Ryder nods thoughtfully. “Ah. Did you have something specific in mind?”
I shake my head. “Nothing seems right.”
He looks pensive. Then he starts patting his pockets and pulls out a keychain. “Maybe this would work,” he says, handing it to me.
I look at the glittering green lizard in my hand. It’s heavier than I expected, made out of a smooth, translucent stone. “A…gecko?” I ask.
“Chameleon,” he replies. “His name is Galileo.”
I arch a brow at him. “You named your keychain?”
He shrugs and gives me a lopsided smirk, sending my heart fluttering. “He’s a cool little dude.”
I look back down at the chameleon—Galileo—and feel a smile form on my face. “I think this could work.” A moment of guilt washes over me. “Are you sure? Is this special to you?”
He pauses, then smirks, but keeps an intense look in his gray eyes. “I think he serves a higher purpose with you.” He pulls up his sleeve, showing me the bracelet I made him.He still wears it?“Besides, I’ve got this now.”
I wrap my fingers tightly around Galileo, my eyes still on Ryder. The chameleon’s little legs and tail press into my palm, and a weight is lifted off my chest.
Ryder grins at me, and we stand there smiling at each other for a minute. In a flash, the smile disappears, and now he’s all serious. “Ready to go?” he asks.
I’m taken aback by his sudden change in mood. Furrowing my brow, I nod.
His expression softens, and he asks. “Are you nervous?”
“Not really. It helps knowing that I’m just visiting Mason and Madeleine.”And knowing that you’ll be here, I think but don’t say.
He holds open the door for me, and we pad down the steps of the tower. Agatha’s already waiting for us at thebottom of the stairs, a big grin on her face. “Have a lovely evening, you two.”
“Thank you, Aunt,” I say, giving her a big hug.
She squeezes me tight and whispers in my ear. “You’ll be safe. Enjoy yourself.” She releases me and turns to Ryder. “Have fun. Be safe.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replies.
Then we head out onto the cold, dark street. Alone.
There’s no one out here—that was the whole point of going out this late at night—but I can’t help the way my heart races in my chest, my breathing starting to feel tight, my…
“How did your therapy session go?” Ryder asks, interrupting my thoughts.
“Great, actually,” I reply, forcing myself to focus on Ryder. “Raquel is really sweet and encouraging.”
“Yeah?”
I nod, taking a deep breath before explaining. “When I told her about the panic attack at the market, she made me feel like what I went through was normal, and that my body is just reacting to the stress of being in public again. As if it’s in danger, even though it’s just imagined in my mind, and that my brain is trying to protect me. And then she told me I was brave for trying.” I blink back tears, just like the ones that fell during my therapy session when I felt like I was finally understood and heard.
I clear my throat and continue. “She gave me a few tips. One is box breathing, where I inhale for four counts, hold for four counts, exhale for four counts, and hold for four counts. It’s similar to what you…” My voice trails off at the memory of my hand on Ryder’s chest when he told me to match his breathing.
I don’t think I enjoyed that as fully as I could have.
“Slowing your breathing down is one of the fundamental steps,” he says, seemingly not flustered in the least.
“Right. Yes. And then she said our idea of introducing me back into public with smaller groups sounded like the perfect plan, gradually working my way to the larger festivals and markets.”
“That’s great,” Ryder says. “I’m so glad you met with her.”
“Me, too.”
