Eli
17
I held Rowan as tightly as I could without hurting him, keeping him steady while he shook against me. His hands latched onto the back of my shirt, and his heart raced against my chest. Every sob came sharp and uneven, teetering on the edge of panic.
"Rowan," I whispered as calmly as I could. "Hey. Breathe. I've got you."
He didn't answer. He didn't even seem to hear me. He just kept clinging to me with his face pressed to my shoulder. Every inhale caught on a sob as he tried, and failed, to hold them in. I moved my hand slowly over his back to try to calm him down. I knew every movement must've caused him pain, but he still wouldn't let go.
My own chest ached with how hard my heart was pounding. I forced myself to take slow, even breaths, hoping he'd match them. I kept my voice low and repeated the same assurances over and over, even though he probably couldn't hear me over the noise in his own head.
The image of him gripping that call button frozen in panic wouldn't leave me. He'd looked terrified and so certain something was about to happen. Then the second he saw me... He just broke. Now I couldn't pry him off if I tried.
I was going to end Marcus. Not now, though. I neededto focus on Rowan.
I pressed a soft kiss into his hair and kept moving my hand gently. "You're okay. He's not going to hurt you again."
It took a while, but I finally felt him start to come down. The sobs began to lose some of their edge, tapering into quiet shudders, and his arms trembled from the effort of holding onto me. The panic didn't completely vanish, but it began to loosen its hold and give way to sheer exhaustion.
"You're safe, Ro," I murmured again. "He's not here."
He let out a small, shaky sigh of relief, and I pulled him in a little closer, careful not to press on his ribs. I didn't know how long we sat like that. Long enough for my legs to ache from the angle, but I didn't care. If this was what he needed, I wasn't moving.
Underneath the anger, something else crept in. A fierce, bone-deep protectiveness that made my chest burn. Rowan didn't deserve to be hurt like this. He didn't deserve to be left gasping for air and afraid to let go of me.
His fingers trembled and uncurled from my shirt as his grip finally began to relax. I eased back to get a look at his face. His eyes were bloodshot, his face was streaked with tears, and he looked wrecked.
I brushed my thumb gently along his cheek to catch the last of the tear tracks. "Better?"
He gave a small nod, so I guided him carefully back against the pillows. He didn't fully let go of my shirt, but his hold wasn't as desperate now. Just worn out. I hit the button to raise the bed a few inches, hoping it might take some pressure off his chest. As the angle changed, he let out the smallest sigh. The look on his face seemed less pained, almost relieved.
Once he was a little more upright, I noticed his hands were still shaking. I took them gently in mine and gave them a quiet, steady squeeze. His breathing still sounded a bit ragged, but I could see him trying to fight it down. Every inhale lookedlike it hurt, though.
"Take it slow," I said quietly. "Don't force it."
He nodded again, though I couldn't tell if it was an actual response or just a reflex. I kept my hands firmly around his to help him stay grounded. The heart monitor still beeped too fast, but not like it did before. It was settling. Slowly.
His brow knit together, his jaw tight as he focused on his breathing. I kept rubbing his hands, and gradually, the shaking began to ease up. After a few minutes, his chest didn't hitch so hard with every movement.
"There you go. You're doing good. Keep going."
His fingers tightened briefly around mine. At last, the heart machine began to slow to a steadier rhythm. I released a sigh of my own, unaware of how tense I'd been until my shoulders relaxed.
Another minute or two, and the tremor in his hands finally disappeared. I let go to reach for the plastic cup of water that sat on the table beside the bed. After pulling the lid off and adjusting the straw, I held it closer to his mouth. "Here. Take a sip."
He hesitated, then leaned forward to catch the straw between his lips. He sipped slowly, and I kept my hand steady, watching his face for any sign of discomfort. When he pulled back, he let out a slow, shaky breath. I set the cup aside and took his hand again as I waited for him to come back to himself.
His eyes drifted down to our hands, then back up to my face. The panic seemed to be gone, but a dazed look had taken its place. When he opened his mouth, no sound came out. He cleared his throat and closed his eyes, as if trying to force his thoughts into order.
Finally, his voice came out, hoarse and rough. "How... How are you here?"
I debated for a second on how to answer him. "I got impatient. I couldn't wait and went to your flat to catch youwhen you got home. Your neighbour saw me and said she heard noises at your place."
Rowan just stared at me. Honestly, I wasn't sure he heard everything I said. His eyes looked glassy, and I could see how unfocused they were.
"I knew something was wrong when I saw the door was unlocked. I found you on the floor in the bedroom, but I ... I couldn't wake you up." I swallowed around the tightness in my throat and threaded our fingers together.
His hand curled weakly around mine, cold and fragile in my hold.
