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I head into the main club, weaving my way through throngs of bodies, pushing my way past when no one makes room. It must be over capacity because it’s rammed full of perspiring, gyrating bodies, of couples making out against walls. Laughter—shrill and piercing—comes from my left, and I startle. And then a hand grips my forearm, jerking me to a stop.
“Where are you going? Stay and chat, yeah?” A man in his thirties with a shaved head and a blue shirt grins at me. “I’m gonna need a ladder—you’re so tall!”
I pull myself free from his firm, tightening grip, only for him to catch me up again as I attempt to flee. “Hey, don’t go.”
There’s no space here to move, to escape. No room to breathe. Laughing voices and grinning faces seem to project onto me from all sides. Across the tops of heads, I search for familiar tall bodies, my lungs tight and my voice strangled.
I try and shake myself loose. Try and yell at the guy to release me, but I’m drowned out by the music. My voice is too weak, my fears crowding me. I’m pulled and jostled. An elbow jabs me in the upper arm as I force myself free, bumping into a small circle of men who surround me. “Woah there, wild cat,” Blue Shirt says from behind me. “I don’t mean no harm.”
Again, I try and push through, but it’s no use. My mind battles itself, fear rising. Knowing a panic attack is imminent makes me worse. I struggle to breathe, doubling over as I rake in as much oxygen as I can.
Around me, there’s a whirl of movement. The press of male bodies eases. Blue Shirt is sprawled on the floor, Max pummelling his fist into his face over and over before standing up to glare at anyone interested in taking him on.
But Ben is there, protecting his back and shoving anyone trying to intervene as more space opens up around me.
“Back the fuck up,” Max growls as he binds himself to my side. An arm goes around my waist to support me and I lean into his strength, his muscles vibrating.
Blue Shirt stands. His nose is busted and his lip is split. He and his friends take one look at Max before they retreat. And then the wide, burly security men arrive, dragging Blue Shirt away. Before they have a chance to escort us out too, Max reaches for my hand.
My head hurts, my wrist too, but I’m not going to let it ruin the evening. Ican’tlet it ruin the evening. This isn’t about me and my fears. Tonight is meant to be about Josie. It’s about the four of us.
“Don’t say anything,” I plead as we pass through the exterior door. “I don’t want them to worry.”
“Well, I’m fucking worried enough for all of us,” Max grits out, no longer bulldozing his way through the club but coming to an abrupt stop. “Do men touch you like that all the time?”
“No.”
His eyes search mine, looking for the lie. His hands rake through his hair as he mutters a low, “Jesus.From now on, I’m not letting you leave my sight. I should never have let you go.”
Upset at myself, at my body’s reaction, it’s hard to look him in the eye.
His hand comes to my jaw, holding it gently. “Hey, I’m sorry. How are you now? Better?”
I nod, taking a deep breath. My heart rate’s plateauing. My brain feels less foggy.
“Do you get panic attacks often?”
“I did when I was younger, after Mum left us. And they came back again recently. This is the first one I’ve had since starting running again.”
Pulling me against him, he wraps his arms around me and presses a kiss to my temple. “I’ve got you. Tonight has been a big step, and you’re doing great. Don’t forget how far you’ve come.”
“Thanks,” I murmur, soaking up his heat, absorbing his power.
Underneath a glowing patio heater, my girlfriends stand next to a table loaded with drinks. We gather round as Tabi hands out drinks, none the wiser about the chasm in this evening’s fun.
Max’s knuckles are red and cracked when I look across at him. “Shit, are you hurt?” I ask guiltily.
He dismisses my concern with a shake of his head.
“Sorry. And . . . thank you, for saving me.”
The look on his face has my heart melting. Only Max gets to save me, and I just confirmed it. But the quiet understanding between us changes into something more intense. “I’ll hurt anyone hurting you.”
His confession sends thrills through my tummy which must mean I’m a bad person.
“I wish I’d got there first,” Ben murmurs. “I feel like a fight tonight. And you,” he says, eyeing Max, “need to protect your hands.”
“Why shouldn’t you be hitting anyone?” I ask, wrinkling my nose in confusion as Max rolls his eyes.
