Page 93 of Veil of Death and Shadow

As if he’d been anything other than perfect in this situation.

That just rattled me further, adding a hefty dosage of guilt to the embarrassment already sinking like an anchor into the pit of my stomach.

“Sometimes—I just don’t like being held like that is all,” I said, my voice hollow and strange as I fought off the final vestiges of the panic attack. “I don’t like being constrained. I should have said something earlier. I’m sorry. It’s hard to know when my body will react like . . . that.”

“Don’t apologize.” He studied me with a still kind of focus that made my skin prickle. “I should have checked in before grabbing you like that. I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

An awkward, heavy silence fell over us, and I couldn’t bring myself to shake it, to meet his stare and brush this off, to get back to his demonstration.

Sometimes this was my least favorite part of the panic attacks. The aftermath. The actual wave itself had been brief, relatively speaking, but now I felt like an intruder on the scene, all traces of the ease between us before now long gone.

My body no longer felt like mine, like I’d stretched someone else’s skin over my bones and tried to pass it off.

I felt the familiar numbness settle over me, until the unease and embarrassment faded into a cool nothing. This was a regular part of the programming—like my body could tell when my emotions were bouncing around like a ping pong ball, impossible to control or predict. Instead, they would just sort of shut off altogether, the plug pooled from the wall until the fancy lights and loud sounds bled into a quiet, merciful nothing.

As if sensing my absolute stuckness, Levi walked over to the base of a large tree, where we’d parked our stuff earlier.

He shuffled through his bag and presented me with a water bottle.

I took a deep breath, closed the distance between us, and grabbed the bottle, draining half of it in one gulp. The water wasstill cold, and I focused on the startling sensation as it carved an icy path through my body, my brain still hyper alert and working in overdrive. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” He offered a small smile, then shuffled through his bag again. “I made us some sandwiches too. Probably as good a time as any for a break. Didn’t realize how long we’d been at it. I tend to get a bit distracted when I’m training—I shouldn’t have pushed you so hard.”

I shook my head, brushing off his apology.

He pulled a thin, checkered, black and white blanket out and, with a flourish, spread it evenly at our feet.

I stood there, unmoving, as he produced a pair of sandwiches wrapped in cling wrap, a container of grapes, and a bar of chocolate.

“Did you bring a picnic?” I asked, stunned momentarily out of my daze at the sight.

His shoulder blades shifted as he crawled over the blanket, smoothing the corners down. He froze, turning back to me. “I uh—hope that’s okay? You don’t have to eat any of it,” he added, as if I might be concerned he was like Ace and attempting to drug me. “I’m just always starving after a workout and if I don’t eat, I turn into an asshole.”

My mouth opened as I tried to find words. No one had ever made me picnic before. It was an oddly thoughtful gesture, and absolutelynotpart of our deal.

Still, while I wasn’t exactly hungry, I knew that food usually helped me settle back into my body when I got like this. Closing my mouth, I nodded, then took a seat next to him, far enough away that we weren’t touching, so that my ass ended up half on the blanket and half on the prickly grass.

He handed me a sandwich before quickly unwrapping his, looking uncharacteristically shy and uncomfortable as he took the first bite and chewed.

I watched him swallow, staring at the smooth column of his neck.

Catching my stare, he shrugged, misinterpreting my hawkishness. “It’s nothing fancy. I’m not really a cook. You can stick to the grapes and chocolate if it’s not good. Promise,” he made an x over his chest, “no hurt feelings.”

“No, this is good. Thank you.” My fingers, still a little stiff and trembling, fumbled their way through unwrapping the sandwich.

Relaxing a little, he popped the lid off the grapes and nudged a second bottle of water towards me, as if he could sense how parched I was.

My mouth always got excessively dry whenever my anxiety spiked like that.

We ate in silence for a few minutes, neither of us sure what to say.

I made my way through half of the sandwich, not even tasting it, lost in my thoughts. The grapes went down a little easier—the cool, crisp juice of each bite was harder not to notice.

When he was done with his sandwich, Levi leaned back against the trunk of the tree, eyes closed.

The park was particularly peaceful right now. The lake sparkled a few feet to the north of us, and except for the occasional runner or dog-walker on the trail that circled it, we were mostly alone.

I was oddly annoyed with my body and brain for throwing a wrench into such a beautiful day. There wouldn’t be many more before Seattle’s winter season left the days dark and gray, the promise of rain on every forecast.

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