Page 7 of Icebound

He deserves soft words, not sharp ones.

His firm hand squeezes my shoulder. I think he means for it to be comforting, but I flinch.

He instantly pulls back. “Hey, I know it’s scary, but we’re all going to be fine. It doesn’t look like they hit anyone, either. We’re good.”

My chest rises in short, shallow breaths as I try to keep my hands from shaking. “Okay, yeah. Thanks. Sorry for snapping and punching the brake too hard.”

“It’s all good. You can snap if you need to, just don’t break on me.”

I get a lingering trace of his aftershave when he speaks. The aroma wafts through the car, and my eyes close involuntarily. It smells like the crackling fire at the tiny cabin my parents used to take us to in the Blue Ridge Mountains. Each inhalation is like hugging an old friend, but it does nothing to stop the onslaught of memories.

Beeping monitors. Doctors. Hospitals.

The images flicker like ghosts haunting my mind.

My heartbeat grows urgent, like my chest is a prison, and it’s demanding to be heard. Chills roll over my clammy skin while my thoughts spin in a dizzying storm, each one slipping through my grasp before I can make sense of it. I dart my eyes to the ridiculously attractive, but unfamiliar face before me.

The plumber’s gaze is calmer than the Caribbean, but his presence is like a space heater in an already stifling room. The man’s massive. He’s too much to handle right now.

I subtly pull back, not wanting some stranger to bear witness to my vulnerability. I’ve lived with anxiety long enough that panic attacks are more frequent than my period, and it’s easier to fall apart when no one’s watching.

“Hey, you alright, Nina?” His deep voice reverberates through my mind.

“I’m great,” I say, a little too brightly since I’m used to hiding beneath faux grins.

I can’t for the life of me remember his name, and now I feel guilty because he knows mine. Ronald, maybe? “You can go check on the other car. I’m fine. I’ll be right out.”

His dark brow furrows. “You sure you’re alright? I don’t feel good about leaving you alone.”

I force a smile, even though it feels like I’m running a marathon underwater. “Yes, I’m fine, really. You can go. I’m good. Great.”

His gaze scorches my cheek, but I focus on the flickering streetlights. On. Off. On. Off. Life would be so much easier if I could dim my emotions with a simple flip. I’d keep my anxiety turned off and my sarcastic quips turned on.

He gives my shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Sure, but you let me know if you need me. I’ll be close. Let me check the other car.”

My lips feel like they’re stitched together, so I dip my head in a silent nod. His hand twitches up, but after a second, he clenches his fist and climbs out of my sister’s Audi.

Every time I breathe, the seat belt pulls against my nipple piercing. That was a godawful decision, but I can’t regret it when it was the last time I laughed with my sister. If we don’t die tonight, she’s going to murder me for crashing her car.

Now, that would make a good story—Older Sister Bludgeons Rival Sibling with Curling Iron after Months of Feuding.

As he walks away, my head thumps back against the seat. The air feels lighter now that he’s gone, but black spots still flirt with the edges of my vision.

I suck in a long breath.

In for four.

Hold, Nina.

Out for four.

Gritting my teeth, I zone in on the mouse, scurrying on a telephone line. Wait, is that a mouse or a rat? Please be a mouse. Breathe. The crowd of pedestrians gathering around the plumber. Breathe. The smoke spiraling up to the twinkling stars. Breathe. A dog peeing on a fire hydrant.

“Breathe, Nina,” I say to myself. “You aren’t swimming in shark-infested waters. You aren’t walking into a burning building to save a baby. It’s just the adrenaline rush that makes your body feel like this. You’re safe. Thanks to Sexy Plumber, you’re okay.”

I continue with my box breathing techniques, all while resenting the anxious monster in my chest, lurking, waiting in the dark.

Always waiting.