Page 64 of 12 Days of Mistletoe

“Breathe,” I tell myself.In for five, out for seven.I plunk down onto the porch step, feeling the tactile, cold porch beneath me. I pull in a breath of chilly air, filling my lungs and paying attention to the sharpness. Noel moves in between my legs, not even distracted by the sugary goodness on my fingers. With her nose, she nudges my pocket once more.

“I’m okay,” I tell her, pulling in another breath. “All right, good girl? I’m okay. I just need a minute.”

I lean down and rest my head against hers, breathing and counting, but my heart doesn’t feel like slowing down.

I’m slightly aware of the rumble of the sliding door behind us. But I’m too busy breathing and ignoring anything that may stress me out any further. And a motherly chat from Marlene would stress this girl out.

“Bonnie?” Elliot’s quiet voice sounds from behind me. “Are you okay?”

I don’t look back. I keep my head to Noel’s. I breathe. Icount. And after another minute, I’m able to answer him. “I’m okay.”

“Can I sit?”

“Yeah,” I say.

Breathe.

Elliot settles in next to me, the warmth of his body feeling like a space heater out here. “Did someone upset you because?—”

“No.” I lift my head and peer over at him, a chill running down my spine. I am suddenly very aware of how cold it is outside, how cold I am. “They’ve been kind.”

Noel yips out a small bark and nudges her nose between me and Elliot, nudging my thigh once more.

A low, rumbling breath falls from Elliot’s lips. “What’s that about?”

I swallow and remind myself that my weaknesses do not make me weak. “She wants me to take my meds.”

“Is it time?” He throws a thumb over his shoulder. “I can grab you a glass of water.”

“No, it’s not about the time. It’s my anxiety medication. She can tell when I need help calming down.”

He’s halfway to his feet. “Let me grab?—”

But I reach for his hand and tug him back down. He grunts as his bottom hits the top stair once more.

“I’ll be okay,” I say. I don’t want him to leave. Strangely, in a small way, Elliot has the same effect on me as Noel. He’s a calming presence. “Stay,” I tell him.

“Sure. Whatever you want,” he says.

I breathe again and tell myself for the sake of this act May has us doing that I’m going to touch him. It wouldn’t surprise me at all if his family was watching us through awindow. With that desperate thought motivating my next movements, I lay my head on Elliot’s shoulder and breathe.

Breathing is key.

I can do this. And everyone is different. I am someone who would rather control a smaller attack with breathing and Noel. I’ll take my meds if I need to, but not before I’ve exhausted other options.

His warm hand skids over my thigh. He reaches for my hand and threads his fingers through mine—crusty dough and all. He doesn’t seem to mind, and I’m happy to let him take hold of me. I breathe in again, counting my breaths, closing my eyes, and letting the cold December air fill my lungs and caress my skin.

“Can I ask what happened?”

It’s an old story, really, and I shouldn’t care if he knows. I tell myself not to care. “I don’t want to disappoint them. I’m going to.”

“You’re not.”

“You don’t know that.” My anxiety is always connected to the unknown, to what I can’t control. I can control if I kiss Elliot or not, if I save my home and keep Noel—as abnormal as the situation may be—but I can’t control what his family will think of me when all of this is over.

“No,” he says, his fingers squeezing mine tight. “Remember the story? I’m telling them that you were perfect, because let’s face it, you have been. But I, being the idiot I am, wasn’tfeelingit. So, like a dummy, I broke up with you.”

“Shattered my heart,” I say, clutching his fingers back and going along with his impromptu tale.

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