place running in extreme conditions. Could be worse.”
“How long do you think this storm is gonna last?" I ask.
“A day, maybe two," Liam finally speaks, quiet but certain. "We’ve had worse."
“Maybe two days,” I repeat, throat tight. My mind jumps ahead automatically to all the work I'm supposed to be doing, my upcoming meetings… “I don’t even have… anything. No clothes, no toiletries, nothing.”
My handbag sits next to me, small and useless-looking. Inside: phone charger, wallet, DuoBlocks. That’s it. I hadn’t planned to stay longer than a few hours. I hadn’t planned to stay at all.
Felix follows my gaze. "We’ve got backup power and water. Even clothes that should fit you. And if you don't like them, we have a washer and dryer. So worst case, you’ll get very familiar with that outfit over the next forty-eight hours.”
A startled laugh escapes before I can swallow it down. It sounds a little wild, but it’s a laugh.
“How much food?” I ask. “Be honest. I’m a planner. If we’re rationing, I need to know now.”
Felix glances over his shoulder at Silas and Liam, then back at me.
“Full honesty?” he says. “We were supposed to hit the grocery store today. Didn’t happen. So we’re not exactly prepped for the apocalypse.”
“Of course you weren’t,” I mutter.
