“Well, he is Nash’s father, and in the eyes of the law, that matters. We’ll have to make sure he’s safe for Nash, and lives in a safe environment for him, just like we did with you, but if he does…”
She doesn’t say any more, and she doesn’t have to. If he does, they’ll take Nash away from us. We’ll lose him. “That’ll kill him. He can’t be taken away from Sadie.”
It’ll kill her too.
It’ll kill me.
He’s my brother. I love him. I can’t handle losing him.
“I don’t know that we’ll have much choice. It’s a complicated situation, and—”
“Fuck the situation. What about him? What about what Nash wants? What about what’s best for him? Because it sure as shit isn’t being taken away from his sister, from the life he’sfallen in love with here. He’sthriving, and he’s loved. You can’t just come in and take him away from us. I won’t allow it.”
I don’t care what I have to do, Nash isn’t leaving.
“We’re a family,” I tell her before ending the call. I have no idea if that was the right thing to do. It’s not like me, hanging up on someone that way, not getting all the facts, but it’s not happening. They’re not taking Nash.
Oh God. They want to take Nash.
The room spins again, twisting and turning, my chest tight, so fucking tight that I can’t breathe.
“Professor Valentine, are you okay?” my student asks again as I lean against the wall, slide down it until I’m sitting on the floor.
No. I’m not okay. I’m really fucking not.
What if I can’t stop them? What if I can’t protect him? I didn’t protect him for the first fifteen years of his life, but I damn sure plan to do it now.
I fumble with my cell, fighting to pull deep breaths into my lungs but not doing a good job of it. My chest hurts, my head too. I haven’t had a panic attack in years, but I remember the feeling, know exactly what’s going on. I press DLS on my phone.
“Hey, are you okay?” Colton answers, just as I hear Ms. Wilson saying, “I think he needs some help,” to someone.
“Nash. They want. To take. Nash.”
“Where are you, baby? I’ll be right there.” He’s in class, or at least he was. What the fuck am I doing? Why am I calling him? Messing with his life this way. I should be able to handle this on my own. “Tell me, James. Now. Be a good boy for me.”
Be a good boy for me.
I need to be his good boy. “Office.”
“Good boy. I’ll be right there. Stay on the phone with me. I’m coming.”
“Okay,” I say, and then wait for the weakness, wait to feel like shit for needing him, for wanting him, but it doesn’t come. It’s okay to need someone, I tell myself. That’s what love is.
“James?” Henry asks, and I realize he’s kneeling in front of me, that my head is between my legs and I’m panting. Other people are in the room too, including the dean, which just makes my head explode into even more chaos.
They want to take Nash.
I’m having a panic attack at work.
I need Colton.
I smell him before I see him—citrus and sunshine.
He kneels on the other side of me, taking my face in his hands and holding it so I have no choice but to look at him. “I’m here. Breathe with me. Come on, you can do it.”
I fight to do as he says, to pull a deep breath into my lungs with him, then let it out slowly the way he does.
“Do we need to call 911?” someone asks.
