"Oh thank god," Silas breathes out, dropping to his knees in front of the kids. "You guys scared us. What happened?"
"We were looking for flowers," Riley explains, holding up her collection of leaves instead. "And then we were explorers! Look at all the different leaves we found!"
Isaac runs to Silas, launching himself at his father with the complete trust of a child who knows he'll be caught. "We were on an adventure, Dad! Miss Amelia said we were explorers!"
Silas pulls both kids into his arms, holding them tight, his eyes squeezed shut. Over their heads, his gaze finds mine, and I see the moment he really looks at me. The moment he sees past the smile I'm still forcing onto my face and recognizes the panic attack I'm barely holding at bay.
"Why don't you guys tell Wyatt all about your explorer adventure," Silas says gently, releasing the kids. "Show him all the leaves you found. I need to talk to Miss Amelia for a minute, okay?"
The kids immediately swarm Wyatt, chattering about their leaf collection and how they were super brave explorers. Wyatt catches my eye over their heads, something dark and concerned in his expression, but he lets Silas handle it, gathering the kids and starting to guide them back toward what I assume is the main trail.
The second the kids are out of sight, my composure crumbles like wet paper.
My knees buckle. I don't even feel myself starting to fall, don't register the ground rushing up to meet me, but then Wyatt is there his hands catching my elbows, keeping me upright.
"I've got you," he murmurs, and then he's pulling me against his chest, one arm wrapped around my waist, the other hand cradling the back of my head. "Breathe with me, sweetheart. In and out. You're safe. I've got you."
But I can't breathe. My chest is locked up tight, my lungs refusing to expand, black spots swimming across my vision. My hands clutch at his shirt, fisting in the fabric, anchoring myself to him because he's the only solid thing in a world that's spinning out of control.
"In through your nose," Wyatt instructs, his voice low and steady against my ear. "Come on, sweetheart. Follow me. In for four."
He takes a deep, exaggerated breath, his chest expanding against mine. I try to follow, try to drag air into my collapsed lungs, but it comes in as a thin, wheezing gasp.
"That's it, that's good. Now hold for four." He holds his breath, waiting, and I try to do the same even though every instinct is screaming at me to gasp and pant and struggle. "Now out for four. Nice and slow."
He exhales, the breath warm against my temple, and I try to copy him. It takes several cycles, his steady counting and the solid warmth of his body against mine, before my breathing starts to even out. Before the black spots recede and the world stops tilting quite so violently.
When I can finally breathe without feeling like I'm suffocating, he walks me a few steps away from where Silas has the kids distracted, settling me down on a fallen log. He sits next to me, close enough that our thighs press together, and doesn't let go of my hand.
"What happened?" he asks gently.
"We got lost," I whisper, my voice raw and broken. "The kids wanted to look at flowers and I thought we were close enough to the trail but then I looked up and I couldn't see it anymore and I didn't know which way to go and—"
My voice cracks, words dissolving into a sob I can't quite hold back. Wyatt pulls me against his side, tucking my face into his shoulder, his hand running soothing patterns up and down my spine.
"You weren't lost for long," he says softly. "Twenty minutes, maybe. We noticed you'd wandered off the trail and started looking."
Twenty minutes. That's all it was. But it had felt like hours, like a lifetime, like being back in that parking lot with Vincent's taillights disappearing into the dark.
"I'm sorry," I choke out. "I should have been more careful. I should have kept them closer to the trail. If something had happened to them—"
"Nothing happened to them," Wyatt interrupts firmly. "They're fine. You're fine. Everyone is safe."
"But I panicked." The shame of it burns through me, hot and acidic. "They could see me panicking and I tried to hide it but I couldn't breathe and the trees were closing in and all I could think about was—"
I cut myself off before I can finish that sentence, before I can tell him about Vincent and the parking lots and the rest stops and all the times I was left behind as punishment. Before I can expose just how broken I really am.
But Wyatt seems to understand anyway. His arm tightens around me, holding me closer. "What triggers you?" he asks quietly. "Being alone? Being lost?"
"Being abandoned," I admit, the word scraped raw from somewhere deep in my chest. The shame of saying it out loud is almost worse than the panic attack itself. "He used to... Vincentused to leave me places. Parking lots, rest stops, once at a mall three towns over without my phone or wallet. He'd drive away and leave me there and I'd have to figure out how to get home or wait for him to come back and I never knew if he would come back and—"
I'm crying now, the tears hot and humiliating on my cheeks. Wyatt doesn't say anything, just holds me tighter, his hand steady on my back, letting me shatter against him.
When the tears finally slow, when I can breathe again without sobbing, he pulls back just enough to tilt my face up with his fingers under my chin. His blue eyes are blazing with something that looks like fury, but his touch is gentle.
"You're not alone anymore," he says, and there's steel underneath the softness. "Not ever. Do you understand? We will never leave you behind. Not in a parking lot, not in the woods, not anywhere. You're not a chore to be abandoned when someone's pissed off. You're—"
He stops, his jaw working like he's fighting with words that won't come. Then he takes a breath and tries again.
