She blinked, not fully processing the question. “The stage?” It was more creak than voice.
“Good, good,” he purred, his voice soothing, each word creating more space around her, more fresh air. “What’s one thing you can hear?”
“You. Your voice.”
“That’s right. What’s one thing you can smell?”
“Lemongrass… and cedar.”
He chuckled, and that chuckle washed over her, reached down deep inside her and anchored her to him. “What’s one thing you can feel?”
“Your hand.”
He squeezed her hand again. “Take another breath with me. In through your nose, out through your mouth.”
He demonstrated again before hooking the index finger of his free hand under her chin and lifting her face so her eyes met his. She immediately glanced away, afraid he’d see. Afraid he’d know just by looking at her.
“Stay with me, Min,” he said, his voice even and calm but no less commanding for the gentleness he infused it with. She met his eyes and he smiled, a broad bright grin, though his eyes were still wide and tinged with concern. “There she is,” he whispered.
“I’m sorry,” she stammered. “I can’t.”
“You can.” Min shook her head again, fighting the tears welling up in her eyes, the exhaustion pulling at her limbs. “Focus on me,” he said again, tilting his head so their eyes met again. “Youcan.It’s just you and me, Min. Just you and me.”
She nodded, her heart rate slowing and a tingling sensation coursing over her, emanating from the place where Dr. Jacobs’ hands still touched her skin.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, his thumb sweeping back and forth over her pulse point.
Min shook her head. She couldn’t tell him.It had been hard enough to tell Jeff, to explain to her therapist. She was never telling anyone else ever again.
“Let me help you, Min,” he said softly. “Whatever happened, you can tell me.”
Her eyes scanned the empty church, as if she thought Aidan might pop out from a corner at any moment. Liam cupped her cheek and tilted her face back to his. She huffed out a breath. Why did this man insist on seeing all the broken parts of her?
“I can’t tell you this,” she said.
He huffed out a breath, the concern in his eyes mixing with hurt. It was too much. She couldn’t worry about hurting his feelings when she was barely more than an exposed nerve herself.
“When you’re ready to talk about it, I’m here.” After a pause, quieter, “Is this like last time?”
Last time. She winced. That would have been last December, the only other time she’d had a panic attack on stage. Only that time, Aidan had been there.
“Yes,” she said. Even if Aidan wasn’t there, it felt the same.
“What do you need?” he asked, pressing his lips to her temple. “Contessa, please.”
Another breath in. Another breath out. She closed her eyes, leaning into his touch. “I just need to get through this rehearsal -”
“Fuck the rehearsal,” he growled.
“I can sing. I want to sing.”
The rest of the cast began to trickle back in, but with Liam’s back to the congregation, no one could see how closely he held her. Min scanned the crowd to confirm for herself that Aidan wasn’t there, her chest tightening all over again.
“Look at me,” he said, stroking her cheek. “I’ve got you.”
She nodded. “I know.”
Dr. Jacobs helped her to her feet before backing off the stage, keeping his eyes on hers the whole time. He smiled reassuringly, but she could see something else moving in his eyes and she prayed he hadn’t read it all on her face.
