The pounding on the glass pulls me back to the garage but the past won't let go completely. I'm here and I'm there, sixteen and twenty-eight, equally trapped.Is this ever going to stop? Will I ever outrun it?
I can't pull in a full breath no matter how hard I try. My chest is locked, frozen, refusing to expand. My heart slams against my ribs so hard it hurts and everything spins even though I'm sitting perfectly still. The trembling in my hands spreads through my whole body until I can't grip anything, can't control anything, and bile burns up the back of my throat.
The noise builds and builds. Pounding. Shouting. Flashing lights. But it's starting to sound muffled, as if I'm sinking underwater and can't reach the surface. All I know is that I can't breathe and everyone can see me and there's nowhere to hide from what I am, where I came from, what happened to me.
I slump forward with my arms wrapped tight around myself, eyes squeezed shut, trying to hold the pieces together and just survive this.
Thenhisvoice cuts through everything.
"Get the fuck away from her!"
Nick. My body recognizes him before my mind catches up, and the relief that crashes through me is so overwhelming my knees would buckle if I were standing.
The noise shifts as photographers argue back, but Nick’s deep voice drowns them all out as he shoves his way to my door.
"I said move!"
I startle at the electronic chirp of my locks releasing. He has a key fob for my car.
The door opens and air rushes in. Then his dark, spicy scent reaches me, and it's so warm and familiar my chest loosens just fractionally.
Nick crouches beside the open door with one hand braced on the frame and the other reaching for me. The harsh fluorescent light cuts sharp angles across his face. His jaw is clenched so tight the tendon jumps, his eyes blazing with something that would terrify me if I didn't know it was all in defense of me, never at me.
But when his gaze finds mine, something in his expression shifts. The lines around his eyes soften. His mouth loses that brutal edge.
"I've got you." His voice drops low, the fury banking down to something tender meant only for me. "Come on, baby."
His hand closes around mine. Warm and steady, he pulls gently while his other arm slides around my shoulders. My legs wobble just a bit, so the second I'm upright he pulls me against his side, his body becoming a wall between me and every camera still pointed our direction.
I bury my face against his chest and just breathe him in. His heartbeat pounds strong and steady under my ear, the rhythm I've fallen asleep to so many times I could find it in the dark. My body knows how to take comfort from it even when my panic is climbing and my mind is still spinning.
He starts walking with me. I focus on keeping my feet under me, letting him take most of my weight because after everything we've been through I know he can hold me up. The photographers are still shouting, but all I can really process is Nick's arm around me and the solid warmth of his body anchoring me to something real.
"Back up. All of you. Now."
His voice has gone quiet, which is somehow worse than the shouting. The kind of quiet that precedes devastation. I feel the shift in the air as people respond to it.
One photographer doesn't move fast enough. A microphone is thrust toward my face, too close, and Nick's free hand shoots out. The shove sends the man stumbling backward hard enough he nearly falls.
"Touch her again and I'll break your fucking hand."
He means it. Every word. And everyone here knows it.
The others step back, creating space, and we keep moving toward the elevator. From behind us, Gabriel Noble's voice cutsthrough the chaos, joined by other men as his team forms a barrier and begins helping drive back the shouting throng.
I don't turn to look. I just keep walking with Nick, one foot in front of the other, my face pressed against the warmth of his chest.
The elevator doors open and he walks me inside. They close behind us, sealing out the noise, and the silence is so sudden it rings in my ears.
I exhale then, a shaky, uneven sound. But my body doesn't unknot. My hands are still trembling against his back. Nick doesn't let go as the lift ascends. One hand cradles the back of my head, fingers threaded through my hair. The other bands around my waist, holding me close enough that I can feel each heavy thud of his heart.
"You're safe now, angel. I've got you." He presses a kiss to the top of my head, his lips warm through my hair. "I'm sorry I wasn't here sooner."
The panic is receding in slow stages as the elevator carries us toward the penthouse floor. First the spinning stops. Then my legs feel like they might hold me. But my hands won't stop shaking, and there's still a tight ball lodged beneath my sternum.
"I'm okay," I manage.
Nick doesn’t say anything, just holds me closer.
