Page 45 of Winter's End

“Cam is bowling. Drew and Quick are sitting at the table. The bowling lane is to my left and Travis is sitting beside me.”

“What can you touch? Four things.”

I immersed myself in the pseudo-world of Harold’s in my mind.

“Travis’ hand in mine, the hard bench beneath me, the scratchy wool of my sweater, and the hot air from the heater above us.”

“Three things. What can you hear?”

“Pins falling, kids behind us shrieking, and the roll of bowling balls.”

“Two things you can smell.”

His voice was closer now, but I wasn’t willing to open my eyes and break my concentration.

I shifted in the seat, deepening my focus. “Ummm, wood varnish and Travis’ body wash.”

“One thing you can taste.”

I gave myself an internal high-five that I didn’t have five tastes to figure out—who the hell could taste five things at a time was beyond me.

“My mint Chapstick.”

I could sense his heat hovering above me when he whispered. “Good.”

My eyes flew open; Logan’s brown eyes took up all the space in front of me.

“How do you feel right now?”

I ignored the staring that was making me decidedly giddy and assessed my body. A controlled calm had washed over me. I felt more relaxed in my skin than I had in months; maybe years.

“Good.” I smiled reluctantly and met his searing gaze. “Really relaxed, actually.”

The genuine satisfied grin that filled his features was breathtaking; it was if I was seeing the true heart of Logan Eccles for the first time.

We did the exercise again, using three different scenarios, before he taught me a few different breathing techniques to use based on how out of control I felt. It was surprisingly easy to spend this time with him, and strangely far more intimate than my fighting session with Cam.

“Practice this exercise before bed. You need to condition your body to reach for this tool when you’re in a panic state—like muscle memory. You won’t be able to do that if you’re not used to using it.”

He moved to sit beside me on the couch, the heat of his thigh searing against mine.

“You can also redirect your focus to a single thing.”

He motioned to his right hand, where a chunky gold ring with Harvard insignia I hadn’t really noticed before sat on his ring finger.

“This is my tether when I struggle to keep it under control. I focus on every micro detail—the color, the shape, the size, how it feels on my skin, how smooth the metal is …”

His voice trailed off as he continued to stare at the jewelry, sinking into the memories of the staved-off panic of his past.

“Hey.”

I reached for his hand and interlaced our fingers, rubbing my thumb over the indented crest of his ring.

“Stanley’s going to get his, Logan. We’re going to make sure of it.”

He tugged on my hand so sharply, I fell into his lap, my face shunted into the crook of his elbow. He let go of my hand to adjust me into a seated position and intertwined our fingers again.

“Carson will, too.” He kissed the top of my head as I settled into the rare comfort that was Logan Eccles, enveloped by his expensive cologne and powerful arms.

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