Page 255 of Remy

That’s exactly what it feels like—a battle. A war.

Everything is out to get me and I don’t know if I should hide or defend myself.

I hunch, sucking in ragged breaths.

My eyes worsen—the blur, the burn. It takes over everything. My face. My throat. My lungs.

“Sweetie, are you having a panic attack?” she asks.

I shake my head.

This isn’t panic. It’s pain. Misery.

A squeak of hinges carries behind me.

“Ollie?”

I swing around at the sound of Remy’s voice, finding him standing in the doorway, his stark eyes cutting through the final string of my control.

“Remy,” I sob, my knees giving out along with the lifetime’s worth of restraint on my sadness.

He lunges forward, arms outstretched to catch my fall. He drags me into him, calling me home against his chest as the tears I’ve enslaved for years finally fall free.

“It’s okay.” He holds me tighter. “I’ve got you.”

One by one the heavy cascade heats my cheeks, accompanied by deep, ratcheting cries. I bury my face in his neck, the nausea receding as my sobs increase. I shake with the weight of them. Convulsing. Heaving.

Someone places a handkerchief in my hand.

Softly uttered words are spoken between brother and sister.

I don’t understand any of it. I’m too deep in hysteria. Forming a bond. Becoming best friends with grief.

Then I’m being lifted. Carried.

“I’m taking you home,” Remy murmurs in my ear.

I don’t protest. There’s no will to do anything but cling to him as my tears soak the shoulder of his jacket.

He takes me through the external door to the side of the building, the high hedge shadowing us, my uncontrollable weeping echoing off the wall.

I’m carried into the parking lot.

Remy talks to others. Instructs. Makes subtle demands.

I’m too busy sobbing. Devolving.

He continues holding me as we’re nestled into the backseat of an unfamiliar sedan—plush creme leather, new car smell.

I’m strapped in against his chest, his arms never losing their grip, his comfort unwavering.

I close my eyes as someone drives us from the funeral home. I let the tears take over. The pain run free.

“I’m right here, Pyro.” Remy nuzzles my cheek. “I’m not going to leave you.”

God, the way he appeases me. How he soothes.

It’s more than just his words. It’s his touch. His gaze. His existence.

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