Page 39 of The Design of Goodbye
I took in his slouched posture and bags under his eyes and didn’t believe him. “Are you sure you don’t want me to drive you?”
“I can bike.”
But, after, when I’d given him directions again, and we’d parted ways, I wasn’t sure he could. He fumbled to free his bike from the rack much longer than normal and had barely managed to get on it by the time I drove away.
chapter fifteen
Liam was missing.
I’d been pacing the driveway for almost an hour. It was possible he’d gone home, but for reasons I couldn’t figure out, he seemed determined to keep tutoring me.
I felt responsible.
I’d left him at the library, still a little shaken up, to bike alone to my house. I should’ve insisted on giving him a ride. I was waiting ten more minutes before switching to full-on search mode.
Five minutes later, Liam turned onto my street. I almost burst into tears because the past hour had been filled with dramatic visions of Liam lying passed out on the busy intersection he’d have to cross, his body bloodied and—
“What the hell, Liam?” I exclaimed when he biked up my driveway. “Do you know how worried I’ve been?”
He got off his bike. “Sorry.”
“I thought you’d been hit by a car!”
“Not today,” he said, hanging his helmet on one of his bike handles. “That already happened to me this year. I think I’ve met my quota.”
“What took you so long?”
He grimaced. “I needed a break.”
I wanted to ask him what was going on, but he was pale and unsteady and probably needed to sit down.
“Let’s go inside. I’ll get you some water.” I opened the garage and motioned for him to follow me. “Leave your bike in here so it’s safe.”
Once inside, I got him water, and we sat down at the dining room table before I asked, “What happened at the library?”
His hands trembled as he took a small sip of water. He saw me watching, and redness colored his pale cheeks. He set the glass on the table and placed his hands on his lap. “I’m okay.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.” He was silent, so I added, “Have you thought about what it was like for me to watch you go through that? I thought you were having a heart attack. It scared the shit out of me.”
“I didn’t think about that. No one’s seen me have one before.”
“What are they, exactly?” I scooted closer to him, and our knees almost touched.
He hesitated. “Panic attacks. I think.”
“You think?”
“I read about them online.” He rubbed his palm over the faded knee of his jeans. “I haven’t been officially diagnosed or anything.”
“What do your parents say about it?”
“Nothing,” he replied. “My dad doesn’t know I have them.”
“I think you should tell him. Or your mom.”
“No.” He moved, and his knee touched mine. A tingling sensation traveled down my leg.
“A friend? Sibling? Grandparent? There’s got to be someone that—”
