Page 18 of Wait for You

That made Mat grin. Many of their dates in the past had ended with a coldcerveza, tamales . . . “And tacos.”

???

Imogen

This wasn’t a punishment.Deep breath in.

She wasn’t trapped in a confessional.Let it out.

Deep breath.The air didn’t smell of incense.Dust, nothing more.Exhale.

They were moving; she’d be able to get out.

Imogen reminded herself to breathe as she repeated those facts over and over while letting Mateo drag her through the dark. His rough hand wrapped around hers lent her the strength she needed to keep her legs from buckling—barely.

As it was, the high heels weren’t helping. She should’ve kicked the shoes off, but being unable to see the floor made that idea less than enticing. Who knew what was in this corridorwith them. She refused to think about things like spiders or . . .cucarachas.

Madre mía!

Thinking about cockroaches completely grossed her out, and she struggled not to gag. If there was one thing she hated, it was cockroaches. A shudder raced down her back, and she barely resisted brushing her hands over herself. Even though she knew there weren’t any, it felt like the insects crawled all over her skin.

At least she’d managed to distract herself from one fear by conjuring another. Internally, she rolled her eyes. But that was a mistake. Her breathing shallowed out when the old fear came rushing back.

Imogen became afraid of tight, dark spaces as a child. It started when she was only eight years old. That was the first year she spent at the boarding school in Spain. One of the sisters liked to lock children who misbehaved in a dark confessional—for hours.

The box had been modified; it had no screens for light to shine in. The school used the confessional as an obedience tool, claiming the isolation of solitary confinement would help children reflect on their actions while the darkness would help them seek repentance with God.

Imogen supposed it worked because she always came out of the confessional apologizing and begging not to be put back in ever again. But her contrition came from fear—and fear alone.

Deep breath in.

Exhale.

As much as she tried to simply focus on her breaths, thoughts of the past intruded.HermanaDolores had been particularly fond of that form of punishment. The first time Imogen had wound up in the confessional was for rolling her eyes at the nun. She could still see the woman’s disapproving gray stare and upturned nose. For being a godly woman,HermanaDoloresseemed to despise children . . . or maybe she just hadn’t liked Imogen. Either way, as a young girl, she learned very quickly to stop the impulse to roll her eyes whenever it arose.

At almost thirty, Imogen didn’t like to think of herself as claustrophobic. It had been years since she’d had an episode like this, and she’d thought she’d conquered the fear. Though, perhaps she just hadn’t tested it in too long or the stress of the current situation brought it back to the surface. Either way, she was more than ready to get out of there.

How long is this corridor, anyway?

As if he could read her thoughts, Mat murmured, “Not much longer.”

Good. Because she was about thirty seconds away from losing it. Maybe counting would help calm her. Wasn’t that a thing?

Treinta, veintinueve, veintiocho . . . She started from thirty and worked her way backward, all while trying to take deep breaths over the racing of her pulse. She’d made it to twelve by the time Mat stopped moving.

He squeezed her hand. “Stay here a beat. I’m gonna make sure it’s clear.”

Imogen’s heart leaped into her throat at the thought of him leaving her alone in the dark. She opened her mouth to yell no but only managed a squeak. After a swallow, she got out the word, “No.” Another swallow and she managed, “Please, Mat.”

Her death grip on his hand became her lifeline.Absolutely not.He could not leave her alone here.

She felt him turn to face her. He might not be able to see her expression, but there’s no way he missed how loud her breathing had become. Her lungs and her heart were in a race. She wasn’t sure which organ was winning at the moment. “Please.”

Her head started to feel funny as if she was getting dizzy because she couldn’t get enough air. Then a roaring filled her ears. She shook her head, but the noise didn’t go away.

Where is that coming from?

“Gen?” She barely heard Mat over the roaring. Her legs grew weak, and she had the strangest sensation. It seemed like her vision blurred even though she couldn’t see anything but darkness.

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