Hunter’s voice is calm, even soft, when he says, “Liv. Let me help you.” His body is big and warm and steady next to mine, and I nearly crumple to the street when he wraps his hand around mine and gently pries the key from my stiff fingers.
“Farmor,” I whisper, or maybe I shriek it, I honestly don’t know. I don’t know how I can contain this much fear. A raging tsunami of regret builds in me; anticipatory pain limns my skin and muscles like ice, cold and sharp. Is she gone? Did I lose her too?
Can’t.
Breathe.
I fought it. I triedso hard—
... But I’m back there—inthatroom—I’m clutching his hand, begging my dad not to go, pleading with God to save him—
“Liv, look at me.” Hunter’s voice is low and insistent, tender but firm. His hands are on my face. His hands—gentle,strong hands—tilt my head up so my eyes meet his. Darkness tunnels the edges of my vision. “Olivia,look at me,” he repeats. “Breathe with me. Breathe in. Yes, like this.”
I’m drowning, but Hunter holds my head above the surface. He inhales, and I copy him. He blows out through his mouth; his minty breath brushes across my icy skin, and I exhale. In and out.
“Breathe with me.”
Inhale ... eyes on his.
Minty breath on my cheeks ... exhale.
My legs are partially numb. My arms ache. My heart surges and surges andsurges.
Gray skin, unseeing eyes, caskets lined with silk and the feel of formaldehyde skin ...
“Stay with me. Olivia,lookat me!” Hunter’s voice is sharper, commanding. I obey, and the ghosts retreat. I stare into his eyes. Green-flecks-and-burnt-autumn-leaves eyes. One hand is still on my face, but the other is wrapped around my body, half propping me up, pulling me against him. The spinning slows. He breathes. I breathe. The numbness is replaced by sharp pins pricking my muscles—oxygen flowing back to deprived tissue.
The panic attack recedes.
“There you are,” Hunter says softly, carefully releasing me, making sure I’m steady on my feet.
I stare at him.
“Proceed to the route,” my GPS says, woken up by my movement.
“I have to go.” I spin away from Hunter, cheeks burning and lungs tight. I search the ground for my fallen keys.
“You’re in no condition to drive,” he says, gentle.
I hate him for being right. “I don’t know if she’s okay or not, so I’mupset—not incapable of driving!” The panic is ebbing away, leaving space for the embarrassment that floods my body with heat.
Hunter reaches around me to slide the key he somehow has into the driver’s-side door. The lock clicks, and he opens the door. But when I try to slide into my driver’s seat, he grasps my arm to stop me.
“Quit manhandling me,” I snap, whirling to face him, chest heaving.
Hunter’s too close. “I’m not manhandling you, Olivia.” The flecks of jade in his eyes glint in the bright sunlight.
His eyes saved me from drowning moments ago, but now I’m mad that they did. I’m mad thatheis the one who reached down and pulled me out.
“Tell me where you’re going.” Hunter looks at me steadily, his expression inscrutable. The directness of his gaze sends a quiver down my spine, straight into the depths of my stomach. “I’ll drive you.”
“No.”
“I’m not really giving you a choice.” His jaw is set. “The last thing anyone needs is foryouto crash on your way to the hospital.”
“I’m fine now. I promise.”
Instead of responding, he merely reaches for my wrist and holds up my hand between us so we can both see how my fingers tremble in the space between our bodies.
