Paul was determinedto relax tonight.
After his unfortunate conversation with Vanessa, he’d spent an hour hunkered down by his front window, surveilling the trees.Vanessa and her brother left without another word.Then night had fallen, and there was nothing more to see.Paul didn’t know what he’d been looking for, anyway.The Navas posed no threat to him.Vanessa would probably never speak to him again.With any luck, he wouldn’t see her in passing.He needed to keep his distance and stop worrying about things he couldn’t control.
He took a long shower, letting the spray drum against the ache in his shoulder.When that didn’t put a dent in his tension, he stomped into the bedroom and rifled through his medications.He’d promised to try Kyle’s natural remedy.The small package of colorful gummy squares sat in the back of the drawer.There was no time like the present, was there?Paul popped one of the gummies into his mouth before he could overthink it.He paced around the cabin, restless.He felt nothing.An hour passed by without any discernible difference, so he chewed another square.
Grumbling, he sat down on the couch and used his phone to browse for local fishing tips.Little by little, a mild fog settled over him.He kept reading the same thing and forgetting what it said.The fog mutated into a heavier sensation, a smothering blanket rather than a pleasant buzz.His mind drifted, then jerked back to focus, and then drifted again.
It reminded him of dreams of falling, or worse—dreams of dying.
With a grimace, he set his phone aside and glanced around the room.A strange energy pulsed in the air.He didn’t like it.His hands were clammy, his mouth dry.Maybe he needed a cool drink to soothe his nerves.He took cautious steps toward the kitchen, as if the floor might turn into lava on his way there.No demonic creatures awaited inside the fridge.Locating a chilled bottle was easy enough.The bottle opener was in the drawer, as expected.He popped the cap and took a fortifying swig.The familiar taste failed to reassure him.Bubbles fizzed in his throat, which felt unnaturally tight.
He cursed Kyle, and Vanessa Nava, and her cop brother.Then he cursed himself, because he should have known better.He wasn’t in the right mindset to relax.He felt twice as anxious as he’d been before, and he had no control over his racing thoughts.He realized, with some alarm, that his lips had gone numb.He raised his fingertips to touch them.They were still on his face, right where they should be.
Was he allergic to edible THC?Or was he just really high?
Paul made a feeble attempt to get a grip on himself.He focused on breathing, because that seemed basic enough.He needed to calm down.The sound of his heartbeat echoed in his ears, amplified and distorted.He considered venturing outside for a change of scenery, but he didn’t move.He was reluctant to leave the safety of the cabin.Then his shoulder muscle twitched in a sudden, painful spasm.
He inhaled sharply, trying not to panic.His chest tightened like a vice around his heart.He needed air.Outside air.Lurching forward, he pushed through the screen door.He clutched at the front of his T-shirt and gasped for oxygen.
Vanessa Nava appeared in front of him.“Are you okay?”
Paul felt like a teenager coming home after a night of partying.His first instinct was to try to play it off and act cool.He didn’t like admitting to weakness, or asking for help from strangers.Unfortunately, he couldn’t stop hyperventilating, so he choked out an honest response.“No.I’m not.”
Vanessa took the beer bottle out of his hand.He hadn’t realized he was still holding it.She placed a palm on his shoulder and guided him back inside.They walked up the porch steps and through the cabin door together.
“Sit,” she said, pointing to the couch.
Paul sat.
“Are you having chest pain?”
“Yes.”
“Shortness of breath?”
“Yes.”
“How old are you?”
“Thirty-two.”
Her brows knit together with concern.“Have you experienced these symptoms before?”
“Not really.No.”
“I’m an ER nurse,” she said in a calm voice.“I can check your vital signs.”
He wheezed his consent.She plucked a children’s book off his shelf and handed it to her daughter, who’d tagged along behind her.
“Sit over there and read a story to Penelope,” Vanessa said.
The little girl sat in the beanbag chair with her doll.He didn’t think she was old enough to read.She opened the book and started reciting a fairy tale in a tone that reminded Paul of whispered prayers during an exorcism.
His mind flashed back to the bloodstained face of another child, her mouth open in a silent scream.
He closed his eyes to dispel the image.
“Look at me,” Vanessa said to him.“Breathe.”
