“Bro. What’s wrong with her?” Kent quietly asks.
I glare at my brother. “Nothing iswrongwith her. She’s having a severe anxiety attack.” I know Kent didn’t mean anything by that, but I hate that’s a typical response when people encounter someone with a mental health issue.
There isn’t anythingwrong.
She’sill.
Traumatized by her past and for good reason.
“Do you want me to help you lift her inside?” he asks, ignoring my burst of anger.
I shake my head. “I can’t touch her.”
He looks at me like I’ve grown two heads, but I don’t elaborate. Mom is the only person in our family who knows about Selena’s background and her illness.
I know my brothers think I was deliberately secretive about Selena. And, I guess I was. But her story isn’t my story to tell, and she’s always been so embarrassed over her PTSD and anxiety, and I would never betray her confidence. I haven’t told anyone about her. Not even when I’ve been tempted to speak the truth in her defense anytime Kent spews vitriol about her.
And I get it. My brother thinks he’s supporting me. He hates what our breakup has done to me, and he’s put all the blame squarely on Sel’s shoulders, because he doesn’t know any differently. I’m the only one who knows the complexity of our relationship and how nothing is normal with us. Especially not our breakup.
“Selena. Baby. It’s me. It’s Keanu. I’m here.” I speak up this time, and she stops rocking. “Let me help, baby. What can I do?”
Slowly, she raises her head, pushing messy strands of hair out of her swollen, bloodshot eyes. My heart melts, reminding me how crazy in love I am with this woman. Although I hate that she’s clearly upset, I can’t deny how fucking fantastic it is to see her again.
No measure of time apart will ever erase my feelings for her. Or destroy the connection we share.
“K?” she whispers.
“It’s me. I’m here for you.” Unbridled emotion smacks into me as her familiar scent of lavender and vanilla swirls around me. Being this close to her is torture. She’s obviously in pain, and I just want to make it all go away. I want to hold her so badly, but I won’t spook her.
“Hand me my backpack.” I stretch my arm out toward my brother. Kent hands me my bag, his face neutral as he watches me remove the small vial of lavender from the side pocket.
It’s sad to admit, but I still keep supplies on me wherever I go. Sometimes, I dab it on my wrist, needing the smell to keep the memory of her alive. But mainly, I do it because I spent years making sure I had everything I might need whenever we ventured out of her mom’s house, and I kept it up because I’m a sad pathetic prick who can’t let the past go.
“Sel.” I peer into her beautiful hazel eyes, which look more like brown today. It’s always the same when her emotions are heightened, and the brown becomes more prominent than the green and amber specks surrounding her pupils. “I’m going to dab some lavender on your wrist. Would that be okay?”
She nods, painstakingly stretching out her slim arm.
“I’m going to touch you now. Okay?” I look to her for permission, and she nods again, her eyes welling up. Very carefully, I drop a couple drops onto her wrist, massaging the oil in soft, slow circles. Then I lift her wrist to her face, positioning it under her nose. “Breathe in, baby.”
She moves her wrist flush against her nose, audibly inhaling.
“That’s it,” I encourage. “Breathe in and out. Slow and deep. I’ll do it with you.”
Kent hasn’t said a word, and his expression is giving nothing away, but he’s got to be wondering what the ever-loving fuck is going on.
But I ignore my brother, focusing on the vulnerable, broken girl in front of me, inhaling and exhaling with her, as she gradually calms down. When she seems a little more settled, I wet my lips and smile softly. “Do you want to come up to our place?”
Her big, beautiful eyes latch onto mine, and she nods. It’s like being sucker-punched in the nuts. This girl owns every part of me, and despite the pain, I wouldn’t have it any other way. “Can you walk or should I carry you?”
“I can walk,” she whispers, clambering awkwardly to her feet.
Kent opens the door, stepping inside and walking toward the elevator. Selena puts one foot in front of the other, swaying unsteadily, her long legs looking like they can’t hold her up. She grabs onto my arm, surprising me. “Can you…”
She doesn’t need to continue that sentiment because I know what she needs. My heart gallops around my chest, and I struggle to breathe over the massive ball of emotion lodged in my throat as I gently lift her up into my arms. Her arms encircle my neck and she rests her head on my shoulder, her breath puffing out against my skin, eliciting a rake of goose bumps.
Kent is miraculously quiet as we ride the elevator to the top. He shoots me an inquisitive look when we step out on our level, and I know he’ll need some answers. He opens our front door, holding it back as I step inside with the love of my life cradled in my arms, exactly where she belongs.
“Can I help?” he asks, as I move toward the couch.
