Page 117 of Take My Hand

“I need to get out of here,” he repeats, eyes rapidly scanning every inch of my face, then darting over to the others.

“I know.” I pat his hand locked around my wrist. “I’ll get Arun to call us a car.”

I gently try to free myself but he shakes his head at me, hair tickling the bridge of his nose. His shoulders start to shake and his breathing grows choppy.

Shit.

He must’ve been in a stage of shock this whole time and now the full weight of everything is hitting him, sending him into a panic.

“Walker,” I yell over my shoulder, “get us a car. Now.”

I hear his heavy boots thud against the floors, before the creak of the door swinging open and his voice distantly calling out to Arun.

“I’m right here,” I tell Hayden, removing his grip from my wrist and taking his hand, lacing our fingers together and holding on tightly. “I’m right here. I’m going to get you back to the hotel, okay?”

He nods but I’m not sure anything I’m saying is really penetrating him. His nostrils flare as he tries to suck in oxygen but it doesn’t seem to be enough. I wish I could siphon every ounce of air from my own lungs to feed to his if that would help him at all.

“Car’s here,” Walker calls out, and I rise. Keeping ahold of Hayden’s hand, I gently tug him up, wrapping an arm around him as he gets his feet under him.

“Let’s go, babe. I got you,” I tell him, guiding him past his friends.

Nikolai sits hunched over on the couch, back shaking, while Reid crouches in front of him, talking too low for me to hear. Walker sits next to Nikolai on the couch, rubbing his back. Jane stands to his side, eyes darting around and hands twitching, completely helpless and like she doesn’t even know what to do with herself. She watches Nikolai with such a pained expression that I want to give her a reassuring hug before I leave, but I focus on getting Hayden out the door.

Arun stands next to an SUV a few rows down and as quickly as I can, I direct Hayden toward it. Luckily enough, most of this area has cleared out since Whisper Me Nothings was the headliner for this stage and many other artists have already left.

Arun waves a hand to us as we approach, opening the door. I shoot him a grateful smile and jump in, sliding across the bench seat so Hayden can jump in.

He climbs in wordlessly and buckles his seatbelt with a shaky hand.

Arun reminds the driver of the hotel address, before he leans back and squeezes Hayden’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Hayden.” His face is grim as he retracts his hand and closes the door.

As we begin our drive, weaving through traffic, Hayden whimpers, teeth biting into his bottom lip so hard a bead of blood wells. The sound tears through my chest with deep slashes and I turn in my seat as the full swell of his panic overtakes him. It’s been building and burning and he’s tried to keep it at bay while he was at the festival and in the trailer, but here, finally on his way to a safe spot and away from everyone else, it’s finally hit.

The force of his panic slams into the car, stifling the words in my throat as I watch his hand claw at the collar of his T-shirt. A sound somewhere between a cry, and a groan rips from his mouth as he curls himself forward, lacing his hands through his hair and tugging at the strands. His back heaves and shakes with the force of his gasps, and I unbuckle my own belt, sliding over to sit next to him.

“Ma’am, please?—”

“Don’t bother and turn the air up,” I say, then add, “Please.”

A blast of cold air shoots through the vents above our heads and I direct it to blow over the back of Hayden’s neck as he hyperventilates.

He tries to sit up, but I place a hand on the back of his neck and gently guide him back to tuck his head between his knees. “Keep your head down. Focus on breathing in and out, nice and even.” I count out loud, directing him when to inhale and when to exhale. He struggles at first, mind still telling him to gasp for air and refusing to fall into the calming rhythm.

“Keep trying,” I say, rubbing a hand across his back in soothing circles.

His hair hangs in front of his eyes, hiding them from me, but I can see the pinched skin at the corners shining with tears.

If I could, I’d take every one of those tears of his and shed them myself. I’d shoulder his pain and carry it as my own if it meant he wouldn’t hurt like this right now. Hayden’s breathing finally starts to even out and I don’t stop him when he sits up this time and drops his head back against the headrest. But his face is still pinched in pain and I look outside, trying to gauge how much farther we have to go but I’m too unfamiliar with the city.

“Hayden, babe. Give me five things you can see.” The role reversal hits me like a ton of bricks as I ask him the same question he asked me when I had a panic attack the day that Daniel left the tour this spring.

“I need you to breathe in through your nose, out through your mouth.”

I struggled, the air not seeming to fit into my lungs with panic taking up all the space. But his hands were comforting as they laid on my knees, thumbs rubbing back and forth. I focused on them, the steady rhythm of the movement, and let his voice thrum through my head until my body had no choice but to listen to his instructions.

“That’s it,” he said so softly, I wasn’t sure if he even did say the words. “Now help me out and find five things in the room you can see for me.”

---