“Cam.”
Sweat collects at my temples. My shirt is too tight at the collar and across my chest. I rake my hands through my hair and tug, my head woozy and my vision blurring around the edges.
“Cameron. Stop.”
Joey steps in front of me, forcing me to halt my movement.She grasps my forearms and pulls. Reluctantly, I release my grip on my hair. Sucking in short breaths, I scan her face, her dark eyes, her sad expression, my heart still racing and my vision still unfocused.
“Take a deep breath.” She clasps my hands between us, her words patient. “You’re spiraling. Deep breaths,” she commands. “Come.” Gently tugging, she ushers me back to the bed. “Lay down. You’re having a panic attack.”
Is that what this is? My mom had panic attacks when I was a kid. When it happened, her eyes would get as big as saucers and she would move her arms about like she was searching for an anchor—something to bring her back to earth.
Here, now, Joey is my anchor. She gently guides me onto my left side, and with one hand still holding mine, she turns off the light.
I squeeze my eyes tight and clutch at the sheets, praying the darkness washes away the image of Hayden and Tyler. Joey curves herself around me like a spoon and hooks one leg over my thighs, securing me in place. She wraps her arm around me and presses her hand against my pounding heart. Her nose nudges the back of my neck as she situates herself on my pillow.
“What are you doing?” I manage through ragged breaths.
“Match your breath to mine, okay? When I breathe in, you breathe in; when I breathe out, you breathe out. Got it? Focus on me. Nothing else.” Her voice is so soothing I already feel myself gliding back to earth.
I nod.
“Inhale,” she begins.
I desperately try to mimic her, but it’s difficult when my heart is beating this fast.
“It’s okay,” she reassures. “You’ll get there. Now exhale.”
I release my tight grip on the sheets.
When Joey inhales again, I feel a tad more tethered to the moment.
I match her breath for breath.
Inhale.Inhale.
Exhale.Exhale.
“Again.”
Inhale.Inhale.
Exhale.Exhale.
She’s a miracle worker. It only takes a handful of breaths for relief to settle in.
She drags her breath out longer this time, challenging me to do the same.
Slowly, my heart rate returns to normal and the fog clouding my brain dissipates. Mostly clearheaded, I focus on my surroundings. On Joey’s warm breath against my neck. On the way her body fits perfectly against mine. She paints circles on my chest, eliciting goose bumps beneath my shirt.
In moments, I’ve lost all sense of time and have given up on matching her breath. And from the sound of her breathing, she has too. In fact, if I’m not mistaken, her breathing has quickened. Or is that my imagination?
She continues tracing circles on my chest, her movements torturously slow. Then she works her way down my torso, only stopping when she reaches the hem of my shirt.
“What are you doing?” I croak.
She doesn’t answer.
“Joey,” I plead.
