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I should walk away. Just let it go. Not let him get underneath my skin. But I’ve never been very good at doing that, so I spin around. I’m already on the bottom step and end up stumbling slightly. I manage to catch myself by putting my hand on the wall. But I also manage to bump the light switch, and the lights go off.
Darkness briefly encompasses the space around me as I fumble to find the light switch in the dark. My heart is racing—I hate the dark. It makes me feel panicky and as if someone is lurking right in front of me. The doctor, maybe. Perhaps Zay didn’t check everywhere. What if that’s the case? What if he’s here? What if he gets me? What if I—
My fingers find the light switch, and I flick it back on, releasing a breath of relief.
“Thank God,” I say then brace myself for Zay to start giving me crap for my near panic attack.
But that never comes, and I discover why when my gaze finds him.
Because Zay is having a panic attack. Like a full-on, curled up in a ball, struggling to breathe evenly, panic attack.
He’s sitting on the floor with his knees to his chest, and he’s breathing ravenously as he rocks slightly from side to side.
I may have issues with Zay, but my heart breaks for him. I’ve been in this place before. It’s part of the reason why I get high.
“Zay.” I start cautiously toward him.
He doesn’t even so much as look at me as I stop in front of him and crouch down.
“Zayden, can you hear me?” I ask softly, keeping an even voice because I know …
I know that when I’ve gotten in this place, all I’ve wished for is for someone to come take my hand, talk to me softly, and tell me everything will be okay. That the crushing panic will pass. That the fear eating away at your brain will get full. That you will get better.
He keeps breathing loudly, his gaze locked on the floor. His head is probably filled with dark thoughts right now. He might even be locked inside a box of terrifying nightmares.
Sucking in an inhale, I gently place my hand on his cheek, hoping I’m not crossing a line and am about to make things worse.
His gaze snaps to me. His eyes are wide, and fear is radiating from the pupils. But he doesn’t pull away, and that’s all that matters at the moment.
“Just breathe through it,” I tell him. “No matter what it is, you can breathe through it, Zay.”
He actually listens, sucking in a breath through his nose then releasing it through his mouth. He does that several times and slowly his breathing starts to settle down. He looks like he’s focusing more, and the tension is gradually unraveling from his body.
“Are you okay?” I ask him once I think he can hear and see past the anxiety.
He bobs his head up and down, his gaze glued to mine. “Y-yes.”
It’s strange to hear. He’s such a cold guy, steady and cold. And yet, deep in the pits of my mind, I swear I’ve been in this place before. A place where I’ve seen him fall into the dark waters of his own fear, and I’ve swam in and brought him back.
“You sure?” I double-check since his voice is still all wobbly.
He nods again and, this time when he speaks, he sounds a bit more like the Zay I know. “I’m fine.”
“Okay.” I withdraw my hand from his cheek and slowly stand up.
His gaze tracks my movements. I want to ask him what he’s thinking, what he was thinking about when he had the panic attack. Instead, I just offer him my hand.
He hesitates then takes it, his eyes remaining on me. I start to pull him up, but it’s fairly clear he’s standing up mostly on his own since I hardly feel any of his weight. I start to pull my hand away, but he tightens his grip. I tense, wondering if he’s going to be an asshole or something.
Then his lips part. “Thanks.”
I have a feeling he’s the sort of guy who rarely saysthanks, if ever.
“You’re welcome.” It’s a bizarre moment.
One that’s shattered when we hear Hunter yell, “Where are you guys?”
Zay jerks back from me like my flesh is made of fire then turns and heads up the stairs. I let out a sigh and follow after him.
