I flinched, stumbling away from him, my back hitting the building so hard my bones rattled.
“Don’t touch me.” The words burst out of me like a reflex.
Graham froze. He pulled back his hand, but kept it raised, palm out toward me. Everything was starting to spin. My ribs ached.
“I won’t touch you,” he said softly. “But I need you to breathe.”
My gaze shifted, vision blurring. I couldn’t. My lungs wouldn’t cooperate. My chest hurt so bad.
“Quinn.” Graham’s voice was sharper this time. “Look at me.”
I dragged my eyes back to his, unaware they’d even drifted away. There was an annoying buzzing in my ears.
“Breathe,” he said again. “With me, okay? In…and out.” His chest expanded, stilled as he held the air in, and then he let it out slowly.
He continued the exaggerated breathing, deep and even, the sound of his breaths anchoring me. It took a few tries before my own chest eased enough to mimic him. Air scraped down my sore throat.
He nodded at my shaky inhales. “Good. You’re doing good. Keep going.”
My racing heart slowed a fraction as the breaths became less labored. My head started to clear from the fog of panic. Graham came more into focus.
He was closer now, but he didn’t touch me. His hands were still up, held close to his body with palms out.
“You’re doing great,” he said, his lips trying to find a smile but not making it. “Can you tell me what happened?”
I blinked at him, my mind rebelling to recall, but I knew it was important to explain myself.
My chest hitched again as I tried to speak. My throat ached, though I couldn’t remember why. “There was—someone grabbed me. I think it was a man, but I—I didn’t see him.”
My eyes burned as pressure built behind them. Horror washed over me. I couldn’t cry. Not now. There would be plenty of time to cry when I was alone, when no one could hear it.
Graham’s expression sharpened. He looked me over again, assessing, lingering on my face, my shaking hands, my wobbling knees.
“Are you injured?” he asked slowly, pointedly.
I shook my head before I even thought about it. I was fine.
His eyes narrowed. “Quinn,” he sounded tense for the first time, “I think I need to call the police.”
I paled. “No.” I shook my head so hard it made me dizzy. “No police.”
His mouth fell into a harsh frown. “Quinn, I think you were attacked. We need to—”
“I saidno.” My voice was louder than I intended. I pressed back into the brick wall, needing the solidness to keep me from collapsing. “I don’t want—” My voice broke. I couldn’t stand the thought of the flashing lights. The questions. The looks of pity. I couldn’t do it. Not again.
Graham stood there, watching me. My breaths were hitching again, my heart racing so hard it felt like an ice pick splitting my bones.
“All right,” he said finally. “All right. No cops. Not right now.”
Relief washed over me, accompanied by a jab of guilt. I couldn’t explain to him. “Thank you,” I breathed. My fingers clung to the wall behind me, my legs on the verge of giving up entirely.
“Is there anyone else I could call for you? Someone who would want to know what happened?”
I stared at him blankly. There wasn’t anyone he could call who would care. “No.”
He hesitated, expression hardening as he looked around us.
“We can’t stay here,” he added, gently. “Can I take you somewhere safe?”
