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I wanted to process it so badly but was unable to because shock held most thought at bay. Instead, I was held hostage by a buzzing nervous sensation, swirling thoughts, and that endless ringing deep in my ears.
It was so bad that not even my favorite ASMR was distracting me. And that realization sent another jolt of panic through me.
What if it stops working? What if my brain built up some sort of tolerance to the sound that always massaged out the worst of the anxiety and kept me from a meltdown?
My feet scuffed on the sidewalk as I stepped out of the precinct, hesitating as I fought the urge to turn and look back for Arsen. What if one night of his whispering was enough to make all the others second best?
I couldn’t allow it. There would be no fixating. No relying. Nothing at all with Arsen.
Baby. That whispered word echoed through my head, drowning out everything else. Prickles of awareness tingled over my scalp, the sensation so pleasant I exhaled.
Princess. Matthew. Baby. How many different names could he call me? How did every single one make my heart bleed?
I told you, didn’t I? Kryptonite. He was my fucking kryptonite.
A body pressed against mine, arms squeezing my waist as the scent of familiar shampoo teased my nose. Reaching up, I caught the dark strands blowing around and smacking me in the face to smooth them back down where they belonged.
“Jess,” I murmured, returning the hug she was fiercely giving.
“Are you okay?” she asked, voice muffled against my chest.
“Could use a shower,” I answered.
“How about a trauma latte?”
I glanced over my sister’s shoulder where Wes stood holding a large paper cup with a black lid. His curly hair was wild with the blowing wind, and the tip of his nose was rosy as though he’d been out here in the early morning air for a while.
Someone shifted behind him, and I realized they were all here. All twelve of my Elite bros and their significant others. With Coach, they made thirteen.
“You’re all here,” I said, drawing back from Jess to take in the large group.
“It has caramel,” Wes said, coming to stand at my side. “I sent Max to get you a fresh one because the first one went cold while we waited.”
I felt my eyes round. “How long have you been here?”
“Before the sun came up,” Wes replied with a shrug.
“Damn swimmer hours,” Max, his boyfriend, complained.
“You’ve been waiting all this time to give me a trauma latte?” I asked, surprised.
“It’s what we do,” Rory said, making Ryan beam as he tucked her into his side and kissed the top of her carroty head.
Lifting his face, he agreed. “We’re Elite.”
Rush groaned. “I guess it was only a matter of time before she started sounding just like you, Walsh.” He shook his head and looked at Rory. “He’s corrupted you, shrimp.”
Ryan smirked. “You’re here. That mean I corrupted you too?”
Rush made a rude sound. “Don’t flatter yourself. I came around because a little siren lured me in,” he said, tugging Landry, his girlfriend, into his arms to nuzzle her neck.
The sound of a shrill whistle blasted through the early morning. The AirPods did little to block that piercing sound, and I cringed, feeling like my eardrums were being stabbed. Too much. It’s all just too much.
“Did you forget I’m standing here, Rush?”
Rush lifted his face from Landry’s neck. Landry, who was Coach’s daughter. “Oops.”
Coach’s expression darkened, and he lifted the whistle to his lips again. Kruger smacked it from his fingertips, the metal bouncing against Coach’s chest. “Don’t make me regret calling you.”
