“Explain what?”
I motion to the bathroom stall. “Whatever that was! You left me hanging for ten minutes, and I found you sobbing on the floor. I think I deserve an explanation.”
She won’t meet my eyes, and her shouldersdeflate with an invisible weight. “I’ll tell you when we’re back in the truck. Please, let’s go.”
A protest sits on the tip of my tongue, but the weary look in her eyes stops me from voicing it aloud. I have to trust she’ll tell me later; I don’t want to add to her distress. I follow her out of the bathroom, back to our discarded carts.
We get through the checkout line and load everything in the back of the truck in silence. When we finally get into the truck, her shoulders relax a fraction. Her head slumps against the seat, and she takes a few deep breaths, her fingers tapping on her knees.
“I get panic attacks sometimes,” she finally whispers.
“Was it because of that bitchy lady?”
“Yes and no. I have anxiety and struggle a lot with being in big crowds. The lights were so bright, and there was so much noise. Her running into our cart spooked me. Then she yelled at me, and you wanted to split up, and I didn’t want to be a burden, but I couldn’t reach one of the items because it was too far back. I was working up the courage to find someone to help, but it all got too overwhelming. I ran to the bathroom to calm down. I’m sorry it took so long and that I worried you.”
“I’m confused. You say you struggle with big crowds, but we met at arodeo.You didn’t seem to be panicking then.”
As soon as the words come out of my mouth, I wish I could take them back. Juniper’s entire body tenses, and her knuckles turn white.
I’m an asshole.
“I don’t recall meeting you before,” she clips, but continues before I can reply. “And it doesn’t happen all the time. I didn’t sleep well last night, and the last few weeks have been stressful. There’s lots to do now that the ranch is opening early. I’m fine. Can we forget about it and move on? I’d like to get home.”
There’s no way in hell I’m forgetting the stricken expression on her face in the bathroom or the sheen of tears in her eyes. I’m not ignoring the ache in my chest at her dismissal of our timetogether, even if I was the one who put us in this position in the first place.
Is this how she felt last week, like a 2,000-pound bull was pulverizing her heart? If she did, no wonder she ran out of there. I want to jump out of this truck and storm off. Or tell her I knew exactly who she was the second I walked in the door. It threw me for a loop, and I reacted poorly.
So, no. I can’t forget it, but I don’t think forcing her to open up is a good idea. I think it would push her further away.
Isn’t that what’s best, though? Keeping her at a distance? We’ve spent four hours together, and I’m already invested. I want to dig deeper, learn more about Juniper Calhoun. I want to know what helps keep her calm, and how to help if this happens again. I want to reach for my phone and look up everything about anxiety and panic attacks.
But she’s playing along as if we don’t know each other. As if we’re strangers. I guess, technically, we are. One night together doesn’t mean we know each other beyond the surface.
Why do I find myself wanting to dive deeper?
“Yeah,” I say. “Sure. We can move on. Do you want me to go into the next store alone so you can have a few minutes to yourself?”
She blinks her big blue eyes at me like she didn’t expect that answer. “If you don’t mind… I’m okay to go in if it’s too much of a bother.”
“It’s not a bother. I don’t want you exhausting yourself. Why don’t you drop me off, take a minute, maybe grab us lunch, and when you come back, we can load up?”
“I can do that. What do you want to eat?”
“I don’t care. I’m not picky.”
“Right. Okay. All the options then. Good. Let’s go.”
I think Juniper might have anxiety around making decisions, too.
After I loaded the back, I got in, and she handed me a bag with a cheeseburger, chicken tenders, fries, onion rings, tater tots,anda grilled chicken salad.
I motion to the bag. “What’s yours?”
“Oh, it’s all for you. I already ate. I also ordered you a shake and got two drinks, so you have options.”
“I’m not going to be able to eat all of this.”
“Just eat what you want, then. Oh!” She hands me a full, heavy bag of sauces; probably every sauce option they had. “Here’s some sauces.”
