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I look over at her calmly. She has clenched and unclenched her fist ten times in a manner of minutes since I’ve been here. But I can’t very well force her to tell me what’s wrong.
“It’s beautiful,” I say softly.
“It’s damaged,” she replies, her voice is barely a whisper. “Just like me.”
My eyes meet hers sharply.
“You’re not damaged,” I say with conviction.
Daniella smirks, crossing her arms over her chest. “And how would you know that? At the slightest sign of intimacy or something real between us, you run. You hide.”
I rub my bottom lip, looking away from her piercing blue eyes. “We’re not doing this today.”
“No, we’re not,” she agrees, leaning back into the couch and closing her eyes. “I’m not mentally capable enough to verbally spar with you right now, Chris.”
Something slashes at my chest at her words, my worry increasing.
“What do you want me to do?” I ask.
Her eyes open slightly as she looks at me. “Stay.”
That’s easy enough. I nod once and she closes her eyes again. The rain is still pouring outside. It’s loud and I’m acutely aware of it. So is Daniella. Every flash of lightning at the window, every time thunder booms, her eyelashes shake, and something vulnerable crosses on her face. Her eyes are still shut tight but I know she can feel everything.
I get to my feet and head over to the floor-to-ceiling window, the only one in the room. I close it and draw the blinds. I don’t care if she wants them open, it’s clearly bothering her. By the time I return to her, her eyes are open again.
“Why did you do that?” she asks.
“You don’t like the rain.” It’s a mere observation, but the way her eyes narrow, one would think I threatened her or something.
“It’s rain, Christian. It’s fine.” she scoffs.
“Don’t lie to me, Evans.”
She must hear in my voice that I’m not kidding because she sits upright, looking at the painting in the middle of the room with her jaw locked tight. Her next words make me tense.
“I had a panic attack before you walked in,” she says casually.
“What?”
“A panic attack, Chris. It’s a sudden bout of intense fear and anxiety that could cause a person to be unable to breathe, due to a perceived threat that doesn’t even exist.”
“I know what it means,” I snap.
“Of course you do,” she mutters. “Because you know everything.”
“No,” I let out a breath, rubbing the bridge of my nose. “Daniella, just once, I need you to let your guard down and talk to me.”
“I do that all the time! You’re the one incapable of it.”
“Maybe you’re right, but I still want to know what caused you to have a panic attack.”
“That’s need-to-know information, D’Angelo.” Her words are cruel and biting as her eyes find mine. “And you don’t need to know.”
Okay, I deserved that. Completely, one hundred percent.
“What happened?” I ask again, softly this time.
She looks away, her chest heaving out a breath. “I haven’t had one in years. I’m not sure what triggered it.”
