“It is not my fault you were oblivious to your surroundings,” he replied coolly as he followed. “Typical. You were always careless about your own safety.”
That made me stop dead.
I turned to face him and found him far too close for comfort. “What are you even doing here?” I snapped. “Do not tell me you decided to take a stroll in those shoes.” I pointed pointedly at his feet.
“Of course not,” he scoffed. “What kind of idiot do you think I am? I went to your cottage first. When I saw you climbing this hill, I figured I could catch up.”
His eyes swept over me, then he smirked.
“Who knew those short legs of yours could move that fast.”
I was about to snap back when I noticed what he was holding.
A document.
“What is that?” I asked sharply. “You finally had the finalized offer ready?”
“Do you really think I gave a damn about the shop right now,” he snapped back, “when I just found out I had a son?”
His jaw tightened.
“You were right. I had been busy these past few days. Gathering information about our son.” He held the document out to me. “This is the custody agreement. Read it. Sign it.”
The world tilted.
I went pale, frozen as I stared at the paper in his hand. This had to be a nightmare. I had never imagined it would happen this fast. I had never thought he would actually do the very thing I feared most.
I was going to lose my son.
“I… I need a moment—”
The words broke apart as my breath suddenly slipped away from me. My chest tightened painfully, as if an invisible band were crushing my ribs. Panic surged without warning. I pushed at him, desperate, as my vision blurred and dizziness rushed in all at once.
I barely registered myself going limp before a pair of strong hands caught me, keeping me from hitting the ground.
“Hey. Bailey,” Ashton said urgently. “Breathe. You are having a panic attack.”
“Can’t… can’t breathe,” I gasped. “Go… away.”
I tried to shove him off, but there was no strength left in my arms. He did not budge.
“Listen to me,” he said, his voice dropping, steady and calm. “Just breathe through your mouth. Slowly. Do not fight it.”
I clung to his words, forcing myself to follow them. One shaky inhale. Two slow exhales. Three. The tightness eased just enough for air to slip back in.
He grabbed my water bottle, twisted it open, and carefully tipped it to my lips. The cool water grounded me. My vision sharpened as the spinning finally slowed.
“Let me up… please,” I whispered.
“Are you sure you are alright now?” he asked, still holding me.
“Yes,” I said weakly. “I think I was fine… just my ego bruised.”
“Does this happen often?” His brow creased with concern as he helped me to my feet. “The panic attacks?”
“Only when I was around you,” I muttered.
“This was not the time for jokes, Bailey.”
