Page 29 of That Last Secret

“Because I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if something happened to you, Emmy. Grab the helmet strapped to the back and get on the bike. I’m taking you home.”

My body lights up from her stare as she looks me up and down, assessing the bike as if she has a choice in the matter right now. There’s no chance in hell that she’s not leaving here on the back of my bike.

“Is it safe?” she asks.

“No,” I shake my head. “But you’re safe with me.”

I don’t know if I believe that myself.

But I’ll do whatever I need to do to keep her safe.

That includes this secret.

But you’resafe with me.

His words reverberate in my mind as I scan the bike, humming under him as he sits perfectly on top of it like a knight in shining armor.

Feeling safe is a new and unfamiliar thing for me. With my family and even my past relationships, I struggled to feel comfortable enough and secure enough to open up about the demons I struggle with.

This feels different.

Without him knowing every detail, hearing it from Logan holds so much power.

It’s embarrassing to stand in the dark outside of the library after I just had a panic attack over the material I was studying. The stress of upcoming exams still weighs heavily on my chest with each breath I take.

And now, the idea of having to sit on the back of his bike to get home might put me back into that same panic.

I’m afraid of letting him see me like this, in this vulnerable state.

I don’t wantanyoneto see me like this.

The last couple of ones I’ve had have been during broad daylight or at home in the comfort of my own space. I did really well managing them during my first semester. Still, this current semester has really taken a toll on me.

I have a major exam coming up next week, and I want to say I feel confident in the material I have worked tirelessly to understand, but nursing school exams are no joke.

The questions are insane and make you second-guess everything you’ve been studying. When you are presented with all the options, every one of them sounds good, but they only want to know which is the most correct.

For example, the patient has no pulse. A. He’s dead. B. He’s deceased. C. He has no heartbeat. D. He’s fine.

Okay, maybe that’s not the best example, but you get the point. The answers make no sense whatsoever.

Although I’ve experienced plenty of panic attacks before, there was something about the one I had tonight that left me on edge. I was clearly not in the comfort of my apartment, and I wasn’t sure how I would make it home in the dark streets without having another one.

I love this city, but it’s scary sometimes.

“Talk to me,” Logan says. “Tell me what you’re thinking, Em.”

His tone is much softer than when I first talked to him on the phone. And hearing him call me anything other than that damn childish nickname has my heart pounding wildly inside my chest.

Looking at Logan, I can tell he’s frustrated, and I want to crawl out of my skin. I hate putting people out of their way because of me. I hate feeling like a burden to someone. Yet here I am, wasting his time.

“I’m sorry, Logan.” My voice trembles as I say the words. “I didn’t mean to ruin your birthday.”

“You didn’t.”

“But—”

“You didn’t,” Logan repeats, his voice a little firmer this time. “I wouldn’t ever lie to you about something like that.”

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