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Her sharp gasp is the first sign that something is wrong.
It’s unexpected. Shocked. Fearful.
Still leaning into the backseat, I glance into the rearview mirror to see Thea sitting stock-still, ghostly white, and shaking.
Shit. What happened?
Keeping my voice low and calm, I ask, “Thea? What’s wrong?”
She doesn’t respond, just stares straight ahead, her eyes vacant.
Shit.
I jerk myself out of the car and rush around to the driver’s side door, yanking it open. Then I jab the ignition button, turning the car off. Dropping to my knees beside Thea, I quickly assess her.
Her breathing is rapid and shallow. Tiny whimpers spill from her parted lips.
She clutches the wheel so tightly her knuckles are white. Her entire body is trembling.
Perspiration beads around her hairline, but her skin is icy when I touch her.
“Thea, sweetheart,” I croon as I take her wrist, feeling her pulse accelerating wildly. “Come back to me.”
But her gaze is still frighteningly blank, staring at something only she can see.
Terrible, terrified sounds work their way up her throat. A tear streaks down her cheek.
Shit. I know what this is. Just not what she’s seeing.
“Thea, sweetheart,” I repeat, keeping my voice calm and soothing. “You’re having a flashback. It’s okay. You’re safe.”
It would be easier to stay calm if my heart wasn’t trying to beat its way out of my chest.
As her shaking intensifies, I fight back the desire to haul her in my arms and instead say, “Thea, hun. You’re okay. You’re in the car, I’m here, you’re safe.”
Watching her suffering and not being able to hold her is torture, but I know touching her could make her flashback even worse. All I can do is keep talking to Thea, keep reassuring her.
It feels like an eternity before she blinks, her eyes gradually refocusing. She’s still breathing in shallow gasps, her pulse fluttering at her throat.
“Thea, sweetheart. Can you try to breathe with me?”
She slowly turns to me, confusion washing across her face. “Ben?”
I’m dimly aware of the pavement digging into my knees, my shirt sticking to my back, the rumble of concerned voices nearby. But everything fades in importance except for Thea.
“Yeah, hun. It’s me. Can I take your hand? Will you breathe with me?”
Tears well up in her beautiful blue eyes, and she gives me a tiny nod.
As I guide her through a series of breathing exercises, her gaze never leaves mine. Her fingers wrap around mine, squeezing desperately.
Finally, when her breathing has settled and her pulse is closer to normal, I carefully pull Thea out of the car and into my embrace. As she shudders against me, her face buried in my neck, I press soft kisses into her hair. “It’s okay, hun. You’re fine. You’re safe. It was just a flashback.”
Of what, I don’t know. But I won’t ask. I need to wait for her to tell me.
“Ben,” she whispers, her voice close to breaking. “I remember.”
Fear slices through me. What could she have remembered that would frighten her so badly? I rub her back, keeping my tone gentle. “What, sweetheart?”
