“It’s not a panic attack.”
Tansy tilted her head back and forth. “Regardless of what we’re calling it, I can help. Are you familiar with box breathing?”
“Yeah,” he groused, “I know aboutbox breathing.”
“Cool. Have you tried it?”
He rolled his eyes.
Tansy drew in a long breath, counting in her head. When he didn’t join her, she arched an admonishing eyebrow and started over. This time he matched her. They each held the air in their lungs until she nodded. His exhale gusted out like he’d been holding it for a minute, not just four seconds. His cheeks flared pink with frustration or embarrassment.
Without a word, she ran through the cycle again, breathing in, holding, and breathing out. He shifted uncomfortably on his feet but gave it another effort, eyes locked intensely on her mouth. After two more rounds, he managed a full breath without gasping. His shoulders visibly relaxed, and the tendons in his wrists went lax in her hands as he released his fists.
“That’s good. You’re good. Now, tell me, what’s the worst thing that could happen?”
He frowned, looking from her mouth down to her neck, to her rain-dotted dress. Something landed, heavy and surprising, in her stomach with that quick sweep.
“During the speech,” she clarified, uncertain what exactly he’d thought she meant.
Jack cleared his throat. “Worst thing? I stand up there like a fucking chump and throw up on that reporter. Or swear in front of a bunch of kids. Lose my job.”
She rolled her eyes. “Okay. I think all that’s pretty unlikely.”
Jack lifted a shoulder.
“What’s the best thing that could happen?” When he scowled, she shook him roughly, knocking him off-balance.
“Jesus,” he huffed. “I…get through it without fucking embarrassing myself.”
“That’s thebestthing that could happen? Come on, Jack.”
“I don’t know. People donate.”
“Even better than that.”
“Fine. Fuck. You’re relentless.”
She beamed at him.
He took a deep breath. “People don’t just buy plants and enjoy the park for one day. They come back. They see this place recover for real. They see past all the commissioner’s surface-level bullshit projects to what we’re really trying to do here. Conservation. Responsible land management. Because what happens here, with the creek in particular, affects the rest of the area. And maybe I get a few of these people to plant more natives in their own gardens.”
Tansy hesitated to point out that he was standing taller now, more at ease. That his eyes were no longer wide and wild but sharp and full of conviction.
“What?” he asked, catching her staring.
“You know how to talk about all this,” she said. “It might be one of theonlythings you talk about so easily, other than how terribly busy you are.”
“Fuck you,” he said with no heat.
“I’m serious, though. You were fine on that tour. That was talking to a group of people, in public.”
“I was just telling them what was right in front of their faces, not asking for their money.”
She ignored his interruption. “On the fly earlier, you taught all those kids about butterfly eggs and pitcher plants and whatever else is in that garden.”
“I was talking toBriar. The other kids just showed up.”
“You lead staff meetings.”