Page 29 of Light in the Dark
We arrive at the Y right then, and I let him focus on getting the huge flatbed positioned where he wants it.
"Grab whatever you need right now and I'll get 'er hooked up," he says.
I shove my clothes into my suitcases, my toiletries, my everyday jewelry, my phone charger, laptop, chargers, and my small white Yeti cooler of perishable items. The cab isn't very big, however, so Felix straps it all down on the flatbed, and then hooks the big chain up to the front of my bus and goes through the process of securing my bus onto the flatbed.
"Alright," he announces, after triple-checking all the chains and straps until he's satisfied. "We're good. Off to see Mr. Nyx."
"So his name is Nicks, like N-I-C-K-S?"
"No," he says, chuckling. "N-Y-X. It's his last name. Cody Nyx. But literally no one but his mother calls him Cody, and only then when she's pissed at him."
"I don't know how to thank you, Felix," I say, my voice soft.
"Nah," he grunts. "All good."
I reach out and put my hand on his. "No, Felix. It's not nothing. Thank you."
He looks at me for a long moment, his gaze serious. "You're welcome."
I leave my hand on his, although I'm not sure why. It just…feels nice, I guess. I haven't had contact like this with another human since Dutchie died. It's innocent. It's not even handholding, it's just…contact. Human touch.
I don't want him to say anything about it. Don't make a big deal. I'm not ready.
He doesn't. He doesn't even look at our hands. But he does flip his hand palm up; for a moment, then, my little hand is nestled in his much larger one. His hand is fascinating—I feel every point of contact. His hand is as rough as sandpaper and thick with strength. He curls his hand around mine, like a nut within a shell. He squeezes ever so gently, and I get an immediate sense of the massive power in his hands. His hand engulfs mine, swallows it.
Instead of instilling a sense of smallness or vulnerability, I feel…a little safer. A little more secure. As if, because he's holding my hand, everything will be okay.
This freaks me the fuck out.
Panic sears through me, a boa constrictor coiling around my chest, preventing me from drawing breath, making my heart pound and my head throb. I fight it tooth and nail, trying desperately to draw a full breath, to slow my ragged, gasping, panting sense of all-pervading guilt and fear.
I have tunnel vision, barely able to see the road ahead of me; a roaring fills my ears as if a 777 is howling five hundred miles per hour past my head.
Can't think. Can't see. Can't breathe. Can't move.
Trapped.
It's wrong—all wrong.
The world halts. I hear a muffled sound—a thunk. Another. A voice, distorted as if we're underwater.
Movement. Sunlight. Warmth.
A face fills my narrowed field of vision—Felix. He's worried, scared, speaking, but all I can hear is the roaring in my ears, the fury of my all-consuming panic.
He crouches in front of me, slips my baby blue Tieks off my feet, sets them aside. Cool green grass tickles my soles. He guides my hands into the grass, cool verdant blades bending, pricking, tickling, fingers digging into the soil, earth caking under my nails.
He tips my head up, chin pointing at the sun—its rays bathe my face in warmth and light. The sky is blue—the color of my Tieks.
His hand splays on my chest above my cleavage, on the V of skin exposed by the neckline of my T-shirt—his hand is warm and callused, hard and heavy.
"…In, Ember. Breathe in." The roaring dulls a touch, so I can sort of make out his words—most of them. "Feel the grass…sky. Feel my hand…"
I squeeze my eyes shut and focus on his words. His voice. His hand pressing against my skin, fingers dimpling flesh over my heartbeat.
"Focus on what's real." He's behind me, now, big, hard, powerful body framing and surrounding me. Arms around my shaking body, sheltering, protecting. Voice a whisper in my ear. “Take a breath, Ember. One big breath. Focus on the grass. Focus on the sky and the sun."
I focus on him. His voice. His arms. His hands.
