Page 121 of Healed Hearts

He brings a hand up instantly, checking out the hot pink spread across his fingers. I would say I’m surprised he hasn’tseen it before now, but then again, maybe he has, and he doesn’t remember.

I lean in closely, lowering my voice so no one can hear but us. “Do you want to talk to Beck alone or in here?”

“Here’s fine,” he says, swallowing roughly.

“Okay. You sit on the couch and I’ll bring you some water.”

He nods, then walks to the couch and sits down in the middle beside Ro, his eyes glued to Beck and Wren on the floor.

When I get back with the water, Wren is done painting Beck’s nails and he and Roman are busy comparing and bickering about which one has the cooler nails. It looks like Ro and Julian are leaning into each other and, for the moment, things look calm. I glance down at my still bare nails, wondering if I can talk Wren into doing mine too. Purple, maybe. Then I’ll definitely have cooler nails than all of them.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Julian

Ifeel so fucked up. This is so fucked up.

Roman and Beck are arguing about their nails, meanwhile, I can’t even remember Wren painting mine. But, they’re bright pink, halfway covering my fingers too, so it’s obvious she did. Why can’t I remember? My heart starts pounding, the familiar panic that’s winding itself around my chest making it difficult to breathe.

Before I can spiral too far, Roman leans over. Just a bit. He rests his arm against mine. He doesn’t look at me or talk to me. He doesn’t even stop his sentence. It feels deliberate, though.His touch. And that single touch drags me back from the edge and my heart starts to calm.

I lean back into him a bit, allowing myself to draw comfort from the warmth of his arm where it’s resting on mine.

The couch dips beside me, and I turn my head to see Holden holding out a glass of water. “Here you go.”

For now, there are no tears, and I’m scared to talk for fear of inviting them back in, so I simply nod and take the glass from him. I’m thirsty, so thirsty. I didn’t realize how thirsty until the cool water washed over my tongue. So I tip it back, swallowing it in large gulps. It feels so good on my dry tongue that I feel tears burning my eyes.

Holden taps my leg. “Slow, okay?”

I nod, forcing myself to pull the cup from my lips and take small sips instead. It’s probably for the best since my stomach is empty and even the small amount of water I’ve had is making it feel a little sick.

Holden clears his throat. “So, what do you know about paradoxical reactions to medications?”

Beck hums thoughtfully. I’m trying hard to focus on what he’s saying, but I think I’m floating in and out because I only hear, “Why do you ask?”

Holden squeezes my leg, and I force my eyes to him. He tilts his head, a questioning look in his eyes. I think he’s worried about my reaction to Beck knowing. I couldn’t give a shit less, as long as someone can help me stop feeling this way. I look at Beck. “I think I’m having one to Xanax.”

Beck’s face softens. “Can you describe your symptoms for me?”

I almost laugh at that. How the fuck am I supposed to sum up the all-consuming dread coursing through my veins? I feel like I’m stuck in the middle of the worst panic attack I’ve ever had. I feel like someone scooped out all the things that make me who Iam and replaced them with the deepest well of sadness I’ve ever felt in my life. I clear my throat, hoping that I don’t start crying again the second I open my mouth. “You, uh… you know Wren’s mom died, right?”

Beck nods.

I swallow hard. “I feel about like I did at her funeral.”

Genuine sadness flashes in Beck’s eyes before he manages to school his reaction and slip back into detached, professional mode. “How long has it been since your last dose?”

I glance at Holden. I don’t even know what fucking time it is, let alone when my last dose was. Holden looks at his phone. “It’s been about twenty-one hours.”

“That’s good news,” Beck says.

“How?” I ask. Do I sound weak and tired to anyone else?

Roman presses harder into me, his weight grounding me. Holden gives my leg another gentle squeeze. Guess so. Beck smiles at me. “Well, Xanax has a relatively short half-life, so ideally, you’ll start feeling better within the next couple of hours. If you don’t, we’ll make a trip to the hospital, okay?” His voice is gentle and compassionate. Are all three of them just perfect fucking men? “But Julian, no more, okay? Don’t take any more. We’ll get you something else if needed.”

Holden wiggles his way into my arms as I let the relief of Beck’s words wash over me. Holden’s head rests against my chest, his leg tossed between mine. I have no idea how he’s comfortable, but there’s no way in hell I’m going to ask him to move. Not when his body is grounding me.

“I’m sorry you all have to deal with this,” I murmur, feeling slightly embarrassed.

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