Page 64 of Samuel

“Good. Now what can you hear?”

Her body shook in his arms, but he watched as a little line of concentration formed between her eyebrows. She snuggled her head down into his chest. “Your heartbeat.”

Fuck. He’d never been so happy to have someone listening to that.

“Good. What else can you hear?”

“Shep. He’s barking.” A smile pulled at the corner of her lips.

“Probably trying to find you,” Sam chuckled. “And what can you feel?”

His breath stilled as her fists unwound and her hands slipped onto his arms.

“You.”

“There you are. Good girl.”

Her breath was still choppy, but it was slowing, and some of the color that had drained out of her cheeks was returning.

They stayed like that, with Sam holding her and directing her breathing, for a few painfully silent moments. “I’m sorry. I don’t know…”

“How long have you had panic attacks for?” he asked as he brushed his thumb across her cheek.

“How do you know that wasn’t my first?”

Sam shrugged. “I get them, too.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. A few months ago, they just started happening and I haven’t been able to shake them.”

“If you need someone to talk to?—”

“I’m fine, Bluebell. I’m not worried about me.”

Her hand reached up and traced along his jawline. “I just guess I’ll have to be then, won’t I, Cowboy?”

“You’ve already got enough on your plate. No need to fuss over me. How long have these been happening to you?”

She shook her head. “I’ve had them since my parents died. Storms are usually the trigger, so I know to sort of tuck myself away if a bad one is going to come. I’ve never had someone around when they… when I’ve had one before. Thank you for helping me.”

He nodded. “That asshole on the phone was your former boss, right? What did he say to you before I came over?”

Her eyes danced between his, a fresh batch of tears flooding them as he watched her search for the words.

“Okay, you don’t have to tell me right now. Just breathe, Evie. Let it out and breathe.”

Sam twisted his body so his back was now against the trunk of the tree. One arm wrapped around her back, the other slid beneath her legs, before he lifted her into his arms. He sat with Evie in his lap, his hand cradling her belly.

“It’s the baby.”

Her whispered cry had his stomach bottoming out.

“Something’s wrong with the baby? Are you having more of those pains like this morning?”

“No.” Her watery laugh eased some of the worry, but not enough that his chest stopped aching. “The baby’s fine. I meant she’s the reason I’m crying. I’m so angry I could hit something, but the baby hormones are turning my anger into tears. I hate that. I hate feeling so out of control.”

“I think you’ve had a perfectly reasonable response to the things I overheard that asshole say to you.”

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