The car lurches to a halt.“Here, Miss?”His question is laced with cautious concern.
“Yes,” I mumble, fumbling for the fare.
I stumble onto the sidewalk, gasping for breath.
The house where I threw my future away looms across the street.
Dark.
Silent.
My stomach twists.
Standing here for the second time tonight makes my head spin.The front yard stretches out, a manicured lawn elevated above a low stone wall.Heart lodged in my throat, I climb the two wide steps to the flagstone path.Kicking off my heels, I drop my bag beside them and step onto the grass.The blades are soft and cool beneath my bare feet.
Minutes stretch into an eternity.
Panic tightens its grip.
Every breath is a painful reminder this moment is real.The vastness of the night presses in.Even driving alone from state to state, I never felt this adrift.This aloneness is an icy hand squeezing the air from my lungs.
My phone slips from my numb fingers.I clutch the rough bark of the nearest tree, the coarse texture grounding me.Sweat beads on my forehead, plastering the synthetic curls to my skin.Bitter bile rises in my throat.I swallow hard, pressing my forehead to the bark.
“Is everything okay out there?”A voice, deep and resonant, carries across the lawn.
I jerk upright.
A figure steps out of the shadows.Tall.Broad-shouldered.His features are indistinct, but his stance is firm.
“Sorry.”My reply is thin.“I’m… looking…” I push away from the tree.“Looking for…” The words are thick on my tongue.
I stumble forward.The ground shifts.The grass rushes up to meet me.
“Whoa.”
I slam into a solid wall of muscle.
Arms shoot out to steady me.
My head spins against his shoulder.
“S—sorry.”I grip the thin fabric covering his chest.“I need to go—”
“You need to sit.”His command is a low, gravelly rumble that vibrates through my bones.
“Can’t.No time.”I push away, eyes searching for the small pool of light from my phone.
I lower myself to retrieve it.The world tilts precariously, but I manage to grab the small rectangle.With a shaky breath, I push myself up, hands braced on my knees.
Deep breaths.
In.Out.
In.Out.
“This is my front yard, you know,” he says.
“Yes,” I breathe, my attention fixed on the illuminated patch of grass.“I know.”
