Page 21 of Stay
He waves at me. “No, the other part. Just whisper it real slow-like. Maybe lick your lips a bit.” Raising his brows, he waits expectantly.
All right, I can’t help it. Laughter bubbles up from me as I shakemy head. “Come on, let’s go. I’ve got a lot of studying to get through tonight. I can’t stand around all-night gawking at your precious car.”
Before I can grab the handle, Cole is there, popping open the door for me. Just as I slide onto the soft-as-butter leather seat, he reaches across my body to fasten the belt. As our gazes collide, I can almost feel the electricity snap and sizzle between us.
“That’s twice now, Cassidy. You better watch out because I’m on a roll.”
“Twice?” I echo.
With deft fingers, he clicks the belt into place as his attention stays pinned to mine. “That I’ve made you laugh.”
As difficult as it feels, I drag my gaze from his to stare out the windshield before inhaling a gulp of air. Because he’s right.
That’s twice.
Two more than usual.
Dangerous.
Completely dangerous.
6
CASSIDY
“Okay, Cassidy, you can go back now. Dr. Thompson is ready to see you.” The receptionist smiles as she shuffles around a few papers on her perfectly tidy desk.
I give her a brief smile in return before walking through the door and into the office of the psychologist I’ve been meeting with. After I’d received my acceptance at Western this summer, I’d realized I would need to continue with my sessions. Dr. Thompson has turned out to be a perfect fit.
Her office is decorated in soothing tans and whites, with splashes of blues and oranges that catch the eye. There’s actually a couch, but there are also comfy chairs. Since I’m a creature of habit, I always gravitate to the same chair. I’m sure that says something about my personality. Dr. Thompson usually sits directly across from me with a notebook close at hand in case she wants to jot down a few notes. In the beginning, I found it disconcerting and wanted to take a quick peek to see what she’d written down. Now it seems normal.
All right…I still want to peek at the notebook.
Once we’re settled, Dr. Thompson starts off our session just like she always does. There’s a measure of comfort in our established routine that calms my frayed nerves.
“Tell me how this week is going for you.” She has kind eyes, and they hold mine as if genuinely interested in my answer.
I inhale a deep breath before quietly pushing out the dreaded words. “I had an anxiety attack last Thursday night.”
I can tell my response catches her off guard by the way her narrow brows draw together before carefully smoothing out. She knows this is the first episode I’ve experienced at school. It’s actually the first one I’ve had in months. Another wave of unease crashes over me. I’m terrified of backsliding.
Terrified of tumbling back down into that yawning pit of despair I’ve only recently crawled out of.
“All right. Tell me exactly what happened, Cassidy.” Her words are calm and soothing. In response, my muscles loosen as I sink into the chair.
If there’s someone who can help me through this, it’s Dr. Thompson.
I blow out a breath and recount everything that occurred Thursday night. I tell her about my interaction with Alex and then Cole.
“Had you been drinking at all? Even a sip?” The question isn’t censorious, merely curious. Like me, she’s trying to get to the bottom of what triggered the attack.
“Nope, just a diet cola.” I haven’t had a sip of alcohol in more than nine months. Not since that night.
She gives me a slight smile before jotting down a few notes. “All right.”
The anxiety of that night threads its way through my body before crashing over me like a massive wave. As much as I don’t want to let it suck me under again, I don’t know how to stop it from happening.
“He grabbed your upper arm from behind and spun you toward him,” she clarifies.
