Page 83 of The Last De Loughrey Dynasty

“Describe to me three things you can see—the weather, the garden, whatever catches your eye.”

“Grey sky.” I drew my gaze over the high maze hedges that closed onto the garden. “The maze.” My eyes were going too fast for my brain. I was going to be sick.

What the fuck was happening to me?

“What else?” Chadwick asked, gaining my attention.

“A man with a terrible haircut.” The truth blurred out of me before I could just shut my mouth like I always did. But come on, that man wore his hair slicked back like some wannabe mafia leader.

“That’s debatable, but okay. Now tell me three things you can hear.” He wasn’t angry. All he was, was so stupidly calm. Nothing was calm about this situation.

I stared at him for a long moment before I tried to listen past the ringing in my ears. There was the sound of children laughing as their parents and siblings arrived, the sound of the howling wind and cars driving up the gateway. I described the sounds to him, and he listened as if anything I said was the slightest bit interesting.

Chadwick nodded before he sighed sadly. “It’s so sad that the birds have already made their way south. I loved to hear them snicker before my window in the morning. They even inspired me to buy them a tiny house I installed on my windowsill.”

I crooked an eyebrow, confused as to why a teacher was telling me about his weird love for random birds, making his windowsill a home just for them to shit all over it as a thank-you present.

“Why are you telling me this?” I asked and noticed that my voice wasn’t shaking from my tremors any more. While reality began to hit me hard, I felt the weight of what had just happened.

Chadwick stood up, straightening his smart shirt, before he adjusted his jacket that had been pushed up by his trousers on one side. “You had a panic attack. I was trying to get your mind off whatever caused this inner chaos.”

I pushed myself to my feet and frowned, disagreeing with him. “I don’t have panic attacks.”

“There is nothing shameful about life just sometimes being a little too much, Mister Kingstone.”

“Right, because it didn’t happen. I was stressed and angry and—” what was I going to tell him? That mine and the life of the only girl I ever felt something for will end if I seek my own happiness?

Chadwick put his hand on my arm, but I shrugged him off in anger. I didn’t want him to fucking baby me. I didn’t have apanic attack. I’m not an anxious person, nor am I overrun by life. I have everything under control.

“I can see that you’re in anger and denial right now, but if you seek someone to talk to, feel free to contact me. That’s what I’m here for.”

“I don’t need anyone to talk to. This was nothing more than a slip-up, and I don’t want anyone to know about this.”

The last thing I needed right now was some professional trying to help me again.

He nodded. “I respect your decision, but keep my offer in mind.”

I said nothing as I made my way back inside. My legs weren’t shaking any more, but I felt like I had just received the beating of my life, and exhaustion claimed every part of me.

This didn’t happen.

I can’t break on something I have no right to be breaking on.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

DOROTHEE

“What are those trousers?”was the first thing my mother had to say to her daughter after not seeing her for more than three whole months.

Disappointed but not surprised.

“I bought them in a second-hand shop down in Owley. I thrifted a couple more clothes,” I answered her with a sweet smile. As much as I was unhappy to return home, I don't think anything could crush my happiness at the moment.

Calling Archer my friend hadn’t been on my to-do list before leaving for the holidays, but now that I had spoken those words, all I could think about was his smile at the title.

My mother peeled her upper lip back in disgust. “Thrifting is for the poor. Honestly, Dorothee, don’t you feel disgusted knowing your skin touches a fabric that has been worn by God knows who before you?”

I shook my head. “No, because washing machines exist, and I don’t see a problem with recycling old clothes.”

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