Page 27 of A Fine Line

“Goodbye.”

My finger jammed against the cars display, hanging up on the one person who’d helped me more than any other. The one person who saw it for the first time beyond a doctor or therapist. And the one person I trusted the least.

My first panic attack hit me like a freight train. I actually thought I was having a heart attack and pulled to the side of the road in fear I was going to cause a wreck.

I’d just left my apartment- our apartment- after walking in to see the most wretched view of my fiancé with his hands all over another woman. A woman I’d seen plenty of times, and now I’d seen plenty of. Bare breasts, much larger and perkier than my own, and a flat stomach that was so horribly perfect that to this day I criticize my own curves and dips. Marshall’s hand gripped her small waist, his ring finger digging into her skin. My ring was supposed to be on that finger in just two months. It was a foolish thing to notice at the time, but my eyes left the two of them-entirely too encompassed by their passion to notice me- and I stared out at the view out of the large window her bare butt was pressed against.

A sky line of buildings and statues and monuments owned by a city that I hadn’t even picked out. It was his city now, not mine. My gasp was quiet, mouse-like. And as much as I wished I’d stormed in there, raising hell and slashing furniture andshattering engagement photos, I just stood there. Watching the view of the city behind them. I really, really hated that view.

The drive away was when it hit. The chest burning, thighs shaking, bottom lip quivering. Everyone I ever loved was right about the one man who didn’t love me back. Not in the correct way at least. I remembered it like it was yesterday. How I couldn’t breathe, how distant lights were merging into blurry dots as watered pooled in my eyes. I was so stuck. Completely lost. I couldn’t go home- they were there. I didn’t work then, no job or office to run off to. So I parked in this random back parking lot where a man was selling tacos out of a green truck.

I met a Mexican man by the name of Mateo and his mother at the front, they told me the best things to order. A tall man with messy brown hair humming the tune of ‘Love Grows’ was flipping homemade tortillas on a grill behind him and I felt…I don’t know, a touch of peace I think.

I hadn’t felt connected to this city at all until that point. Until I saw the smiles of people sharing elote and taco bowls and I thought, he can’t take everything from me. Maybe I wasn’t stuck, I finally thought. Maybe I was just set free.

A familiar white truck with a taco food truck logo on the back veered into the parking lot and I felt a sigh of relief rush through me knowing he got here safely.

Crew Wells wasn’t a friend. He was never going to be. But I didn’t want him hurt. And from experience I could say I wasn’t going to wish a panic attack on anyone, including him. So if some simple breathing exercises and a softer, more gentle voice was likely to help him get through it then I was glad to.

He hopped out, closing his truck door with a slam before double locking it and turning to me. I sat on the brick steps outside the main lobby. Couples, employees, vendors all passed one by one with their own chamber of commerce needs. Meanwhile, our eyes stayed locked on one another.

I could sense the questioning in them. Are you going to let this go? Or add it to our long list of torments.

My lips tilted just a tad, genuine and real and not a hint of sarcasm in them. Your little secret is safe with me, Crew Wells.

But that didn’t mean I didn’t have questions.

When he took long strides towards me, I stood and wiped the cement debris from my flared pants.

“Ready?” I asked, casual and calm, but gaging. My eyes bared into his looking for any hint of vulnerability there. Nothing came back though. He looked up at me how he always had. Sarcastic scowl with a hint of longing.

“Let’s get this over with.”

Crew trailed beside me, our steps falling in line up the stairs until we reached the top. He opened the door just a crack big enough for him to slip in and close it behind me, walking into the lobby and leaving me slack jawed and a little bit smiling. He was fine. We were back to our normal routine.

I reached for the handle and followed him inside, shoving an elbow into his ribs when I got close enough. “Craigs office is down here, he’s the one we have to see. His assistant seemed…less than convinced that we’d be working together so it may not be as simple as just signing one paper.”

“What? Are we supposed to hold hands or something? It’s a food truck competition for God’s sake.”

“I don’t make the rules here,” I hissed out between gritted smile, sensing the receptionist staring at us.

We turned the corner and went to the third door on the right. I knocked three times, paused, then knocked one more in a cute rhythm.

“Come in,” I heard him pause what sounded like the newest Planet Of The Apes movie.

I gave Crew a look that said follow my lead, and cracked the door open wide.

“Hiya Craig,” I sang out. “hope you’re doing well”

“I am, all of my coworkers are very jealous of the spread you brought earlier. I already ate all of the turtles.”

Crew puffed a breath out behind me outside of the door, mumbling. “Never brought me turtles before.”

I decidedly ignored that and opened the door further for Crew to step in with me. “I’ll bring some to them soon.”

Craig’s laptop let out a loud PING and he apologized. “Let me just figure out how to turn my notifications off…it’s here somewhere now hold on just a minut-”

“Kiss ass.” Crew whispered beside me.

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