Page 16 of Ruined Vows

“Um. I can give you some literature and a website that tells you how to help when someone goes into a panic attack. Mainly, it’s just staying calm and helping them focus on breathing. But you don’t need to worry. I handle them fine by myself. I know what to do.”

“I’m not going to leave you alone if you’re having a panic attack. Give me the stuff to read. I want to learn. I’m good at staying calm in a tense situation.”

He’s looking me in the eye as he says it, and his calm manner cutting through the schoolyard bullshit he usually gives me shows he’s telling the truth.

“You really can just turn it on and off like that, can’t you? God, that’s infuriating.”

He laughs. “What’s that, Red?”

It’s infuriating that he can be so calm when I walk around, driven by this chittering, unwieldy energy that keeps me on pins and needles all the time. Not that I’m going to tell him that.

“Never mind,” I mutter. “Enough with the interrogation. I’m exhausted. It’s time for bed.”

“Why didn’t you say so?” He runs and leaps onto the bed, upsetting the neat wall of pillows I lined down the center. He haphazardly pulls the sheets over himself and puts his hands behind his head, making his gigantic biceps flex. Then he breathes out with a loud, relaxed noise. “That’s what I’m talking about. Much better than my futon at home.”

“Ugh,” is all I can growl in frustration before stomping off to the bathroom. I let the door slam, but I can still hear his chuckles echoing after me.

FIVE

ISAAK

I wakeup in the middle of the night breathing hard, sweat pouring down my head, and I know that,fuck, I’ve had another nightmare.

I can’t remember the dream this time, but the scents of burnt rubber, smoke, dust, and blood are familiar in my nose. In my head. And the ringing noise that’s the loudest thing you’ve ever heard but sounds like total silence all at the same time. Until the screams start to filter in. Even though I can’t remember the dream, the images still start to pour in.

So much choking... and the first thing I saw once the dust settled was the blood. So much fucking blood?—

I go to jackknife up when I feel pressure on my chest and realize—oh shit. I’m not alone. It takes my still-scrambling brain to figure out where the hell I am.

I never stay over at a woman’s house after we fuck.

But right. Right.

The new job.

Kira. The stalker. The fucked up scene we found in her house last night.

I’m in a hotel room with Kira. And not just in a hotelroom.

I’m in a hotelbedwith Kira.

Naturally, her side of the bed is empty.

She’s currently curled up in my arms, half on top of me, her wild red hair fanned out across my chest. She’s sleeping as peacefully as a kitten. Snoring, actually.

Little adorable snorting snores.

She feels good there. Real good, actually. Too good.

Me and women, we don’t generally get to the snuggling part. I don’t choose that kind of gal on purpose.

I don’t need to inflict my shit on a good woman. So I just take mutual urges out on ladies who are just as fucked up as me. Women with low expectations, who don’t mind when you put your belt back on almost as soon as your boots are done knockin’.

But Kira’s not that kinda woman. You take one look at her fancy bag and know that.

Not to mention, she’s my fuckingclient,and I can’t do anything to fuck up this business I’m trying to get off the ground.

I’ve been drifting on the wind for a goddamn decade, and I’m finally trying to really plant myself somewhere. To grow something real. Something solid. If I screw it up by fucking my first client, then I’m gonna stay nothing for the rest of my life.

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