Page 78 of Tripped Up

“You good, man?” my teammate asks.

“I’m fine.”

“Okay,” Henry says agreeably. “But if you’re ever not fine, that’s okay, too. You know?”

A lump lodges in my throat, and swallowing does nothing to clear it. “Yeah. I know.”

Mitchell meets my eyes steadily. “You’ll be okay.”

twenty-seven

Elsy

After Wyatt’s panic attack, I wasn’t sure what to expect. Would he draw into himself, hiding away in shame? Would he try to fuck out the lingering adrenaline?

Instead, he seems content to hold me. He’s not distant, just quiet. For the first time since we started sharing a bed, he hasn’t made any attempt to get me naked. We lie in the bed with his arm around me, my head on his chest, and he plays idly with my ponytail. It’s nice, but I wish I could find a way to comfort him the way he’s done for me. Hopefully, he’ll be able to tell me what triggered him.

When I wake up, he’s gone, the bed beside me cool. A note sits on the kitchen counter—went for a run. At least he’s coming back. Guess he’s retreating, then.

After a quick shower, I’m pulling out ingredients for breakfast when the front door opens. Wyatt is sweaty, shirtless, and disheveled, a takeout bag in his hand.

“Morning,” he says, his voice a little less exuberant than usual as he kisses my cheek. “Sleep well?”

Okay. So we’re ignoring it.

“Yeah. You?”

He sighs. “Not great.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“I had some thoughts.” He waves a hand in the air. “I still need to stew on it a little, but once I’m ready, we’ll talk it out. Does that work?”

Slowly, I nod. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“It came out of nowhere. It’s usually isolated to hockey.” Sighing, he runs a hand through his sweaty hair. “I booked an appointment with my therapist, and I’ll probably have to start carrying my rescue meds with me. It…” He swallows, his eyes meeting mine, the stormy blue conflicted. “It scared me. To lose control like that.”

I wrap my arms around his waist. My heart clenches in my chest and tears sting in my eyes. I wish I could take away his pain, but it doesn’t work that way.

“I’m all sweaty,” he says, keeping me at a distance.

“I don’t care.” Pulling him close, I tighten my grip. “I’m here for you. Whatever you need. I’m glad you’re reaching out to your support network.”

He rubs at his chest, like that will make the pain go away. “I don’t like feeling this way.”

“I don’t blame you. It’s not a good feeling. I’ve been where you are, and you’ve helped me through it. I want to do the same for you.”

“You are.” He presses a soft kiss to my lips. “You really are, and I appreciate you. So much. I don’t have the words.”

I rest my cheek on his sweaty chest, the hair there tickling my skin. The steady thump, thump of his heartbeat soothes my concern. He’s not anxious right now. He’s capable of rational thought.

And when he wasn’t, he sought me out. He tried to handle it on his own, realized he needed help, and did what he needed to do. On top of that, he’s already reached out for additional support.

“I’m so proud of you,” I murmur into his chest, tears stinging my eyes. “You experienced something scary and you’re not letting it drag you down, you’re taking care of yourself.”

He makes a noise of assent. “It’s hard. I couldn’t do it without you.”

“Yes, you can.” Looking up at him, I wait until he meets my eyes, holding his gaze. “You can. You are entirely capable of taking care of yourself. You’ve done it before, and you’ll do it again. It’s hard to recognize that inner strength, but you are strong and capable. I believe in you.”