Page 59 of Forever Player

“You aren’t reading it wrong. We can be friends. I’m sorry if I offended you in any way. I don’t really know how to navigate our situation,” I confess, feeling like I need to show him only a fraction of the vulnerability he’s shown me.

“I get that. It’s new for me too but we need to keep the avenues of communication open. You haven’t spoken to me in days. I’ve been losing my mind over it. I don’t even know how to explain it and maybe sharing my feelings is too much for you. I don’t want to push you away, but I don’t want to lose you either.”

Damn him. I don’t know when he developed this sweet side, but it’s like kryptonite slowly wearing me down. Only I have to be strong.

I straighten my spine. “I can’t talk feelings, Brett. All this happened so fast I have whiplash. I kissed you and I asked for what happened in the truck but I need space. I can’t offer you a relationship or anything.”

“Is there someone else?” he asks, throwing me off.

My head snaps back almost startled by his question. “Brett, I barely left my house in fourteen months. When I came home pregnant and without a partner, I felt ashamed. I stayed on the farm ninety-nine-percent of the time. I basically only went for doctors’ appointments in Nashville. Even after Maylee was born, I just stayed home.”

“That must have been so hard for you. Hearing how alienated you were makes me feel sick inside, Willow.”

“I had my family,” I reply, looking in his eyes.

“In the week and a half I’ve been here, I’ve barely seen any of them. If I wasn’t working the farm with Jacob and Lev, I don’t think I would see them at all. Your mom is barely around and Finn has his own life. So what is keeping you here, Honey?”

I swallow hard, feeling the sting of tears. He isn’t wrong. My family is no Brady Bunch. Jacob was around a lot more toward the end of my pregnancy and when Maylee was born, but he’s taken a step back now that Brett is here. Brett is right though. I’ve been hiding out and lonely.

“I told you I didn’t have money to go back to the city,” I say, and it isn’t a lie. “My finances brought me home. At least I could focus on myself during the pregnancy without having to worry about money.”

“I could get you an apartment in the city if you like, but I would love for you and Maylee to come live with me. Unless you tell me you are hell-bent on staying in this place, then I will find a way to move here.”

I snort, laugh, and cry all at the same time. “You would move to Sugar Meadow?”

He takes hold of my hand, and his thumb moves back and forth, caressing my skin. “Yes.” He looks me dead straight in the eyes, so I don’t question his sincerity.

I take a deep breath. Then my head falls into my hands. My head is spinning.

“Talk to me, Willow. I’m not the enemy. Just tell me what you are feeling,” he urges, his voice filled with concern.

“I have a tsunami brewing inside me. My head is spinning and my palms are growing clammy and now my heart is racing.”

He hisses, “Okay, you’re having a panic attack. There is no danger.” He places his hand on my back. “I need you to breathe in slowly. Hold your breath for two seconds and then let it out slowly, counting to four.”

I do as he says. His voice is somehow soothing, anchoring me with all the upheaval built up in my body. He guides me through breaths, telling me we need to do this for another three minutes since adrenaline is known to have a three-minute lifespan. He assures me the breaths will calm my body, and he’s right. With each inhale and exhale something inside my belly and my mind eases. The tension slowly begins to drift away. I remove my hands from my head and straighten up and Brett breathes with me. His eyes remain laser focused on me as we breathe together. When he says the three minutes are up, a calmness floats through my body that wasn’t present before.

“You good?” he asks.

“Yeah, where did you learn that?” I ask him.

“My sister started to get panic attacks when she first came home pregnant. The father was never in the picture and she felt scared and alone. She went for therapy, and she learned a bunch of tricks,” he explains. “Does this happen often?”

“It started happening since I came home pregnant,” I say, oddly enough.

Brett’s lips turn into a crooked frown. “Have you talked to anybody about it?”

I shake my head. “I googled tips on dealing with them. The box breathing we just did is a pretty common way of dealing with it, but it really helped when you guided me through it.”

Brett’s shoulders deflate. “I don’t want to be the cause of your stress.”

His words and actions cause the walls I’ve built around me to fracture, but I can’t let him tear them down. I need to stay in control here.

“You aren’t, Brett. You only have a few days left here and I am thinking on your offer. I love New York, but I don’t love the idea of having to be dependent on you,” I say, giving him a small ounce of my vulnerability.

“I can appreciate that,” he replies because this man is so understanding.

“I want to go back to work and put Maylee in the day care at my gym. I would only need to stay with you until I make enough money to afford first and last month’s rent,” I explain.

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