Page 20 of Chasing After You
I couldn’t even look at the letter anymore. Just knowing it was there—from him—was enough to make me dizzy.
Kellie stepped around the counter and gently pried my hand off. “Josh. Breathe.”
I shook my head, chest rising in shallow, fast bursts. “I-I can’t,” I rasped, tears coming to my eyes.
Her hands landed on my shoulders, steady and grounding. “Okay. Okay, hey, it’s okay. Sit down. Come on.”
She guided me to one of the cafe stools on the other side of the counter and crouched in front of me. “I think you’re having an anxiety attack. It’s all right. Just do what I say, okay?” Shereached for my hand and gently tapped my fingers. “Five things you can see, Josh.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, but her voice was firm, making me want to do as she said.
“The… espresso machine. The clock. Your earrings. The syrup bottles. The…” My gaze drifted toward the folded-up paper again. “The letter.”
She nodded and patted my hand. “Good. Now, four things you can feel.”
I forced out a ragged breath. “The stool under me. Your hand. My…my shirt sticking to my back. My heart pounding in my throat.”
“Three things you can hear,” she instructed.
“The fridge humming. The music. Your voice.”
She smiled. “Two things you can smell.”
“Coffee,” I said instantly. “Vanilla from the muffins.”
“One thing you can taste.”
I swallowed. “Anxiety,” I said, managing a pathetic laugh.
Kellie gave me a look. “Smartass. But you’re breathing better now. You did good.” She stood and smoothed her apron. “You’re not working today.”
“Kellie—”
“I’m serious. Go home, Josh. Or go walk it off. Or sit somewhere and cry, I don’t care. But you’re not staying here and having another breakdown. You made me the manager for a reason, remember. I can handle all this.”
I nodded slowly, feeling numb and exhausted. My hand hovered over the cause of my anxiety before I finally picked it up with trembling fingers. It felt heavier than paper should.
“I’ve got things covered here, I promise,” she said as I stood on unsteady legs. “And Josh?”
I looked back at her.
“Don’t feel weird about this later, okay? Like I said earlier, I know you. But you don’t need to pretend to be fine and happy all the time. You’re human, you’re allowed to feel things. Anxiety is just anxiety; it’s not something to be ashamed of. I will never see you differently or treat you differently because of it, so don’t get all in your head about it, ‘kay?”
“Yeah,” I breathed.
“And—” she hesitated, “I don’t know what’s in that letter that’s worrying you, but it might be better to rip the band-aid off instead of ignoring it.”
I nodded. “Okay.”
“Call me if you need anything,” she urged.
“Okay. Thank you, Kels.”
I walked to the back, where we had a small table for employee breaks, and grabbed my keys.
I stepped out into the early morning haze, the sky still pale, caught somewhere between blue-grey and gold. My hands shook as I unlocked the car. I got in, shut the door, and let the silence press in around me.
The letter sat on the center console as I worked up the courage to open it. It might as well have been Dorian himself, watching me with those unreadable eyes, waiting for my reaction.
