“Travis?”
The throat that cleared from the hallway was definitely that of a full-grown man.
Gage hated that his chest inflated, hope filling him. He knew the only reason Travis would come to their room would be to hash out whatever was on his mind. And clearly he felt it was important, otherwise he would wait until morning.
He remained silent, waiting to see what Travis would do. After several minutes passed, he sighed, disappointed. He’d hoped that Travis would’ve made the effort, would’ve—
The doorknob turned and Travis appeared, backlit by the butter-yellow glow from the light in the hallway.
Neither of them said a word when Travis stepped into the room, closed the door behind him.
Neither of them said a word when Travis walked toward him only to stop, turn back around.
Gage wasn’t sure he was breathing as he waited, watching Travis as he gripped the doorknob as though leaving the room. Several heartbeats passed and still Travis was there.
“You should’ve told me.”
“Told you what?” Gage asked, playing dumb.
Travis let go of the knob, turned around. “You’ve been talkin’ to Reese.”
“And?”
“You’ve been up to speed on the case. Probably before I was.”
Yes, Gage had gotten some updates. But he didn’t figure it had been relevant to what was going on. Until Brantley and Reese actually found Juliet Prince, it was all moot. Or until the FBI tracked her down, it didn’t matter. Everyone knew she was out there somewhere. He didn’t see the point in discussing it.
“You should’ve told me,” Travis repeated, his voice harsher than before.
“What good would it’ve done?” he countered. “How the fuck would it help? Tell me that, Travis. Tell me how knowin’ what they’re doin’ would help any of us get through another day.”
As he expected, Travis didn’t answer.
And yet, Gage still waited for a response.
Travis had never hyperventilated a day in his life.
Until now.
Until this moment when he was standing in their bedroom, the room they had shared with Kylie for seven amazing years. He couldn’t seem to get enough air in his lungs despite his efforts to do so. The walls felt like they were closing in around him, making his vision go gray at the edges.
“Travis.”
He could hear Gage’s voice, even comprehended the concern in it, but he couldn’t move, couldn’t react, couldn’tanything.
Why had he come in here? Why? What was the purpose of subjecting himself to this?
Hard hands were turning him around, then suddenly cupping his neck, thumbs brushing along his jaw, Gage’s face filling his line of sight.
“Trav, relax,” his husband whispered, his tone so gentle it caused another ache in his chest. “Breathe.”
Travis shook his head. He couldn’t. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t fill his lungs. His airway was getting smaller by the second, his chest constricting.
Those strong hands grew firmer as Gage leaned in. And then Gage’s breath fanned his lips.
“I’m here, Trav. I’m right here. I want you to breathe. In and out. Slow. It’s all right. I swear to you.”
“I … I can’t… Oh, fuck…” He sucked in air, the panic attack beating down on him. He felt his legs weaken. He was going to pass out.
