I poke my head into CJ’s office. “I’m heading home,” I whisper.
“Cal, give me a minute,” he says into his headset, then mutes the call.
He crosses the room and stops in front of me, his fingers hooking gently under my chin to lift my face. The gentleness makes my breath catch.
“You’re not going anywhere alone, Eli. Not right now, especially after what’s happened.”
His blue eyes hold that familiar, quiet concern he tries to hide. Up close, he smells clean and grounding.
I nod. “Yeah, okay. I’ll wait at my desk.”
“Twenty minutes. Tops.” He squeezes my shoulder, then returns to the call. I watch his business smile slip back into place as he unmutes and continues.
I sit at my desk, open a game on my phone, and wait.
Ten minutes later, I’m bored. I glance toward his office, but he’s still talking. My chest feels tight as my eyes drift to the street outside. People rush past, cars crawl through traffic, and the waterfront glows under the fading light. The longer CJ talks, the more the quiet presses in around me.
Then I feel it: a hand on my shoulder.
I flinch hard, looking up automatically. The reaction is carved into me by years of bracing for impact.
“Sorry,” I say quietly, clearing my throat and shuffling in my seat. My heart starts pounding in that dark, sickening way I hate.
“It’s okay. I should’ve said something.”
Ringing fills my ears. My vision blurs at the edges as panic crawls up my throat. My muscles lock, and I try to pull air in, but it won’t come.
CJ drops into a crouch beside me. “Baby, hey, hey,” his voice softens. “Look at me, Eli.”
He cups my chin and turns my face toward him. “Breathe with me, Eli.” I watch his chest move and try to replicate it. “Count. One… two… three… four…”
I follow his instructions, feeling his hand over mine as he presses it to his chest. My mind is screaming: no coherent thoughts, just noise and panic. Everything is too much. My fingers curl into his shirt, his voice cutting through the static like a lifeline.
“Baby, I need you to breathe with me, okay?”
I lean into him as we count. As we breathe together, he grounds me. My heartbeat slows beneath his touch, my thoughts quieting as he pulls me back from the runaway freight train of panic.
“CJ,” I whisper.
His thumb brushes my cheek, and the office falls away. This morning flashes through my mind: the door, the look in his eyes, the absolute safety of his hands. I need CJ right now, more than I need words or reassurance.
I close the small space between us and lean into him, meeting his lips in a kiss that’s soft and careful. It feels like oxygen after drowning. His hand slides to the back of my neck, keeping me close, and I cling to him like he’s the only thing keeping me upright. My breathing evens out, my pulse finally remembering it doesn’t have to run.
CJ pulls back first, our foreheads hovering close. “We shouldn’t,” he says, his voice rough.
My stomach drops slightly at that, but I know he’s right. I know neither of us wants to stop, but I nod in agreement. We head for the door together, switching off lights as we go.
* * *
My phone buzzes.
Unknown number.
I frown and open the screen. Cold sweeps through me. My fingers go completely numb around the glass. CJ says something beside me, but I don’t hear it as the blood drains from my face. My hand starts shaking so violently I nearly drop the phone.
“Eli?” CJ steps closer.
I can’t answer, so he takes it from my hands.
