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I yell, my hands flying to my beating heart.
“Levi, are you okay?” I rush to the living room.
He’s standing there, the pieces of a broken bottle of vodka shattered at his feet, his eyes closed, a hand gripping his chest.
His face is as white as a ghost, and the beads of sweat dotting his forehead are quite telling.
So is his labored breath.
Oh, no.
Since Daddy’s death, I’ve dealt with enough bouts of extreme fear to recognize the signs.
I approach him and place a hand on his arm.
“Levi,” my voice comes out in a near whisper.
He opens his eyes.
“Hey,” I say.
He fixes his aqua blue eyes on me, but it’s as if he doesn’t see me.
“Are you having a panic attack?” I chance.
He offers a small nod.
“Breathe,” I soothe.
He lets out a single breath.
Then another.
And another.
It takes a few long seconds, but eventually, he regulates his breathing.
Without warning, he reaches out for me, stepping on the broken glass.
He cups my face in his hands, boring his eyes into mine.
He doesn’t say a word. He just stares.
“Let’s go sit,” I suggest.
He nods.
I guide him to the couch.
He sits next to me.
He drops his elbows against his knees and stares at the space between his parted legs.
“Talk to me,” I coax.
Giving Linc’s reaction earlier, I have a sneaky feeling I know what this is about, but I’d rather he tells me.
“Fuck,” he says on the heel of a loud exhale. “I suppressed the bad memories as much as I could to make sure you were safe, but it’s like the dam broke open while you were upstairs and it hit me all at once. I could’ve lost you tonight… just like I lost Mom and Annmarie.” His gaze meets mine. “That would’ve been too much to bear.” Pain hums in his voice.
