Page 79 of See You at the Finish Line

Her words barely register as the ground rises to meet me, but before I can get there, strong arms tighten around my waist, holding me upright.

“Paige?” Adam’s worried voice pierces the fog.

“Leah. Not Leah.” My voice quivers as Shay’s words echo in my head.

I’m only vaguely aware of Adam picking me up and carrying me through the alarmed crowd. He places me in an unfamiliar car and shoves a water bottle in my hand, ordering me to drink. I do so because my brain has shut off. I’m on autopilot.

I’m numb.

Your sister’s ex called, there’s been an accident.

I can’t believe it’s happening again.

Paige is catatonic inthe seat beside me. She keeps muttering under her breath, “Not again, not again,” over and over. I don’t think she’s aware of it.

I have to get her home so she can check her phone. Shay said something about Paige leaving it there so she would feel safe, and I don’t know what that means. It’s driving me crazy.

It’s a struggle to keep my eyes on the road and not watch Paige’s every move to ensure she’s okay. She really starts to worry me when she begins hyperventilating.

“Paige.” I begin to pull over because I can’t do anything to help her while I’m driving.

Her eyes widen in fear. “Don’t stop,” she practically shrieks.

“Okay, I won’t, but you have to look at me.” I glance at her quickly to make sure she’s listening. Her glassy eyes meet mine.

“Name three things you see right now,” I instruct, giving her as much attention as I can. The last thing we need is us getting into an accident.

“Um . . . I seepeople . . .”

“More specific.”

“There’s a woman with a red hat walking a dog.” Her voice is still so shaky.

“Good, what else?”

“A black squirrel. And a fire hydrant.” She squeezes her eyes shut like she can’t bear to look anymore.

“Good, now tell me three things you hear.”

Her eyes stay shut but she answers me. Slowly, but at least she answers.

“The fan in the car. The tires moving over the road. My heart.”

“You can hear your heart?”

“It’s so loud,” she whispers as my own heart thuds along with hers.

“That’s okay. Now we’re going to move three different parts of our bodies.”

When she doesn’t respond, I sneak another glance. Her eyes are still shut tightly and her head rests on the seat. “Nod if you can do that for me.”

When she nods she asks in a wobbly voice, “Does that count as one movement?”

Relief floods me at her joke and blood comes back to my fingers as I loosen my grip on the steering wheel one at a time.

“Yeah,” I say with a breathy chuckle, “that can count as one. Now wiggle your fingers for me.”

This time she does it without any hesitation and breathing comes a little easier. For both of us.

---