Page 180 of Scattered Glitter

I hesitate, staring at the Bronco as though it’s a trap, a ticking time bomb with a countdown that will begin the moment I get inside. Instinctively, my gaze flicks to Koen, like my body knows that’s where the strength is. Koen’s eyebrow twitches as he faintly smiles, daring me to back out but already knows I won’t.

No way.

I steel myself, pull open the door, and slide into the seat before I can change my mind.

He gets in, and the interior is quiet except for the faint creak of the leather seats. I stare straight ahead, gripping my knees as he starts the engine, the rumble vibrating under my feet. I try to imagine I’m in the club, on stage, like any normal night. The Bronco smells of leather and something distinctly Koen—a hint of vanilla and spices, which is great and terrible because it instantly breaks the feeble illusion.

“All right.” He glances over at me. “How do you want to do this?”

“Can’t you put me in a trance again?” I ask through gritted teeth, keeping my gaze fixed on the windshield. “Make me not freak out?”

“I’d need to be there to actively keep you in a trance. And then what? You’d be slumped in the seat next to him the whole time? I don’t think that would go over well.”

“You can hypnotize me, take away the fear, right? People do that all the time for flight anxiety and stuff.”

“I already told you. It doesn’t work like that. It’s not magic. Trauma, especially something this big, is buried so deep in your subconscious that it would take weeks, maybe months, of work to make things even a little better. I can help you breathe through it, show you some ways to manageit. If I could snap my fingers and take it all away, don’t you think I would have done that by now?”

I exhale, my shoulders slumping. “Fine. So, what then?”

“We’ll start slow.” He reaches over to lightly rest his hand on my knee. “Just take a few breaths with me.”

His touch is warm, solid, like an anchor in the middle of this swirling panic. I close my eyes, focusing on the steady rhythm of my breathing.

“Good,” he murmurs after a few minutes, likely sensing that my heart rate has slowed back down to normal. “Now, open your eyes.”

I do, and he’s closer now, so close that I can see the golden specks in his brown eyes. His hand lingers on mine, grounding me, keeping me from floating away. I let myself lean into it, feeling the warmth of his palm seep through my skin.

“This is all you need to focus on,” he says softly. “The moment. Not what’s coming next, not what happened before. Just… now.”

“How do you know how to do this?” I ask, curious.

He smiles, something a little distant flickering in his eyes. “Oscar taught me. I used to get nervous before shows, so he showed me how to breathe myself calm.” His smile fades into something more thoughtful. “I still do it. Every time. When everything else feels like it might fall apart.”

“So, youarea Zen master.”

“Only when you need me to be.” He shrugs, a teasing glint returning to his eyes. “Ready now?”

“Yeah,” I murmur. “Just drive already.”

Koen chuckles, but he shifts back, his hand sliding away, the sudden loss leaving behind a much bigger void than I anticipated. He pulls out of the parking lot and eases the rumbling Bronco down the darkened streets, and I focus onthe steady rhythm of the tires on the pavement, on the way the city lights blur past.

The dispelled tensions creep back in when he picks up speed, and I dig my fingers into the seat. My breaths come quicker, the space in the car growing smaller.

“Hey,hey. You’re all right. Just breathe. Look at me.”

I can’t. The pressure in my chest grows heavier, pushing everything out until all that’s left is panic and the dizzying sound of my pulse thrumming in my ears. I’m trapped, sinking under the weight of it, and it’s as if no amount of words can pull me back up.

There’s a low curse, and the next thing I know, we’re stopped in a parking lot. My door opens, and Koen crouches to my level. The soft click of his fingers snapping in front of me brings me back enough to see his eyes, a flicker of concern slipping past his usual calm demeanor.

“Look at me.” He reaches for my chin and tilts my head toward him. I can’t look away now, and I’m not sure I even want to, as his eyes snare me, pulling me back. His thumb strokes a path across my cheek. “You’re safe,” he whispers, his eyes steady on mine. “Nothing’s going to happen. I’ve got you.”

I want to believe him, but it’s not enough to bring me back completely, not yet. I close my eyes, struggling to calm my breathing, but I still feel trapped on the edge of the moment before the crash, unable to escape.

“Take two sharp inhales and a long exhale,” Koen instructs. “It’s the fastest way to regulate the nervous system during stress.”

His fingers move from my jaw to trail down to the back of my neck. When I don’t immediately do as he asks, I feel him enter my space, then his warm breath fans across my cheek. He nips at my earlobe, and my eyes fly open at thesharp, unexpected sensation, snapping me quickly back to the present.

“You’re safe,” he repeats in my ear, a soothing rasp against my skin. “Nothing’s going to hurt you.”

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