Page 102 of Conrad

Ahead of them, on the next road, a police car screamed past them.

Penny put her hand on Conrad’s arm, the sinewed muscles tight. “Just breathe.”

He gave her a look.

“What?”

“I never want to do that again.”

“Find a dead body?”

He shook his head, then leaned it back against the seat. Closed his eyes. He looked a little pale.

“Conrad, are you having another panic attack?”

“I think this might be a cardiac arrest.” He put his hand on his chest.

Oh my. Yes, this had been a bad idea. She turned in her seat. “We’re fine. We didn’t really commit a crime. We could call it a wellness check.”

His mouth tweaked, a tiny smile.

“You’re having fun.”

“I’m not. For the love. In the world I live in, it was a crime, Penny.”

“Then why are you grinning?”

He opened his eyes. “I’m not.”

“You’re totally grinning.”

“Yeah, well, it’s better than panicking!”

She raised an eyebrow.

He sat up. Turned to her, his eyes wide.

“What?”

“You. Wow.”

“What? I don’t?—”

“You’re the answer.”

“To . . . world peace?”

He sat up, holding on to the steering wheel, staring ahead. “I got my first panic attack when I made the Duck Lake paper after the Zamboni accident. It was just a police report, but I was horrified. I’d been this sports hero and then . . .” He shook his head. “I felt naked, and exposed, and then I had a full-out episode. My sister Austen was there—saw the entire thing. I started seeing a therapist after that, and mostly it went away. But it’s still there whenever—” He blew out another breath. “Whenever those feelings of helplessness, or maybe even embarrassment, show up.”

He made a wry face. “Or, of course, when I think I’m going to be arrested.”

Right. “So hanging out with me triggers panic. That’s beautiful.”

He wore a small expression of horror and she laughed.

“No, Penny, that’s the thing. I’ve been living with panic my entire life until . . . you.”

“Me?”

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