Page 75 of Defying Ella
Despite my misgivings, I didn’t hesitate to answer. Something wasn’t right. He wouldn’t ring me, not that late.
“Hello?”
“Ella,” Jared gasped.
I straightened in my chair, alarmed by the breathless thread of his voice.
“Are you okay?”
“I don’t know. I —” A sudden rush of noise, like a busy bar, rushed in and cut off just as fast. “I think… I’m having… a panic… attack.”
“Try to take a deep breath, Jared.” I shut my laptop lid while I strained to hear him above the low-grade thump of music in the background. “Where are you?”
“In the Rock… Club.” He didn’t sound any calmer.
“Okay, what happened?”
“People… lots of people.”
“Were you recognised?”
“Yes,” he gasped.
He must have gotten mobbed. Even when we were trapped, he didn’t have an attack. He was agitated, yes, but not breathless.
“Are the guys with you?” Fabric rustled against the phone but he didn’t answer. “Jared, are the guys with you?”
“No.”
My knee bounced while it slowly dawned on me. I wouldn’t be going to bed any time soon.
“What do you need, Jared?”
I rose from my seat and started changing out of my comfortable pyjamas before he answered. He didn’t want the guys to know how badly his anxiety was affecting him. If he’d changed his mind, he would have called one of them.
“I need… to get out.”
I shook my head, both annoyed at his stalling — just ask the damn question —and frustrated that I knew I couldn’t say no.
“Okay, do you want me to come to you?”
I pulled up a taxi app while he determined the best way to say yes without saying yes. Even in the midst of a panic attack, the man held on to his ‘no issues here’ image.
“Would that be okay?” he asked, his voice ever so slightly steadier. “After I… I’ll understand if…”
“I’ll be there in twenty minutes.” I cut him off before he gave me an out. “Where exactly are you in the club?”
I dropped the phone on the kitchen counter, straining to hear his response, and swept my messy hair up into ponytail. Then I shoved my feet into a pair of flats before grabbing my handbag and sweeping up my key.
“You still there?” I asked when I picked the phone back up.
“I’m in the men’s bathroom.”
I rushed from the flat, clattering down the stairs to the street while struggling to remember the layout of the Rock Club. I hadn’t been inside the club in years.
“The ones on the first or second floor?”
Another blast of sound shot down the line.
