Page 2 of Paxton

I've known Monroe since we were kids, since our families are close friends.

Which is why I know that being abandoned in public places is ahugetrigger for her. It causes all variations of panic attacks.

Once, when we were ten and on a vacation in Greece, Monroe got separated from us in the market. It’d been packed. One second, she was there, the next she wasn’t. It took us over two hours to find her, and by the time we got to her, she’d been so traumatized by it that it stuck with her forever.

I’ve never let her out of my sight again when we’re out together.

And this asshole justlefther.

“Breathe for me, Monroe,” I say again when I hear her breaths coming in shallow gasps. “Just close your eyes and breathe. Is there a place you can get away from the crowd? A front entrance, a reception desk, anything?”

I'm on the highway now, driving twenty over the speed limit in an attempt to get to her faster.

“There's too many people,” she says, and I can hear her teeth chattering, her body going into full panic mode at being left in a strange, crowded place alone.

I’m going to fucking kill this guy.

“That's okay,” I say, taking the exit that will lead me to her. “I'm two minutes out. You don't have to move. I will find you. I promise.”

“I'm so sorry,” she says again.

My chest cracks at the apology. At the way shealwaysapologizes anytime we've ever been in this situation. Which is a few since that first time.

“You've done nothing wrong,” I say, finding my way onto the patch of land that's working as a parking lot for the festival happening several yards away.

“I did,” she says. “It's my fault. I broke up with him and he left me here. He left me with no way to get out. Get home.”

Rage cuts into me, but I do my best to push that to the side.

I have one focus now and that's getting to her.

“I'm here,” I say, holding the phone to my ear as I pay the person at the gate so I can go through.

The live music is six times louder now that I'm here. The breath stalls in my lungs as I look out at the massive amount of people who are dancing and jumping to the band that's playing on a stage I can barely even see because I'm so far back.

For a fleeting second, I wonder how the fuck I'm going to find her in this packed crowd, but I know there's no other option.

She needs me. I'll find her.

I scan the place for landmarks. “Monroe, can you tell me what's closest to you?” I ask, having to practically shout now to be heard. “I'm seeing a lot of different things, like a few vendor tents, and big colored lights positioned at the edge of the crowd.”

“I'm close to the pink light,” she says.

I immediately move that direction, shoving people out of my way to get through the crowd. I get called a lot of names, but I don't give a fuck.

Relief barrels down my spine when I set eyes on her only a few feet away. I hang up the phone, pocketing it as I push through the last few people in my way.

“Monroe.” My hands immediately slide over her cheeks, and I wipe away the tears rolling down them. “I'm here.”

Her face crumples as she shoves her phone into her pocket before gripping my forearms, crying harder. “I'm so sorry.”

I draw her to me, holding her against my chest for a few seconds before I gently nudge her away again. “I've got you,” I reassure her. “I've got you, okay?”

She nods a little too rapidly, and I can still see the effects of the panic attack clinging to her body. Not only because of thetears or her rushed breaths, but the way her body is trembling like we're in a dead winter, not the beginning of summer.

I hold her close, not letting one inch of her away from me as I navigate our way back through the crowd, shoving people out of my way as needed when they won't move.

It takes me a few minutes to get us clear of the massive array of bodies, and five more minutes to make it to my car. I open the passenger side door and settle Monroe in there before hurrying over to my side and immediately retaking her hands once I'm in.

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