“Yeah, don’t feel obligated, Maddy. We’re grateful for the lift to the airport…”
“I want to,” I interject, turning back to Tanya just before standing and sliding my hands away from Dylan’s fragile hold. “I’d really like to help, and I can make up my time. My dad will understand.”
Tanya glances to Will for approval, and I turn to face him as well. His focus shifts between us, and his resolve weakens just enough.
“He won’t understand at all, but to hell if I can talk you out of something once your mind is made,” he relents.
“He will, but you’re right about one thing…” I say, moving to the doorway and sliding through, my arm grazing his chest as I pass. “You can’t talk me into or out of anything, Will Hollister.”
I leave him with Tanya to finish getting Dylan packed and ready for our trip, and I take over finishing the dishes in the kitchen. I cry hard, but I don’t make a single sound, and I don’t turn my face away from the sink until I know every last puffy, red piece of evidence has been erased.
When we get the car packed, I slide into the passenger seat next to Will and call my father’s number. When he answers, I tell him I’m going with Will to help. I tell him it’s important, and when he asks for the details, I tell him I can’t share any. He’s livid, but he’s also my daddy. I promise him a new record at the meet next week, and that seems to lighten his mood enough that when I hang up I’m left with only one heavy burden on my heart.
Will’s hand rests on the gearshift between us, and without thinking, I thread my fingers through his. His mouth opens and a small breath escapes. It’s nothing grand, but that small sound cuts deep. He’s breaking himself trying to save so many people, but nobody has ever stepped up to save him.
I’m not sure I’m strong enough to, either. But I can sure as hell get him through the next few hours, in the air—in his worst nightmare.
Chapter Thirteen
Will
With every step forward, I want to take six back. I want to run. I’ve never wanted to run more.
My counselor, after the DUI, told me that I was probably experiencing a panic attack when I drove into that tree. I didn’t know what he meant because, well, Jack Daniels does a damn good job of erasing the symptoms of a panic attack. But I’m sober now, and this—this is definitely a panic attack.
Everywhere I look, the earth is shaking. Just a little. The colors are brighter, and my forehead will not stop sweating. I can barely focus enough to find my way to the group of seats just outside our gate. Maddy took the lead, checking us all in, loading the luggage, and getting the boarding passes. As difficult as it is to travel with Dylan, his medical condition makes some things easier. We went through a special security area, which meant that there was more time to scrutinize things—scrutinize me. For a while, I thought they were going to pull me into a room and test my urine because I look like I’m in withdrawals.
“When you have a panic attack, you will feel like you are dying.” That one line from some state-mandated substance-abuse counselor, whose name and face I hardly remember, is ingrained in my mind. He could not have been more accurate.
“Can I get you some water? Or maybe just an aspirin, or something to chew on?” Maddy has been doting on me the entire way to the airport, through security, and to these chairs that I just want to curl up in. I hate that I have become the burden for this trip. We’re all supposed to be here for Dylan, but he’s been a champ. I have been a massive pain in the ass.
“I don’t know, maybe…I guess. No water. I don’t want to have to get up as soon as I’m buckled in. But maybe gum? Or candy?” I feel like I want to throw up, but I have to give Maddy something to do. She looks defeated, and I don’t like her looking at me like I’m a lost cause.
“Got it. I’ll get a little of everything. I’ve already drained my savings, so this goes on credit,” she says through a laugh. “You want me to call Duncan, too?”
“No, I can handle that,” I say, sliding my phone into my palm.
I watch her walk away a few steps and I let myself succumb to the shiver that’s been building in my spine. Before she gets very far, though, Maddy spins around and rushes back to me, slipping into the seat next to me and throwing her arms around me. Her head falls onto my shoulder as she squeezes me tightly, and I hold my breath the entire time.
“It’s going to be okay,” she says into the small space where her mouth rests against my neck. I want to believe her. I choose to believe her.
I nod a few times and force my mouth into a smile. It’s thin and it doesn’t hold up for long, but I think maybe it’s more than I could have given her five minutes ago, so that’s progress.