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Isabella’s voice pulls me back from images of crumpled sheets and the curve of her hip in the moonlight. Her gaze is soft, her skin golden in the light from the bonfire. I take her hand, my thumb tracing the line of her knuckles. I wonder if she feels the energy, the hum of my awareness of her. My world has undergone a seismic shift in the past twenty-four hours.
“Walk with me?” I ask.
She nods, confusion in her eyes, as she allows me to pull her up. We move away from the heat of the fire. The ocean breeze lifts the glorious waves of her hair, which she’s blessedly left down, instead of in its usual tight ponytail.
We walk, the sand damp and hard beneath my feet. The breeze picks up, smelling of brine and kelp. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Isabella shiver. She doesn’t resist when I pull her into my side, wrapping my warmth around her.
Without warning, my lungs feel as if they’re closing up.
“Sebastian? What’s wrong?” Isabella tilts her head to look up at me when I suddenly stop.
I don’t answer. I can’t. I’m trying to catch my breath, but it isn’t working.
“Sebastian?” Her voice is laced with concern. She pulls away from my grasp to face me. “Are you okay?”
“Can’t... can’t catch my… breath,” I gasp. “Something’s... wrong.”
Her eyes go wide, and she puts her hands on either side of my face. “Does your chest hurt? Do you feel sick?”
I can only shake my head.
“I should get Aaron—”
She starts to pull away but I hold tight to her hand. “Stay,” I manage.
Oh, God, what if something really is wrong? Am I having a heart attack? A stroke? Has the stress taken its toll?
She hesitates, the same questions clearly on her mind, as her worried gaze searches my face. “Why don’t you sit down? Maybe that will help.”
I nearly drop onto the sand. Isabella sits beside me, facing me.
“Just breathe, okay?” The breeze and the ocean spray are wonderfully cool on my face. “Just focus on the waves and breathing in and out.”
I nod and do as she says, my body flushing from melting heat to freezing cold and back again. My hands are tingling and numb, my chest so tight I feel like I’m going to run out of oxygen. I focus on her voice, on her hands, on her exaggerated breaths, trying to match my own rhythm to hers.
Slowly, eventually, my chest releases bit by bit. My body temperature settles, and the numbness in my hands recedes to a tingle in my fingertips. In its wake is a hollow feeling of weakness, but I’m grateful just to be able to take a full breath again.
“Shit,” I whisper, letting my head hang.
“Are you okay?” she finally asks. “Do you want me to get Aaron? I won’t let the kids know anything is going on.”
I think about how amazing she is, willing to protect kids who aren’t even hers.
“No.” My voice is rough. “Just give me a minute.”
I flex my hands, willing the lingering numbness away. The Atlantic is an expanse of obsidian aside from where the moonlight catches the waves, turning them into silver-white foam. I look up at the stars, and they remind me of how insignificant I really am. Calmness finally washes over me.
“What happened?” Isabella asks softly. “Do I need to get you to a hospital?”
I shake my head, brushing the sand off my hands before raking them through my hair. “Not sure.”
Isabella frowns, her eyes dark with concern. “Have you ever had a panic attack?”
I imagine my expression must be something between disbelief and utter ridiculousness. But she doesn’t flinch.
“I’m being serious, Sebastian. I think you may have just had one. You should probably get checked out just in case, given the stress you’ve been under.”
“I don’t have panic attacks,” I tell her gruffly. “I don’t panic.”
