I was officially annoyed. “Seriously, I’m fine.”
“I’m crashing on the other couch upstairs, right across from the kids. You don’t have to worry about Dylan,” Asher said.
“Thanks.” I rinsed out my mug and set it in the sink. I hugged my mom, took the baby monitor from her, and headed out of the kitchen. “Good night. Thanks for watching the kids,” I called over my shoulder as I went upstairs.
I showered, went to bed, and fell into a restless sleep. I woke up to the sound of Calla crying in the monitor. Disoriented,I looked around the room, trying to figure out where I was.Home,I remembered as I got up. I dragged myself into the nursery and saw Mom had beat me there. She had just picked Calla up. She jumped when she turned around and saw me in the doorway.
“Hey, honey. I heard her wake up. You can go back to sleep if you like,” she offered as she cuddled Calla.
I shook my head. “I need some water. And I have a headache. Do you have any Advil?” My head was pounding almost as hard as my heart was.
“In the kitchen.” She cradled my cheek with her palm, then felt my forehead with the back of her hand like she used to do when I was a kid. “Come on, I’ll get you both fixed up.” I nodded and followed her to the kitchen. Bypassing the island, I decided to sit at the small table by the window. I watched in a daze as she meandered around the kitchen, warming a bottle of pumped milk for Calla and filling a glass with water for me.
I looked out the bay window behind me. It was so dark tonight. Anything could be happening right outside the window, and I wouldn’t be able to see it. I turned around to refocus on Mom and Calla. But I could still feel the dark looming behind me. I was too close to it. I got up quickly, knocking over the chair behind me. “Oh, sorry,” I mumbled as I bent to pick it up. My head spun as I stood, my headache making it pound from the quick change in direction.
“It’s fine, honey. Just sit down.” Mom’s voice was soothing, but came at me like I was underwater.
I didn’t answer as I stumbled clumsily back into my chair. My heart was pounding too hard to hear anything else. The rapid beat filled my head and echoed in my ears. I tried taking a deep breath, but it didn’t help. My chest expanded and contracted, but no air went in or out. I started to pant. The shallow breaths made me feel light-headed.
What is wrong with me?
Every sound in the house rang in my ears. I jumped out ofmy chair, knocking it over again as I heard someone at the front door. I ran into the living room to stop them from hurting Mom and Calla. I stopped fast, bumping into the couch when I saw it was just my dad coming home from work.
My heart thumped like a bass drum in my chest. Every beat jolted my body like a shock. My chest felt tight, constricted, crushed like an elephant was standing on it. I pressed my hands to my sternum, trying to slow it down, to ease the pressure.
Was my heart breaking?
My head spun. I could see my mom talking to me, see her mouth moving, but all I could hear was my heartbeat and all I could feel was the dark outside, getting in. I couldn’t let it get in. I turned and ran back into the kitchen. I had to close the curtains. I had to keep the dark out. I ran faster when I heard someone running behind me.
My mom shouted, “Ben! Help her, Ben!”
I ran through the archway that led into the kitchen and crashed into someone, falling backward and landing on my ass. I got to my knees and started crawling toward the window. I tried to scream when hands gripped my upper arms and lifted me up, but no sound came out. I tried again. All I could hear was gasping. The hands at my arms turned me around, and I saw my dad in front of me.
Oh, thank God.
“I’m having a heart attack.” I managed to tell him. “Am I going to die?” I felt hot tears leak out of my eyes, and I brushed them away.
“Honey, you’re only thirty years old. This is no heart attack. But I’m pretty sure you’re having a panic attack.” Dad’s hand was at my wrist. “Your heartbeat is fast but you’re not going to die.” He picked me up and carried me to the couch in the living room. He sat down with me sideways across his lap, like he’d done when I was a little girl.
“Dahlia, call an ambulance. Better to be safe,” he said.
“I already did. They’re on the way. It’s okay, honey. The paramedics will be here in two minutes.”
Calla started to cry. I tried to get up, but Dad held me firmly in his arms.
“Stay still, sweetheart. Rest.” I struggled against his hold. I had to get to my baby.
“Calla. She needs me,” I argued.
“Your mama has the baby. She’s okay, she’s okay, everything’s going to be okay. I’ve got you, and you’re safe. I won’t let anything happen to my girls.” he stroked my hair as he crooned and pressed my cheek back into his chest.
“Calla is fine, honey. She just needs her bottle. See?” Mom rushed back through the archway that divided the family room and kitchen and sat down on the chair across from the couch.
I could see that Calla was fine and slurping away at her bottle. I nodded and relaxed back into Dad’s arms.
“Have I lost my mind?” I whispered.
“No, darlin’, you’ve just had one hell of a day. In fact, you’ve had one hell of a last two years.” He rocked me gently. “And I’m glad that you’re here with me and your mom when it all finally hit you. This was bound to happen.”
