Page 94 of Lovers' Dance: Vol. 2

“It’s ok. It’s ok. I’ll get you there, poppet.” he immediately began to chant in hopes of calming her down. But it wasn’t ok. Bloody hell. How was he going to make this ok?

The screams echoing in my head couldn’t get past the lump in my throat. I was on the fucking floor and Matt kept saying it was ok. I tried to sit up but Stuart held me down. When I began to struggle Matt pushed him back and helped me sit up, still muttering ‘it’s ok,poppet’. It wasn’t ok. Snippets of Jamal’s words replayed themselves in my head. Oh God. Oh God, please no.

Mom…hospital…think it’s a diabetic coma…come home.

It didn’t make sense. Auntie Cleo didn’t have diabetes. Her blood pressure was an issue, but diabetes? Why had no one picked up on that?

Matt was cupping my face between his hands. The sympathy pouring from his eyes…he knew. The air caught in my throat. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t fucking breathe! Matt’s face became alarmed at my harsh intake of breath. He grabbed one of my hands and placed it on his chest.

“Deep breaths, poppet.” He inhaled and exhaled slowly, his chest rising and falling at a slow pace. “Look at me. Deep breaths.”

I couldn’t breathe. My chest was tight, it felt akin to an impending heart attack. As much as I tried to fill my lungs with air, I just couldn’t breathe.

“What’s happening, Matthew?”

“Is she going to pass out?”

“Daddy! She can’t breathe.”

“Do something, Stuart.”

“Someone call an ambulance.”

Matt squeezed my hand against his chest. His attention was solely on me. “Breathe, poppet.”

I couldn’t fucking breathe.

“She’s having a panic attack.” Matt was trying to keep his tone even, like his breathing, but I saw the worry in his eyes. “Slow your breathing, sweetheart. Come on. Feel my chest, breathe with me.”

I tried, really I did. My frantic gasps for air didn’t slow down. There were so many faces above me, around me. God. They were stifling me. Breathing the air I needed. There wasn’t enough air.

Aunt Cleo. My auntie. I needed my auntie. The choker around my neck was living up to its name. With my free hand I viciously clawed at it, feeling no relief when the clasp snapped and the necklace fell into my lap.

“Slow breaths, Madi.” Stuart grabbed my hand, pressing fingers to my wrist as he checked my pulse.

My eyes darted wildly between him and Matt. They were smothering me. Stealing my air. I tried to pull away from Matt and he came closer, pushing me further into panic mode. His eyes werefilled with sorrow. Stuart was too close, they were both too close. I needed to go. I had to go. I needed to be home with my family. Oh God. Auntie Cleo. Please God, don’t take her from me. Not like this. Not when our last words to each other had been hurtful. She was the link, my only living link tothem. Her presence meant they were, they had been, that they lived. If she was gone, I would lose my link.

“Matt.” Stuart called harshly. “Let her go. She’s getting worse. We need to give her some room.”

The moment they released me I scrambled back, gasping for air. I scooted across the marble floor until my back hit the wall and still my lungs burned. Matt got to his feet, slowly he approached to where I sat pressed against the wall clutching my chest.

“Look at me, poppet.” he commanded but stopped when he saw my wild eyes. “Slow breaths. Nice and easy. I’m going to help you stand. Ok? Focus on your breathing.”

I watched him take the few steps that brought his shoes to the edges of my dress. Then he picked me up. He leaned in close and I tossed my head to the side, desperately trying to control the panic raging inside me as I cowered against the wall.

“What is going on here?” someone bellowed.

My gaze darted to the small crowd across the room that was building back up in numbers again. My panic attack seemed to be the show of the night. It was Grumps who’d shouted. It was Grumps who was marching towards us with the rest of Matt’s family in tow. A swarm of the Bradley line about to descend upon me.

I wantedmyfamily, not them.

“She’s having a panic attack, Grumps.” Stuart said.

“Do you bloody job and get these people back into the ballroom.” Adam bristled at the concierge again.

“Slow breaths, poppet.” Matt advised, trying his best to calm me down.

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