Page 43 of Give Me What You Will

“I fuckin’ know what a panic attack is, Sammy. You were just nervous that night—that wasn’t a panic attack.”

Sammy nodded, averting his gaze.

His stomach dropped. “Was it? Did you have a fuckin’ panic attack and not tell me?”

“I thought me begging to get out was me tellin’ you?” Sammy played off coolly, and Frankie stiffened.

Had Sammy said something, and he hadn’t believed him—or worse—ignored it? He stared hard at the man across the cab. What else had he not told him?

He had known from day one that Sammy was gay, but was he really that oblivious about how Sammy felt about him? That blind? Or maybe Sammy was just good at hiding behind all that armor. Maybe it was his fault. He didn’t want to see his friend looking at him a little too long. The way his cheeks would flush whenever Frankie touched him. Maybe he didn’t want to see…

“Fuck, I’m sorry, Sammy,” he admitted gruffly. “I should’ve listened to you.”

“It’s all right.”

“It’s not.”

Sammy sighed. “You’re right—it’s not. But I forgave you a long time ago for that night. Unfortunately for me, the panic attacks stayed. Couldn’t shake the spin, I guess.”

“You still get ’em?”

“Sometimes.”

Frankie’s hand gripped the steering wheel. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to worry you.”

He nodded, an unexpected anger filtering through his veins. Sammy knew everything about his life. Had gone to every match Frankie had ever fought, ridden in every car he had built from the ground up. He had been there for his highs and his lows, and he thought he’d done the same for Sammy. But he was quickly finding out over the past few months that he hadn’t.

“You’re mad,” Sammy stated.

“I’m not,” he said, dismissing it with another nod.

“You nod when you’re about to break something.”

He stopped nodding and shot him a hard look. “You should’ve told me.”

“You’re right,” he replied slowly. “I should’ve.”

“You can’t control me caring about you, Sammy. You gotta let me worry and get mad and do what I need to fuckin’ do when it comes to you, do you understand?”

Sammy’s jaw clenched, and Frankie reached across the space between them, cradling his chin and forcing him to look at him. “The next time you have another attack, you call me. All right?”

He hesitated, and Frankie’s grip on his chin tightened.

“Okay,” Sammy relented.

“Okay?”

The tension in Sammy’s face bothered him, and he sighed, knowing that he couldn’t force him to open up—couldn’t force him to be honest about his life.

“You’re still my emergency contact, just so you know,” Frankie drawled, releasing him and attempting to lighten the situation. “I prefer having you, someone thousands of miles away, over my own fuckin’ family.”

The lines around Sammy’s lips broke, and he snorted. “You’re on my list, too.”

“List? Number one, yeah?”

“Maybe.”