Page 38 of Those Two Words

Strong jaw. Crooked nose. Scarred chin. Wavy, dark blond hair. Pine-green eyes.

Green eyes.

Green.

A sob rips through me, and it must shock him because he tightens his hold of me, but all I feel is relief flooding my system. My body goes slack with sudden exhaustion. The panic doesn’t completely disappear, but I repeat the five green items repeatedly in my head. Patrick’s eyes being the lifesaver in the dark ocean that tried to wash me away.

My eyes fall shut, I’m in his arms, cold air hits my face, and he doesn’t once let me go.

For the first time, the darkness doesn’t feel that lonely.

He’s got me.

eighteen

PATRICK

Jo remains cradled in my arms as I walk down the hallway to my bedroom.

My hands have hardly left her since I found her curled up on the floor like my worst nightmares come to life. Her hand was in mine the whole ride over. I planned on taking her back to her apartment, but the need to have her in my space, safe and under my watch, had me carrying her to my truck and driving in the opposite direction.

I dropped a text to the cleaning company to apologize for the mess, one to my mom to let her know we were okay, but I’d be heading to my house tonight, and another to Jules to see if she could cover Jo’s shift tomorrow. Knowing Lottie is safe with my mom also meant that I didn’t have an excuse not to bring Jo to my house. Not that I needed one, but it meant I could give her my full attention and take care of her.

There’s no doubt in my mind that she was in the middle of an intense panic attack. So intense, that I was close to calling George or an ambulance. But what caused it?

The moment I turned the lights on and our eyes met, I could see the panic ebb, and her entire body seemed to relax. The way our eyes locked on each other for those few seconds felt like I was peering into the ocean from one of the bluffs. But today, the sky above the ocean was stormy, and her eyes weren’t the deep blue that I love.

She slept the entire drive, and I’m sure I could have woken her to get her into my house, but something about having her in my arms felt right. I carried her from my truck, through the house, up the stairs, and here we are. The guest room behind us is an option, rather than my bedroom, but the decision is made for me when she reaches up and wraps her hand around the collar of my coat.

I step over the threshold into my darkened room, and her eyelids flutter open. A small frown forms between her brows as she tries to take in her surroundings. It feels bizarre that she hasn’t been in this house before, considering we grew up in each other’s homes.

“We’re at my place,” I assure her. “I didn’t want you to be alone tonight.”

She blinks up at me and speaks for the first time in what feels like hours. “Okay.” Her voice is hoarse, and I make a mental note to check if I have some ginger tea in the pantry.

As much as I don’t want to, I slowly lower her to her feet, and she must have the same reservations, because her hand stays glued to my coat. Placing my hand over hers, I smile at her. “I need to take care of a few things. Why don’t you take a shower?” I nod toward my en suite bathroom. “I’ll grab you some clothes; I think I have some of Florence’s old things here.”

Her lips curl inward and she lowers her head slowly, looking both insecure and nervous. Placing the tip of my pointer finger under her chin, I tilt her face up. “I’m not going anywhere, but if you want me to take you ho?—”

“I want to stay here.”

I shouldn’t love hearing that, but I’m a fool around this woman. She pads across the hardwood floor, glancing back a few times, looking so vulnerable, and shuts the door behind her. When the shower starts to run, I turn around and jog down the stairs, throwing my coat over the banister on my way into the kitchen. Flipping on the kettle, I place my hands on the cool countertop and let my head hang between my shoulder blades.

Only now that I’m alone do I begin to break down tonight’s events.

Seeing Jo in that state, lying on the floor of the restaurant, looking so small and broken, brought back so much heartbreak and trauma to a day I’m sure neither of us want to remember. A reminder of finding someone else I cared for lying hopeless in that building. I know she isn’t broken, but it doesn’t stop me from wanting to help her.

In the years I’ve known her, I’ve never seen Jo in such a way. Sure, she had her moments of stress over work things, or worries like the rest of us, but nothing that would come close to being a panic attack. Was this the first one? When did they start? What caused it?

With a cup of tea, bottle of water, and some aspirin in hand, I head back upstairs. Jo still isn’t out of the shower when I put the items on the bedside table, so I head into the guest room closet and pull out some clothes for her. I’m about to grab one of Flo’s sweaters, when I spot my old lacrosse T-shirt folded up next to it.

Ten minutes later, I’m scrolling through my phone, looking at pictures of Lottie while I wait for Jo to finish in the bathroom. When a text pops up on my phone, I shouldn’t be surprised that my mom is still awake; she won’t be able to sleep until she knows we’re home safe.

Mom: Is she okay?

Patrick: Yeah, we’re at my place.

Mom: Look after our girl. Don’t worry about Lottie, you stay with Jo as long as she needs.

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