Page 72 of Keepsake

I worked on breathing slowly, letting the air come through my nose and work its way through my body. I needed a plan. That’s what I said. I wasn’t even giving myself time for a plan.

I squeezed my eyes shut and lied, telling myself I was going for a shower as soon as I dared to open them.

I had no idea how long my eyes stayed closed, but when I opened them again Alvaro was back.

With tea.

“Here.” He put the cup on the bedside table.

“What’s that?” I peered at the cup.

“Peach tea,” he said.

My gaze went for the cup back to him. “What’s happening?”

He sighed. “They say herbal tea helps with panic attacks.”

I took the tea in my hands. The mug was warm enough to make me feel better, and I took the smallest sip. “Who are they?”

“The internet.” He avoided my eyes.

Another sip. “I thought you were leaving.”

“I lied.”

“Mmm.”

I closed my eyes as the warmth spread through my chest. My toes curled in satisfaction when it felt like a blanket over the part that hurt the most.

“Better?” Nodding, I opened my eyes to him. “Tell me what else I can do.”

“Nothing,” I said too quickly.

“What do you usually do when it happens?”

I hated how eager he was to help. Alvaro was large, built with muscle and tattoos, but it was his soft side that was the most dangerous.

“Shower, change my clothes, change my sheets.”

“Ok, so finish your tea and we can do all of that. And I’ll order something to eat. What about that Vietnamese place you like?”

He was already moving, fishing his phone from his pocket, and checking on places for delivery.

“It’s the weekend. You should go home.”

He frowned at my suggestion. “Finish that.”

With that order, he left the room, phone in hand.

The tea helped, but I was scared his presence helped more. My shoulders relaxed the second I heard his voice, just like I promised myself wasn’t going to happen. Moving the blanket, I found the pile of paper I scribbled on last night. My plan.

I shook my head, placing the cup on the bedside table and hiding it all again under the pillow.

“Done?” he asked, coming back to the room. “Food is coming.”

“Thanks.” I sat up, getting comfortable, and he arched an eyebrow, making me ask. “What?”

“We are going for a shower.”

---