“Baby.” I tip his chin, waiting for a breath lodged so deep in his chest it looks painful. “Look at me. Tell me five things you see right now.”
But his eyes don’t wander past me. His throat bobs with a swallow so thick I feel it like it’s my own. Like I’m the one on the verge of a panic attack.
“Say it again.”
I retrace my memory, reaching for what he needs, unsure because my head is a mess.
“Baby?”
He shakes his head. “Not that one. It’s not the one I need.”
“Em?”
His chest lifts, bumping mine with his first deep inhale—like my voice reached inside him and forced his lungs to work again.
“Em. Tell me—five things. You can do it.”
“Gold flecks in your eyes. Your necklace with your name. My hoodie on you.”
“Anything outside this car?”
He shakes his head. “Everything I need is right here.”
“Humor me.”
“Blue skies. And this freckle right here.” His thumb presses into the dark mark above my lip.
“Good. Four things you feel.”
“It’s all you. That work, or are you going to be picky?”
The corner of my mouth ticks as I slide my fingers through his hair, knocking his backward baseball cap loose.
“Whatever you need.”
“That feels good. Your fingers on my scalp. Your breath against my neck. The weight of you grounding me. Your hair tickling my face with the breeze.”
“How are you feeling?”
A shrug. “Better.”
“Want to keep going?”
He shakes his head. “Let’s get out and walk. I’m too . . . I need an outlet.”
“Okay,” I say, shifting to let him out, but before I can slip away, he anchors me to him with his hands on my hips.
“Thank you.” His lips land tenderly on my forehead and stay for a heartbeat—one that I savor—letting my eyes drift close. I etch the feeling onto my heart because I don’t know how long it’ll last. There’s so much uncertainty in this thing that we’re doing. Part of me is aching to push for answers, but the other louder half is terrified that if I tell if I can’t imagine how I’ll recover when he moves on with his life, it’ll push him to do it quicker.
When he pulls back I look down at him, giving him the feelings I can safely spare. They’re only a fraction of the way my heart beats for him.
“You’re important to me. I’m glad you’re here and that you allow me to be there for you.”
Stay. Don’t leave. Let me keep being there for you.
“Every instinct I’ve gained tells me not to let you help. Looking past them is hard.”
Tell me it’s worth it.
