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“What did Bry bake today?”
I see-saw in a harsh breath. “W-what?”
“What did he bake?”
“Umm…p-peach blondies?” I sniff loudly, and my chest aches from the serrated panting.
He nods, still cupping my face. “What else?”
Frustration curls through me. I can’t suck in oxygen, and he wants me to recite him a list?
“I…can’t,” I start, then try again at his scowl. “Bakewell. Slices…p-pinwheels, rocky road cookies, a…almond croissants.”
When I finish, my breathing’s less laboured and slower.
Bry hovers at my side. “Here, have some water.” He holds the glass up to my mouth. After I take a few sips, he removes it and offers me a sad smile.
“What do we do?” I ask in between bunged-up sniffles.
Moments ago, I was celebrating the small win of no longer flinching over sudden noises, and now I’m thrown right back to the overwhelming terror.
“You don’t need to do anything. I’ll sort it with Logan,” Nate grunts.
He kisses my forehead and disentangles from me so he can retrieve the phone from his pocket. Bry holds out the letter, a slight shake to his hand, and Nate takes it. I’m not sure whether it’s for my sake, or his, but he doesn’t make the call in front of me, instead choosing to head back out the front door.
An itch in my fingertips has me gritting my teeth against the urge to follow him and drag him back inside.
Bry steps in front of me, and his soft hands frame my face. “He’ll be okay. He won’t go far.”
My hands fist at my sides as I gnaw my lip uneasily. “What about the others? Should I call them? Or message?” I leave out vocalising the idea to demand they come straight home.
“I think that’s a good idea, so they’re aware, and it might ease some of your worries too.”
Pulling free of his hold, I lean over the back of the sofa and scoop my phone from the cushion.
“If anything, this has taught me I should worry. I’ve started to grow complacent, and something could’ve happened to any of you yesterday. Shit. Or any day,” I retort sharply, aware that I’m lashing out, but I can’t stop it.
“Or you,” he replies simply, not making a move to comfort me.
I’m not sure I’m grateful for the space or if I hate it.
“Losing any of you feels harder,” I whisper, head shaking as I blink through the stupid tears and try to scroll on my phone.
His hand reaches over and covers the screen. “And I almost lost you. I’ve lost so many people and almost losing you was still the hardest. Don’t diminish your importance…please?”
My tongue feels thick in my mouth, words hard to say. “If…if I worry about myself, then I’m afraid I’ll completely drown under the weight of it. Worrying about all of you gives me action, something I can actually do. For myself, it’s harder to fight the panic and not get swept away and give up.”
His shoulders drop, and his eyes soften. He steps in closer, and my head tilts back to maintain the focus on his face. He’s always so understanding, so warm, and I need that…so much.
“Fighting for someone else is always easier than fighting for yourself.” He nods and brushes his fingers against my trembling lips.
I’m not going to cry.
Instead, there’s a building compulsion to scream.
“But I’ll always fight for you,” he promises, and my head bows under the weighted emotions, thudding lightly to rest against his chest. It would be so easy to just stay here, bury myself in him, and forget about everything else.
None of us really need to leave. We could schedule grocery deliveries, get some gym equipment to keep Nate sane. There’s the small matter of bills to pay, but I’m sure we could eventually figure it out.
