I shrugged. “Just wanted to know more about her, I guess.” Something was tickling the back of my mind. The hint of a lyric. Something. I tried to grasp it, but it disappeared like a wisp of smoke. I refocused on Taylor.
“I don’t know her super well, but she’s incredibly kind.” A soft look overtook Taylor’s face. “She was really good to me when I worked here. She lives in the apartment upstairs.” I sensed there was more to the story. I didn’t push. But, damn, those bewitching eyes.
3
Tessa
The panic still had a hold of my chest, tightening its grip millimeter by millimeter. I ducked into the kitchen and moved to the main room, tapping Jensen on the shoulder. “I’m going to take my break.” My voice came out slightly strangled, but there was nothing I could do about it.
Jensen’s smile fell as she studied me. “Are you all right?”
I nodded, licking my suddenly dry lips. “Fine.”
Jensen’s gaze continued to prod, but her voice relented. “Take all the time you need.”
“Thanks.” I turned on my heel and walked as quickly as possible to the back door. Pushing it open, I felt the slightest bit of relief. The cool, early spring air was just what I needed. Leaning back against the outside of the building, I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, trying to keep my breaths slow and steady.
It didn’t seem to help like it usually did. My heart still beat in an erratic rhythm, and my breathing didn’t seem to want to obey.
My back slammed into the hallway wall with a force that stole the air from my lungs. Hot breath, stale with the smell of whiskey, filled my senses.
“You were flirting with him. Just admit it.” Garrett’s hand tightened around my neck with a force that I knew would leave bruises.
Things were bad. So very bad if he would risk marking me in a place someone might see. My mind raced, trying to think of anything I could say that might placate him. “I—wasn’t.” It was a battle to get each word out of my compressed throat.
Garrett shook me like a rag doll, knocking my head back against the wall with such ferocity, stars danced in my vision. “Liar. You’re a whore, just like your mother—"
The pain of my nails digging into my palms brought me out of the memory. My breaths continued to come in rapid succession.Name five things you can see, Tessa. Just five things.I searched around me. My lips formed silent words.Grass. Fence. Dumpster. Stone. Car.
I let out a slow breath.Name five things you can smell. Tea. Cinnamon. Chocolate. Pine trees. Trash.
I inhaled slowly.Name five things you can touch. Jeans. Wall. Air. Steps. Grass.
My awareness gradually came back to my body. That’s what it felt like in these moments, that my mind hovered above my physical self, unable to reconnect. I sank to the ground, tears streaming down my cheeks. As I wiped them away, I saw that I had broken the skin on my hands.Shit.I’d have to cover that up as best I could.
My cheeks heated at the thought of what a basket case I must have seemed to Liam. Of all the people for me to make a fool of myself in front of, it just had to be him. A guy whose face often stared back at me from the magazine rack and whose voice often drifted over the speakers in the tea shop.
I groaned, letting my head fall to my knees. I’d thought I was getting better. When I first fled DC, I’d had panic attacks every single day. Occasionally, they were so bad, I almost passed out.
When I finally got to Sutter Lake, I’d gone to the public library and started researching. I obviously didn’t have health insurance I could use and couldn’t afford a therapist, but I’d found a surprising number of helpful tools online. Breathing exercises, plans for when an attack did come on, even meditations I could do.
Slowly, the panic had receded. But the thing that helped most of all was not being in situations that triggered me. That meant I was never—and I mean, ever—alone with a man. If I wasn’t alone with a male, I couldn’t feel intimidated or threatened. I wasn’t reminded ofhim.
I knew it meant I was avoiding a fair portion of life, but I couldn’t figure out another way to keep the attacks at bay. At least, not yet. A faint meow pulled me out of my depressing train of thought. A tiny orange head peeked out from under the dumpster.
“Hey there, little one.”
The tiny kitten studied me but didn’t venture out any farther.
“What are you doing out here by yourself? Where’s your mama?” The kitten looked too small to be on its own.
The furry creature ventured two tentative steps out from its hiding spot.
“That’s it. Come on. I won’t hurt you.” I slowly extended my hand. The kitten froze. “It’s okay,” I encouraged.
With careful, tiny steps, the orange, tiger-striped feline made its way towards me, sniffing the air as it came.
I held my breath as it reached my fingertips. Another sniff. Another step. It nuzzled my hand. “Aren’t you the most precious thing.” I scratched behind its ears. “We need to get you some milk or something to eat. I don’t even know what to feed kittens as young as you are.”
