Page 103 of The Pass Protection
Wide, panicked, stricken eyes stare up at me as she follows the sound of my voice. “Bret, I need you to focus on me. Baby, I’m here. You’re safe.”
I rack my brain for all of the information Olivia texted me after she left on how to walk Bret through a panic attack. After she had witnessed her freak out at the football game, Olivia wanted to make sure that I knew all of the tips Bret’s therapist had taught her. We spent an evening on FaceTime together, and she walked me through step-by-step directions on how to ease the situation before it turned catastrophic.
“I know you’re scared right now, but everything will be okay. Just focus on me. Focus on how I’m breathing. Can you try to take slow, deep breaths with me?”
Bret gives a quick, tight nod.
“Good, baby. Ready? Breathe in through your nose…one, two, three, four. Release…one, two, three, four.” We repeated the process four more times to slow down her breathing. Chloe is still in the room, but she’s melted into the background. Everything about this moment feels vulnerable, and I’m sure Bret’s feelings are the same as her insecurities are ripped out of her.
“I need you to tell me five things you see.”
Her eyes bounce back and forth as I see the panic still coursing through her beautiful emerald eyes, ones that are now dull and dim. “Sink, mirror, paper towels, you, beer poster.”
“Great job, Rebel. How about four things you can touch?”
Her cute nose squishes. “Cold sink, soft shirt, silky shorts, and the hair tie on my wrist.”
We continue the motions until she’s listed off three things she can hear, two things she can smell, and one thing she can taste. Slowly, she starts to come down from the panic attack. Her body sags with exhaustion, but I refuse to let her fall in this bathroom. Reaching behind her back, I scoop her in my arms and adjust my hand behind her knees until she’s secure. Bret goes limp in my arms as she tucks her head against my shoulder.
“Is she okay?” Chloe’s soft voice whispers from behind us.
With a tight-lipped smile, I offer a small shrug. “She will be.”
“You really love her, it’s clear as day.”
“I really do.”
“Keep her safe, Crew.” I nod as I push my way through the doors.
Grant, Brynn, and JP are waiting in the hallway opening to the dance floor.
“She okay?” Brynn’s concern is evident in her voice.
“She will be. I’m taking her home.”
“Like hell you are.” Grant steps in front of me, but JP steps between us this time.
“You two can hash this shit out tomorrow. Let him take her home. We’ve got her, Grant.”
Anger morphs his features and seeps into his green eyes, which resemble Bret’s flare. He’s pissed, and if it were up to him, the clenched fist he has at his hip would be meeting my face.
“Take me home,” her tiny voice interrupts the standoff. Brushing past Grant, I carry Bret across the dance floor toward the exit. Walking past the guys who stare at me as if I’ve grown two heads, I nod goodbye as I exit the building. JP and Harris are hot on my heels, with Bret’s keys and her wallet attached.
“I’ve got her Jeep,” Harris shouts as he moves toward where I’m parked.
Digging the keys from my pocket, I toss them to JP. “You good to drive us?”
“I’ll be fine.” Climbing into the truck’s back seat, I situate Bret on my lap. Her death grip around my neck hasn’t softened one bit. The five-minute drive home feels like forever as I whisper consoling words and reminders that she’s safe as I pepper her head with kisses.
Tomorrow I’ll figure out what the fuck caused the panic attack. I’m tucking my girl into my bed and wrapping my arms around her tonight. I’ll be the shield to protect her from the nightmares while reality waits.
With every nightmare, every startle, and every gasp for air, I’m there for her all night long, calming her down and consoling her. Sleep never consumes me. Each time I start to drift off to sleep, images of her standing in that bathroom flood my vision.
Her distress was palpable. I could feel it as soon as I stepped foot inside the tiny two-stalled room. It was heartbreaking to witness, a stark and painful reminder of how fragile life can be. The light dimmed from her eyes, and my heart shattered to see her in pain.
The flickering of my eyelids pulls me from the few hours of sleep I managed to get last night. Attempting to roll, my body is met with the resistance of a heavy arm draped across my middle. Snapping my eyes to the arm, I feel my heart tick in panic as familiar blond hair and a large hand greet me.
Crew nestles his face in my hair, free from my hair tie. Warm lips find the spot where my neck and shoulder meet as I melt into his front. My head pounds as my stomach rolls. I feel like I’m hungover, and while I may be, I know the alcohol isn’t the cause. Last night’s panic attack was the scariest one thus far. I thought I was going to die from a heart attack right there in a college campus bar.
