Page 35 of Shattered Hearts

“Laynie, what’s going on?” My fingers dig slightly into her waist. Her shoulders vibrate as she shakes her head. Chipped blue nails wipe her face clean.

My pulse rattles through me. A nauseous feeling stirs in my stomach as I try turning her to face me, but she doesn’t.

“Biscuit…”

“It’s nothing.” She sniffs loudly. “Nothing is wrong. I just—” A hiccup comes from her chest.

I run my tongue across my teeth before slinging an arm around her neck. Pulling her back to my front, I hold her against me tightly, because the last thing I want her to feel right now is alone while she’s breaking. I want to hold her through the tears and wipe them from her freckled skin. It pains me to see her like this, the side of her she hides so well. Most people would never pick her to be like this, but I’ve held her through these attacks many times. The quickness of her chest. Her pulse pounding as she clamps her eyes shut, cutting off the world as she tries regaining her grip on reality. It’s rough to see, but I can only imagine how much worse it must be for her to go through.

Her cries thicken; her head tipped forward a little as I hold her steady. Laynie might not want me to see her falling apart, but dammit, I will never leave her to panic in the bathroom alone.

“You’re okay,” I breathe against her temple. Her body shivers, her hand rising to hold onto my wrist tightly. I swallow, thick and heavy, and for a moment, I think of what it would be like to call Laynie mine. To be able to hold her through everything. I’ve been through a lot with her—from her failing math class, to Golden Hour opening, and the time Freddie cut himself open and was bleeding out on the living room rug when we got home from school.

We’ve been through it all, but to be able to call her mine… I think that’s what I want.

Her head shakes again, and I feel my heart sink in my chest. Laynie croaks out, “B—but w—what if it’s not?”

My brows pinch tightly, gaze fixated on us in the mirror. I squeeze her incredibly tighter, keeping the pieces of her together like a fragile vase. “What?” I breathe out slightly hoarse. “Laynie, you need to tell me what is going on.”

The need to know is like the need for oxygen. How am I meant to fix this if I don’t know what needs repairing?

Her head tips back onto my shoulder, and I see her eyes flutter shut, the heaviness of them overpowering. Her fingers grip my wrist before letting go, releasing me entirely.

“Just—everything,” is all she gets out.

My mouth opens to ask more questions, but Laynie pushes away from me and clings to the bench once again. She must be able to read the confusion and hurt in my features because her face softens, eyes slanting a little as she folds her arms over her chest.

Laynie would rather comfort herself right now.

Something isn’t right.

I inch closer, and her eyebrows pull together as she drags her fingers through her hair, shutting off her emotions like a faucet and exhaling shakily. She has the power to do that. I’ve never known how, but I’ve seen it various times. One second, she’s falling. And the next she’s up and wearing that false smile she thinks I see right through. But I know it’s fake, and it wounds me to see how easily she can slip it on like it’s a mask.

My jaw ticks. “What do you mean by everything? Did something happen? Is it the cafe?”

Laynie’s red eyes find mine, and she sighs. “No, it’s not that. It’s fine, I’m just—” I can hear the slight ache in her tone. “I'm just… overwhelmed.”

My eyes narrow slightly as she chokes on another gulp of air. “Overwhelmed by what, exactly?”

I see the hesitation in her pupils that swell and constrict like moons. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so reluctant to open up. Laynie is normally an open book. In fact, usually it’s hard for me to get a word in.

This isn’t the Laynie I grew up with.

It’s been weeks of her acting this way. A little reserved and tentative around me. Something must have happened to her, but how am I to know when she won’t tell me?

“Biscuit—”

Laynie steps around me, heading towards the bathroom door, going to yank it open. I slam my hand against it, holding it shut. Her sharp eyes meet mine, and I almost feel a shiver run down every vertebrae.

“Why are you running from me?” I grit out, a little too harshly.

Her eyes soften for a brief flicker before narrowing. She mumbles, “You don’t understand.”

My frown deepens. “Then help me understand,” I whisper. My heart tenses, pulse hammering through my ears as Laynie peers up. Gaze stuck on mine, I watch her chest rise and fall quickly, nostrils moving with each breath. There’s something bothering her. Something stuck in her mind that she’s barricaded and won’t—

“I can’t,” Laynie murmurs, almost too soft for me to hear. But I do.

My throat bobs, hand slipping to my side as my chest aches. She’s driving a wedge between us, a knife in my back, and I don’t know how to stop it.