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Mishaps. She says the word like what happened wasn’t a breakdown, wasn’t fully out of my control. Like it was a spilled cup of coffee or an unfinished contract.

“I think I’ve been just focusing on feeling better, doing what feels right …”

“What’srightis getting yourself back together so you can get back to work,” Mom presses.

“Didyouthink about our last conversation?” I throw back at her.

She crinkles her eyebrows. “What about it?”

“That maybe what you want for me and what I want for myself aren’t the same thing?”

Mom rolls her eyes. “Oh, Addison, what your father and I want for you is the best. There’s no talking your way out of—”

“Why can’t you just listen to me!” I hiss, trying to keep my voice down and avoid a scene, but knowing that we’re heading in that direction regardless. “Be happy for me when I’m happy? I just did a big thing I’m really proud of, and you don’t care!”

“Addie, you’ve helped our firm sell multi-million-dollar houses.That, I’m proud of. So you baked a few cakes today? I’m sorry, sweetheart, but that isn’t the same,” Mom huffs, and her words hit me like a brick to the chest. The way she lays it out, so logical and forthright, it just makes sense. Of course a couple of cakes are nothing compared to the millions of dollars I’ve helped them generate.

“But I washappy,” I whisper, afraid that if I speak anylouder, I might cry.

Mom takes a deep breath, exasperation lining her features—as if I’m the villain for making her feel guilty.

Hot tears prick the corners of my eyes, and I swallow hard, determined not to cry here. “I need to go,” I say quietly, brushing past Mom and toward the door.

“Addison!” she calls after me. “Where are you going?”

But I don’t turn around. I can’t. Not without giving everyone in the mess hall a perfect view of my tear-streaked cheeks.

I push the door open and step out into the summer night. Despite the warmth, I wrap my arms around my torso, feeling the need to keep myself together, keep myself from falling apart. I’m halfway to my cabin when I hear the sound of crunching gravel behind me.

“Addison!” Cruz’s voice. “Addison!” he calls again when I don’t stop.

His hand catches my arm, stopping me and turning me toward him. It’s only then that I realize how hard I’m breathing—it’s always how it starts. Thehyperventilating. It sneaks up on me. Like a monster in the dark.

The panic is never far behind.

“Oh no,” I whimper, the realization sinking in. Because once I detect it for what it is, there’s no stopping it. I clench my fists at my sides, squeezing my eyes shut.

“Addison,” Cruz says again, his voice slower. “Look at me.”

But I simply squeeze my eyes tighter, gritting my teeth.

“Addison,” he pleads. “Baby.” His hands move to cup my face, his thumb caressing my cheek. “Look at me, Princess,” he instructs. “Breathe.”

My eyes flutter open, finding his.

“That’s it,” he tells me. “Breathe. In. Out,” he repeats over and over again, and I force myself to breathe in time with his words, my gaze glued to his, his eyes dark in the moonlight. And slowly, my fists unclench, my heartbeat slows, and my breathreturns to normal.

Cruz pulls me against his chest, rubbing my back softly. “I’m sorry about what your mom said,” he says softly.

“You heard it?” I ask numbly, still in shock that he’d somehow managed to pull me out of a panic attack before it even began. I don’t think anyone has ever done that before.

“I think everyone heard it,” he whispers.

Embarrassment washes over me, but I try not to dwell on it. “Is she right?” I ask, my voice breaking ever so slightly.

Cruz lets go of me, stepping back far enough to look me in the eye. “No,” he says emphatically. “Your opinions about your life matter more than hers.”

I swallow. “But maybe she is,” I protest. “I mean, who am I to throw away the opportunities they’ve given me? Am I being stupid? Careless?”