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“Actually, there is something you could do.” She leaned away from the table, tucking the arm attached to her injured shoulder close to her body. If she needed a sudden exit, she didn’t want to risk supporting herself on it. “You could leave. Seriously, you’ve done so much for me today, and I’m sure I’ll be fine till morning. I’m just going to sleep the rest of the night, anyway.”
He stared at her, a small muscle ticking over his temple.
She glanced away and at her soup again. “Thank you, but I need you to go.”
His posture grew straight in her peripheral vision, his enveloping energy scrubbing at her habitual timidness. “That’s not going to happen. Doctor’s orders, remember?”
“It was a suggestion more than an order.” She fidgeted with the tie on her bathrobe, breath hard to come by, maybe because she heard how stupid her excuse sounded. “And I have a right not to take that suggestion.”
“Not on my watch, you don’t.” He leaned closer, not helping her jitters, though a softened edge somehow shone through his tone. “Emilia, please don’t fight me on this.”
The heat from his body crossed the small distance between them, or maybe that bit was just her imagination. Either way, her nails dug into her palms, and she sucked at every proceeding breath.
Being nice had never worked for her, and Blaine here wasn’t listening. Her earlier sense of dizziness stirred once more within her head, this room and this man too much for her.
“Damn it, Blaine, just go home.” She looked down at her lap, her last bit of control imploding. She’d fought tooth and nail for solitude and anonymity. Why did so many who encountered her want to take those things away? “I don’t need you.”
“You don’t need me?” He reached out and caught her uninjured shoulder. “Look at you, you’re shaking and listing to one side. Emilia, slow down and breathe.”
Tension swelled in her head, his words bringing awareness to the prickling on her skin and the overly hot sensation burning her from the inside out. She gasped for a breath, feeling like a trapped bird in a far-too-small cage. Why did he have to be right?
“Emilia”—his fingers pressed into her with a gentle sort of pressure—“take a deep breath down low into your stomach. Go slow.”
She shook her head, her entire body shivering. “I can’t. It’s not helping.”
“Here.” He slid his hand down her arms. “Take your index finger and trace the outline of my hand. Go slow and breathe along with it.”
She pointed her finger and started at the base of his thumb, doing her best to forget this was Blaine she touched, whilst focusing on the task of essentially drawing around each of his fingers.
“Even slower.” He glided her hand, drawing out her movements, her breaths falling into sync. “Has this happened to you before?”
Tears pricked her eyes, but she forced a low breath, not brave enough to look at him directly as she gave a small nod. “A few months now. I was about to get help in LA, but then things changed. No one else knows.”
She took another full breath, even though a buried sob filled the space in her chest. Despite the topic and the swelling sensation, her heart rate came down, the residual adrenaline in her body taking longer to rid her of all jitters.
“Might be something to see Dr. Richards about. It can’t be easy for you settling into a new town and all.”
She gave a shaky laugh, her attention involuntarily reconnecting with his. Something about the “and all” he mentioned, suggested he knew there was more to her general fragility today. “There’s been a few shocks for me here in Harlow, yes.”
A gentle smile took over his face, like he understood her reference to meeting him again after so many years. He closed his hand, capturing hers so their fingers interlaced. Despite the intimate gesture, the open look on his face suggested a show of solidarity more than him wanting to pressure the truth from her. “Would it help if we stopped pretending nothing happened between us?”
An alarming sort of shiver swept over her skin, though ultimately, she relaxed and appreciated his direct approach. “I don’t know, and I’m not sure I want the whole town to know.”
He shook his head. “No, I don’t either.”
A quiet moment passed between them, one that was easy and pleasant. A reminder of why she’d fallen in love with him so long ago. Before all her family’s interference. Before the surprise of running into him in Harlow.
Being around Blaine had always been easy, with his innate ability to just let her be. Something a lot of people had failed to give her, especially in the years following her mother’s death.
For all he’d given her, he hadn’t received much in return.
“Blaine”—she squeezed her fingers around his, absorbing the rare moment of connection with someone she’d once considered a kindred soul—“I’m so sorry. I don’t even know where to start apologizing. Do I go back ten years, or just forget that and start with you having to save me from fainting spells and ladders?”
He laughed, his grin adding an extra glint to his eyes, the skin over his cheekbones crinkling in unison. “I don’t know. The list is so long now we could be here all night. Maybe you could settle on getting rest instead.”
His smile dropped, the corner of his lip trembling just a fraction. She peered down at her lap, nodding to herself. Indirectly or not, she’d hurt him.
“I want you to know I didn’t come to Harlow to torture you with my presence.” She snapped her attention up, wanting to give him something in light of what he’d done for her today. “I can’t change our past, but not a day goes by where I don’t feel guilt over what they did to you. If I could, I’d go back and erase everything.”
