Page 61 of Trial Run

“And I have to get Marco out the door in forty-five minutes.”

In the kitchen, Nell scooped coffee grounds into the coffee maker. Marco had finished his breakfast, and he paused his video to launch himself into a conversation with Ben about the show he’d been watching. He gestured wildly, almost knocking his plate to the ground. Ben caught it at the last minute and slid it away from his flailing elbows, then looked up and winked at Nell.

Nell turned her back on them both for a minute, facing the counter. She needed to pull herself together, but tears stung her eyes and her throat burned.

So it felt like Ben belonged here. So he was perfect with her son, and perfect in bed, and perfect for her.

Last night, they’d agreed to keep dating. She should be ecstatic things were working out in a way she’d never dared to hope. So why was she shaking all over? It was too much, too good. It couldn’t be real, that was the problem with it.

She took a steadying breath and reached above her head to the cabinet to get mugs, setting them on the counter one by one with care. She poured the coffee with a shaking hand.

“How do you take your coffee?” she asked. She’d never seen him at breakfast, so she didn’t know. There were so many things she still didn’t know about him, all different ways things could go wrong.

“Black is fine.” His dark eyes met hers, seeing through her, like always. He stood and crossed the kitchen to her.

“Thank you for the coffee,” he said softly. “But I should get going. Let you get ready for your day.”

A buzzing sound interrupted him, and he frowned and pulled his phone out of his pocket. The frown deepened when he scanned the screen for the caller’s name.

“I need to take this.”

He strode out of the kitchen, answering the call in a low voice as he walked into the front entryway. He paced back and forth as he talked to whoever was on the other end. She could hear his side of the conversation, but it was all one-word answers given in a clipped tone of voice. Maybe another patient emergency.

Nell opened her own phone and scanned through her messages. Her email inbox contained several junk messages. And one reply, from her job application for the manager position at the plant nursery—a polite rejection letter, saying she didn’t have the necessary qualifications for the job, but to please consider them for future applications.

She clicked her phone off and set it on the counter. She hadn’t expected an interview. It had been a very long shot, and she hadn’t gotten it. Just one more rejection to move past. It was a good thing she hadn’t told Ben, because now she wouldn’t have to explain.

When Ben didn’t return to the kitchen after a few more minutes, she poked her head out the door to check on him.

He was leaning against the wall by her front door, one hand on the middle of his chest. His breathing was short, labored, his face a pale gray color. She rushed over to him.

“Ben, is it a panic attack? Can you sit down for a minute?”

His head whipped around. “I’m fine. Go back to Marco.”

“Marco will be okay without me for a minute. Please, sit. I don’t want you to pass out.” She reached out to put a hand on his upper arm, but he jerked away from her. A moment later, he slid down the wall, knees bent up to his chest. His head dropped forward, but his breath didn’t slow, continuing to puff out of him as if he’d run a mile. She’d never seen him this bad.

She lowered herself to the floor next to him, not touching him, but sitting cross-legged by his side.

“I wish … you would go.” He squeezed his eyes shut. Sweat had broken out across his forehead.

She shook her head. “I won’t leave you alone like this. Can I put a hand on your back?”

After a pause, he nodded. She placed a hand between his shoulder blades, resting it there. His heart galloped under her palm.

“I need … to go home.” He made a move to stand, and she stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“Not yet. Ben, you can’t drive like this. I know you want to be in your own space. I can drive you, if you want me to. But don’t get in your car like this.”

“I hate this.” He squeezed his eyes shut.

“I know. I hate it for you.”

With her free hand, she caught his hand and laced her fingers between his. He squeezed her with surprising force, shut his eyes, and started taking deep breaths, slowing his exhales with a breathing exercise. After a minute, his heart rate slowed under her hand.

Marco chose that moment to come out of the kitchen. He stopped in his tracks when he saw them on the floor together.

“Mom? Is Ben s-sick?” he asked, his voice high with uncertainty.

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