Page 86 of The Last Days of Lilah Goodluck

“Shit.” He releases my hand with a panicked face. “I’m so sorry, Leannan. Are you all right?”

I carefully flex my fingers. “It’s okay. All good.”

But the angst doesn’t disappear from his eyes. His harried gaze sweeps the control panel, and he pushes the button to call for help. And he just keeps pressing that sucker as if it’s his job. The accompanying ringing noise is deafening. No one in the building could be unaware of our situation. Which is when I remember what Willow said about him being locked in the cupboard.

“Alistair, look at me,” I say. “Someone will be getting help.”

His hand falls back to his side without comment. Both sets of fingers curl into fists.

“You really don’t like small spaces, huh?”

“No.”

“Guess it goes back to when you were a child. But we’ll be out of here soon,” I say. “An old building like this, they’re probably used to it stopping and starting all the time.”

His nod is more a jerk of the chin than anything else.

“Do breathing exercises work or—”

“No.”

“Okay. Can you tell me what might help?”

He says nothing. Nor does he meet my eyes. There’s a general air of misery about him, and I desperately want to make it all better.Shit.He wouldn’t even be in this situation if it weren’t for me. Though he is also an adult who made his own choices. But yeah.

“You know, plenty of people have phobias,” I say. “It’s not a moral failing. No one is asking you to be perfect.”

His laughter is wholly without humor.

“Let me amend that to no one who matters.”

A muscle jumps in his jaw. “You can just imagine what the fucking media would make of this if they knew. That I lose my mind over something as basic as a fucking elevator. I should have outgrown it by now.”

“Who said our brains made sense and do what we want? Because that is a lie. Big. Huge. Just an enormous fucking fabrication.”

“Is that so?” He gives me a glance. “I don’t like being vulnerable.”

“How can I take your mind off this?”

“It’s fine. I’m fine.”

“Damn right you are. Have you seen your ass?” I ask with a smile. “Because I was watching when you got out of bed this morning and whoa. The thirst is real.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re very welcome.”

The air inside the elevator has warmed some. It is a seriously small space. I don’t even have an issue with being confined, and I am not loving this. Not even a little. I stare up at my hazy reflection in the mirrored ceiling.

“Have you ever thought about putting a mirror above your bed?” I ask. “Just a thought.”

He too looks up, and the rigid set of his shoulders eases at the distraction. “I can almost see down the front of your top.”

“Can you?”

“You really do have the most amazing breasts.”

“Bountiful cleavage is my burden in life.”

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