“Young man,” a man’s deep voice cut in. “You don’t know our daughter’s history or her needs. June requires certain support structures that—”
“With all due respect, sir, June’s a grown woman who knows what she needs better than anyone. And right now, what she needs is for you to trust her judgment.”
June was hugging herself tighter now, her rocking becoming more pronounced. I needed to end this call and help her.
“Look, I have to go,” I said. “June needs me. But you should know that your daughter is incredible. She’s smart and kind and honest in a way most people aren’t brave enough to be. You should be really fucking proud of her. I know I am.”
I hung up before they could respond, setting the phone face-down on the nightstand. June was clearly in some kind of distress—a meltdown or shutdown or whatever the proper term was. I’d seen her get overwhelmed before when too many people were talking at once, but nothing like this.
“June? Hey, look at me.” I knelt in front of her, wanting to touch her but afraid it might make things worse. “What do you need?”
She didn’t respond, just kept rocking, her breathing fast and shallow. Fuck. Where was Milo when I needed him? He was the one who knew how to handle shit like this, who always knew the right thing to say, the right thing to do. I was just the fuckup who broke things and walked away.
I closed my eyes, trying to center myself. What would Milo do in this situation? And then I heard it—Milo’s voice in my head, a memory from years ago when I’d had a panic attack after my dad had shown up at the apartment Milo and I shared.
“Breathe, X. Just breathe. In for five, hold for five, out for five. Count with me.”
I opened my eyes, moving to sit directly in front of June. “June, I’m going to try something, okay? We’re going to breathe together. In for five, hold for five, out for five.”
I started counting, keeping my voice low and steady. “In—two—three—four.”
For a few breaths, she didn’t seem to hear me, still lost in whatever storm was raging inside her. But then, gradually, her breathing began to sync with my counting. Her rocking slowed, her grip on her knees loosening slightly.
“That’s it,” I encouraged, continuing to count. “You’re doing great.”
After what felt like forever but was probably only a few minutes, June’s eyes opened. They were clearer now, focused on me.
“Xavier,” she said softly.
I reached out instinctively, cupping her face in my hand. “Hey. You back with me?”
To my surprise, June laughed—a small, fragile sound, but a laugh nonetheless. “I don’t usually like being touched on the face,” she said. “It’s a sensory thing. Most hands feel... wrong.”
“Oh, shit, sorry.” I quickly yanked my hand away, but she caught it and pressed it back to her cheek.
“No. Yours and Milo’s hands are different,” she said, her eyes closing as she leaned into my touch. “I don’t know, maybe it’s the calluses. Your fingers are just the right kind of prickly, scrappy feeling. I like it.”
“Do you like this?” I asked, running my thumb along her jawline.
She sighed, a sound of pure contentment that sent heat straight to my groin. “Just like that.”
We sat in silence for a moment, June leaning into my touch, her breathing now slow and regular. The sunlight had shifted, no longer falling across the bed but illuminating the far wall instead. Time passed while we sat suspended in this strangely intimate moment.
“Thank you,” she said finally, opening her eyes. “For what you said to my parents. They worry, probably a little too much...” She trailed off, looking away. “You’re a good man, Xavier.”
I laughed, the sound harsh even to my own ears. “Not even close, June-bug. But I appreciate the sentiment.”
She started to argue, but my phone buzzed in my jeans pocket on the floor. I ignored it at first, not wanting to break this moment, but when it buzzed again immediately, I knew it was trouble.
“Hold that thought,” I said, retrieving my phone. My stomach dropped as I saw the texts from my boss.
WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU
GET YOUR ASS HERE NOW OR DON’T BOTHER COMING BACK
“Shit,” I muttered. I’d forgotten I had a shift this morning. I glanced at the time—8:17. I was beyond late.
“What’s wrong?” June asked, watching my face.
