Page 3 of Paxton

“Let's breathe together,” I say.

We’ve done this multiple times before.

She nods, her trembling grip on my hands squeezing tight, her rich dark eyes locked onto mine.

I take a deep breath, holding it for four seconds before slowly releasing it, and another wave of relief crashes through me as she mimics me.

We do it again.

And again.

We do it until I've lost count of how many times we’ve inhaled and exhaled together.

My car is blocking out most of the sound, leaving it quiet save for our breathing. And I swear I can sense the moment the attack passes, her muscles relaxing, her trembling all but coming to a stop.

“I'm sorry,” she says again, leaning her head against the headrest now that she's grounded.

“You have to stop saying that,” I say. “There’s nothing to apologize for. You know that. I'm always here for you.”

“I know,” she says. “I just hate that I can't control these reactions.”

“No one can control these things,” I remind her.

Her therapist had told her as much when she’d been going weekly throughout her teens when the panic attacks mountedany time she was in a crowd. She'd come so far since then and had managed to go months at a time without having a panic attack, doing her best to avoid certain situations that would trigger them or work on techniques to help lessen the time if they did happen. No one would ever guess because she’s a full extrovert most of the time, but there’s no avoiding trauma like she experienced.

Of course it happened tonight, under the conditions.

“Are you good if I start driving now?” I ask.

She nods, so I start the car and navigate onto the highway again, heading toward her apartment.

It's all I can do to concentrate on the road and not start bombarding her with questions about what happened that led to him abandoning her at the music festival with no way home. But she looks exhausted and the last thing I want to do is put more stress on her.

I park in her apartment complex a while later, hurrying around to her door before she can open it. She leans against me as we head toward her place, her eyes glaring at the door next to hers before we head in.

I close her door behind us, my brow furrowed at the loud music coming from next door.

“What the hell is that?” I ask.

Monroe starts crying again, and I hurry to wrap my arms around her.

“That's Liam,” she says. “We had an argument last week, and he's been doing this everysinglenight. I haven't been able to sleep. And sometimes his fucking friends will come by and knock on my door at three a.m.”

I grit my teeth, doing my best to hold her gently.

“Tonight was supposed to be a fun way to work things out, but he was getting way too serious. He kept talking about our future together and trying to plan things with me even thoughI kept telling him I’m not a serious relationship person. When I reiterated that tonight, and he ignored it, joking that he would propose to me during one of the songs, I told him that I was done.” She shakes her head against my chest. “And once he realized I was serious, he said a bunch of horrible things and thenleft.”

I smooth my hand up and down her back, trying to be reassuring when all I can think about is the asshole next door.

“And he's been doing this music thing for an entire week? Over an argument?”

She nods. “I haven't been able to sleep, which probably didn't help tonight. Normally I can get through these attacks easier, but tonight, I couldn't get a grip. And now I don't know what I should do,” she continues, looking absolutely frazzled. “My lease is up this week, and I was going to sign a new one to stay here, but now that I know he'll continue living next door and acting like this, I don't know what to do. I haven't been able to go to Blakely or Reese’s because I don't want to bother them while they're enjoying their off-season time with Lawson and Nash. And Hadley just graduated, she doesn’t need me bringing her down. I have no idea what to do.”

I shake my head, adrenaline crackling through my veins as the wheels turn in my head. If Liam left her at the festival tonight and is being an obnoxious asshole on purpose from just an argument, he’ll get worse now that she's officially broken things off with him.

“I swear mercury is in retrograde or something,” she continues, pulling away slightly as she looks up at me. “I don't mean to dump all this bullshit on you. I'm sure you were out with the guys or something?—”

“I wasn't,” I say, cupping her cheeks. “And even if I was, do you think there’s anything on this planet that would’ve stopped me from coming to you?”

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