I swallow hard.
“Get it together, Sutton,” I whisper to my reflection.
My palms are damp. My heart is pounding so hard it feels like the sound is echoing through the quiet bathroom. I want to bite my nails so badly, but I resist the urge.
The presentation starts in five minutes.
Five.
Minutes.
I drag in a deep breath, trying to slow the spiral before it takes over completely. My lungs feel tight, like they’ve forgotten how to expand properly.
Not now. Please not now.
I close my eyes and press my fingertips to the cool marble counter, the smooth surface biting into my skin as I lean forward. The chill of it helps. It’s just enough to ground me for a second, but my chest is already tightening.
The panic is there, hovering on the edge of my mind. Waiting for the smallest crack.
My breathing starts to quicken.
Fuck! No, no, no.
Mom’s voice echoes in my head, sharp and polished.
Stand up straight, Sutton. People are watching.
My throat tightens.
Then I’m thinking of Dad.
Standing in that conference room, my vision tunneling and hands shaking… the silence and confusion on everyone’s faces… my dad stepping forward, taking over while I stood there frozen, humiliated, unable to breathe…
My stomach twists at the memories.
Colson’s smile in the cold, winter moonlight as he holds my hand and we run together in the snow, a part of me knowing we shouldn’t be outside, but we’re having too much fun…
My pulse spikes.
What if I fuck this up? What if I freeze? What if I can’t speak? What if…?
My chest squeezes tighter, air suddenly feeling thin.
No.
No, no, no.
I grip the edge of the counter harder, forcing myself to breathe.
Focus.
My stomach churns as the spiral tightens, panic clawing its way up my throat…until I stop it.
I think of last night with Jayce.
Breathe for me.
I think of the gentle pressure around my wrists. The careful knots. The feel of total security and safety.
