Page 69 of The Has-Been

She doesn’t say anything.

And now Aubrey isn’t the only one having a panic attack.

I swallow. My eyes glance at her every second they can spare while I drive.

Her body starts trembling. And I don’t know if it’s the shock or the cold, but I immediately turn on the heated seat and crank the heat as high as it will go.

What the hell was I thinking, turning on the A/C? I’m so ignorant. Why do I always fuck everything up?

Reaching over, I keep a hand on the steering wheel and use my right arm to pull her toward my chest.

The center counsel separates us, but she is violently shaking, and I feel like an ass for freezing her out. I rub her shoulder as I tuck her into my side, pulling my Jeep into her condo’s drive.

“God, Aubs, you’re scaring me.”

At the use of her nickname, she finally shows some emotion and pulls herself away from where I was trying to keep her warm. When I park, I quickly get out and open her door. She doesn’t move.

“Aubrey.”

She undoes her seatbelt. But then she just sits there.

Her tears start falling uncontrollably as she brings her knees to her chest. She chokes on sobs, her face reddening as she cries.

Opening the door as wide as I can, I pick her up in my arms.

She doesn’t fight my hold, and I know that’s not a good sign, no matter how much I might relish her allowing me to be this close again.

But nothing about this is right—nothing about holding her like this feels natural.

My own pulse beats wildly now, my concern for her driving my second dose of adrenaline for the night. But this time, I know I can’t freeze; I have to act.

When I enter the condo, I’m surprised when none of her cousins greet us at the door. I wish someone were home, so maybe they might understand what’s happening—why she had a panic attack at the hospital—what might have triggered it.

I climb up the stars as Aubrey tucks her head to my chest, her cries still shaking her whole body.

When I get to her room, I lay her on the bed and stroke her hair from her face.

“I’ll be right back,” I whisper as I leave her to make my way into the bathroom.

Turning the knob all the way to the red, I draw a bath for her, knowing she needs to be warmed up. She was still shaking in my arms when I held her. But considering I practically froze her out in the Jeep, my dumb ass thinking it might snap her out of it, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that she’s so cold.

When I go back to her, she’s breathing better, her face red from tears, but she seems less lost in her thoughts, her eyes tracking me as I move around the room.

I pick her back up, but she still doesn’t protest.

And for once, I wish she would. Just so I know she’s alright.

Sitting her at the bathtub’s edge, I easily pull her hair from its ponytail and quickly tie it into a knot at the top of her head, knowing how mad she gets when her hair gets wet when it’s not hair wash day.

She watches me, her eyes just flickering over my features, like she’s committing me to memory.

Like I might leave her.

Like I might leave her, again—my brain corrects.

Something in me breaks.

“Aubs, I won’t leave you. I promise.”