“Again,” he ordered, tilting my chin toward him. “Another breath on the count of three, okay?”
I stared at his serious expression, his unwavering gaze, and nodded. He counted. I inhaled. Again and again until the tension began to seep away with every exhale. My heartbeat steadied. I kept my hand curled around Dean’s arm, finding comfort in the solid feel of his muscles beneath his sweatshirt.
He counted. I breathed. Over and over until air filled my chest without hurting, and the sharp pain in my throat dissipated.
When I finally felt more in control, I swiped at my damp forehead and rested my elbows on my knees. My heartbeat still pounded in my head, but it no longer felt as if it was about to burst.
I stared at the ground. Embarrassment, shame, began to fill the empty space inside me.
“Drink some water, Liv.”
I accepted the bottle Dean extended and took a small sip. Slowly the world around me came into focus again. A few people still milled around, but the last of the crowd was disappearing through the entrance. A raucous cheer came from inside the stadium like steam billowing from an enormous pot.
I clenched my fists to hide the lingering trembles. I couldn’t look at Dean.
“Better?” he asked.
I nodded. “S-sorry.” I rubbed a hand over my face and looked toward the stadium. “The game’s about to start.”
“I don’t care about the game. Can you walk home or should I call us a cab?”
“I want to walk.” Grateful that he no longer expected us to go to the game, I stood on shaky legs. “But you don’t have to…”
“Come on.” He slipped his hand beneath my elbow again as we headed back toward Dayton Street. I kept my scarf loose and unfastened the ties of my sweatshirt to feel the cold air. Exhaustion swamped me.
We walked the length of Dayton Street in silence. The movement felt good, dispelling the threads of anxiety and tension. I shoved my hands into my pockets and hunched my shoulders as we rounded Marion Street to my apartment building.
“You don’t have to come up,” I said, the words sticking in my throat as I fumbled to find my key.
“I need to know you’re okay.”
I let him follow me inside and up the elevator. Once in the safety of my apartment, I sank into a chair and rested my head against the back.
Tears stung my eyes. I tried not to think. I heard Dean rustling around, and then the scent of peppermint tea filled my nose.
“Found it in the kitchen,” he said, placing a cup on the table beside me.
I sat up slowly, too exhausted to hide my dismay. “I’m… I’m so sorry.”
“I’m not a fan of peppermint tea, but you don’t need to apologize for it.”
I managed to crack a smile and looked up. He stood right in front of me, not too close, his hands loose on his hips. Despite the wry tone of his voice, his eyes were dark with concern.
My heart hurt with a different kind of ache. The threat of a panic attack always hovered at the edges of my consciousness, but I hadn’t experienced one in over three years. The fact that I just had reminded me with the force of a blow of my damaged psyche. And the fact that Dean had witnessed it…
God in heaven.
“I’m… they don’t happen often,” I finally stammered. “I… I almost forgot how to deal with them.”
“How long have you had them?” he asked.
“They started when I was eighteen. I went to a therapist and learned behavioral and breathing techniques, but even then they didn’t happen often. I know the triggers, so I’ve managed to avoid situations that might cause them.”
Dean frowned. “Crowds?”
“Sometimes,” I said vaguely. “I haven’t… haven’t been around people much in the past few years.”
I couldn’t get into this. Not now. Maybe not ever.
I put a hand over my eyes. “I’m sorry, Dean. I’m exhausted.”
I couldn’t muster the courage to ask, but I wished he would stay. Though I’d never panicked before without the specific trigger of feeling trapped, the threat of another attack was still there. As much as I didn’t want Dean to witness my panic again, I was more scared of being alone.
“I hate to leave you, Liv.”
I lowered my hand to look at him. The tender concern in his expression eased my anxiety. “I’m really not a total basket case.”
“I know. How about I sleep on the sofa tonight?”
“You wouldn’t mind?”
“I want to.” He drew a few strands of my hair between his fingers, looking as if he were studying them in the light.
Relieved and glad to have something to do besides sit there trembling, I went into my bedroom to get him a clean towel and washcloth. I found an unopened toothbrush in the bathroom cabinet and a fresh bar of soap, which I put on top of the folded towel.
“I keep extra quilts in here.” I took a few magazines and books off the storage chest that served as a coffee table. “Hold on, I’ll get you a pillow too.”