Page 30 of Welcome Home to Ivy Falls

‘Tell me what’s going on?’

‘Panic attack,’ I gasped.

‘Close your eyes. Listen to the sound of my voice.’

I did as he said, the blood in my veins stretched and thrummed like it was desperate to burst from my skin.

‘Focus on the solid weight of the bench beneath you.’

‘Okay,’ I said, clamping my fingers around the curve of wrought-iron.

Like Dr Catherine told me, I tried to imagine my favorite spot. What it looked like. Was I near a lake or a mountain? Did I picture the day or night? The problem was I could never settle on a place or time. Ideas were always changing, shifting in my head like the current in a rapidly moving river.

‘Tell me where you were born,’ he said in a soft voice.

‘Fort Myers, Florida.’

My head throbbed. The scratch in my throat drier than desert sand.

Dammit. Why couldn’t I ever pick a place?

‘How old were you when you moved to Ivy Falls?’

‘I was seven.’

My heart slammed against my breastbone like an animal intent on bursting from its cage.

‘What is the first thing you remember about that time?’

‘The backyard was big. There was all this green grass. My dad hung a tire swing from a thick branch on a magnolia tree.’

‘The first time you used the swing, what color was the sky?’

‘A deep azure blue,’ I said, finally pulling in a solid breath.

‘How did it make you feel?’

‘Happy. Content. Like if I could pump my legs hard enough, I’d be able to touch the clouds.’

The weight of his hands, the press of his skin, grounded me. I let myself ease into the feel of him. How his voice was a cascade of warm water. His breath a gentle brush against my cheek.

I inched open my eyes to find his solid blue gaze. Whenever the attacks happened I tried to find a quiet corner, a place to hide. It was embarrassing that my mind raged so out of control, but there wasn’t a sliver of judgment in his eyes. All I saw was the attention of a man who wanted to ensure I was okay. That I understood he was here to help not hurt me.

‘I’m sor—’

‘Don’t say it,’ he offered quietly. ‘You were caught off guard by what happened to Mrs Vanderpool. Worried about her. Your reaction is normal.’

I took a thick gulp. ‘Wow. That’s new. Most people freak out when this happens to me.’

‘The brain is a complicated organ. How it reacts to stress is different for everyone.’ He pushed up his glasses and gave me a hesitant smile. ‘I didn’t know you worked at the café. If I did, I would have stayed away. You stated your wishes very clearly in the clinic the other day, and I’d never ignore them.’

The sincerity in his voice loosened all the complicated knots in my stomach. He stared at me with such a naked honesty that I had to take a quick gulp. Get my thoughts straight. ‘No. It’s all right. Because of you, Mrs V is going to get checked out. Get the treatment she needs. I’m grateful you were at the café.’

‘I’m glad I was there too.’

That sweet smile returned and I inched away from him, too tempted to brush back the dark hair hanging across his forehead.

‘Can I ask you a question about Mrs Vanderpool? It’ll help calm my racing mind.’