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“Hey, are you okay?” Charles asked, and the fact that he knew made it worse, made my vision blur and my body wobble. The store spun around us, but then Charles’s hand was on mine, and he was leading me, and damned if I wasn’t following. Every part of me wanted to pull away, wanted to get the fuck out of there and never see him again, but something about the connection, about the warmth of his skin and how alive he felt, it tethered me to…well, him.
We left the carts where they were. People were looking at us, probably because Charles was holding my hand, but I knew if I let go, my legs would give out and I wouldn’t make it. It was embarrassing, and Jesus, was I gonna have a heart attack or what? It had never been this bad, like no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t catch my breath, and my chest felt like an elephant was sitting on it.
But then we were outside, and what felt like a second later, I was sitting in the passenger seat of an SUV that wasn’t mine. I didn’t remember getting there. Charles stood in front of me, rubbing my back and saying, “That’s it. Take a deep breath. You got this.”
I focused on his words, on calming myself down. Time passed, but I couldn’t say how much. Eventually, I stopped feeling like I was floating away, which was when a hefty dose of embarrassment kicked in.
“I’m fine,” I said, noticing that Charles had blocked me in between him and the door, making it harder for people to see me. Luckily, he backed away some, which helped even more with the lingering weight on my chest. “Fuck, that was…” I couldn’t put a word to what that was.
“Anxiety? Panic attack?”
I shrugged. “I reckon something like that, but it’s not usually so bad.”
“You haven’t gone to the doctor about it?”
“Don’t really need you to judge me for my choices,” I replied because I could hear it in the tone of his voice that he was. I did enough judging myself.
“I wasn’t… Okay, I was. Sorry.”
“I’m sorry I lost it like that. Nothin’ even happened.”
“Something doesn’t need to happen for your anxiety to hit. There doesn’t have to be a reason for it. Anxiety just is, and it happens.”
“Not in front of people, it doesn’t. Not for me.” I hated that it had been so obvious something was wrong with me.
Charles frowned. The look didn’t seem to fit his mouth. He was too happy and distinguished for that. Guilt bore down on me, crushing me into the ground for putting that expression on his face.
I used to make Nadine feel like that too, when she’d get sad I was alone, or felt bad when we stopped spending time with each other as often once she and Phil settled down and had the kids. I made her feel even worse before she died, and I’d never forgive myself for that.
There were probably times I’d done the same to Sutton—and for sure now that he’d guessed I’d been in love with his mama.
“Thank you for your help. I’m gonna head out.”
I stood. Charles took a small step back but didn’t completely move out of my way. “Let me take you home,” he asked, and I scoffed.
“Don’t need you to drive me home. I can make it there just fine.”
“Maybe I just want to?”
But why would he, after what just happened?
“Nah, I’m good.”
“What about shopping?”
Why are you doing this? Why do you give a shit about me?
“There’s always tomorrow.” I stepped around Charles, then took another and another.
“Brian,” he said, and for a reason I didn’t understand, I stopped. “There’s no shame in letting someone in.” I started moving again, even when he said, “I play piano. I’m gonna get you to play guitar with me.”
Goose bumps shot down my arms, my fingers itching to play, and something that felt like excitement bloomed in my gut.
The second I got into my truck, I lit a cigarette. It was the first one I’d had since I’d left Sutton’s a few days before.
And then…I just sat there. I kept telling myself to put the key in the ignition, to start the vehicle and drive away, but it was as if the connection between my brain and the rest of me was severed, like my body didn’t have to obey what I commanded it to do. It was always like this to a degree after an attack. They took a lot out of me, but this felt less like exhaustion and more like…hell, I didn’t know what.
Charles hadn’t had to help me. He sure as shit could have made a bigger deal of it than what he’d done, but instead he’d just…taken over. He’d gotten me out of there and tried to protect my privacy as best as he could.
