Page 24 of Dahlia Made A List

“Dahlia, look at me.”

I heard Wyatt. The demand in his voice. And I wanted to look at him, see the brown of his eyes, suck up whatever confidence and strength I could from his steady presence. But I couldn’t look away from the danger of the approaching car. My pulse ricocheted as it came closer and closer, my stomach tossing as though on the downward terror of an out of control roller coaster. Visions of Jaelynn and her gran flashed in my mind, the whirl of being hit and spun into a telephone pole, the weird, fuzzy soundlessness when bystanders pulled me from the wrecked car. Waking in the cold isolation of the hospital.

I couldn’t look at Wyatt. All I could do was stare, and squeeze the hell out of the steering wheel. Air whistled between my lips, jerky and useless, my lungs too tight.

“Breathe, Dahlia. Breathe with me.” The heavy, warm weight of his hand landed on my thigh, burning through the denim of my jeans to the flesh beneath. Heat filtered out from the place where his palm rested on my leg, a soft wave at first coasting over me but quickly burning deeper.

Someone tapped against the driver’s side window, the sound sudden and harsh, but my muscles refused to obey. I felt Wyatt move beside me, his hand tightening on my thigh, grounding me as the panic slowly untethered. I was easing back from the terrifying edge, but turning my head felt like an insurmountable task, releasing my death grip on the steering wheel unfathomable.

Wyatt reached across me and rolled the window down. “Not now, Wes. We’ll be out of the way in a minute.”

“You guys are blocking the road, Wyatt. You can’t just sit in the middle of the lane holding up traffic for no reason.”

The voice outside the window penetrated and a new kind of heat filled me. I flushed, shamed that this stranger and Wyatt witnessed my stupid dramatics. I mean, what grown woman couldn’t drive down the street? Why did the simple sight of an oncoming car paralyze me?

My rational, kinder self knew I had no control over the panic attack. When they happened was not something I could control, any more than I could plan the weather or the color of sunshine.

But that didn’t stop my eyes from misting up. Didn’t soothe the painful strain in my chest, as though I’d overworked the muscles when the stupid things seemed to have a mind of their own.

“Wes, back off and give us a sec.”

The edge in Wyatt’s voice raised the hackles along the back of my neck, despite understanding his menacing growl wasn’t meant for me. He leaned into my space, but addressed the uniformed man standing outside my window. But his touch, his voice, the inescapable heat of his nearness penetrated my muddled senses. The stiffness eased from my muscles, the tension melting away and I sucked in my first full breath since losing it to the oncoming car. I didn’t look out the front windshield, and instead stared a hole into the bright gold firebird emblazoned on the center of the steering wheel

“Ma’am, I’m going to need to see your license. And registration.”

“For fuck’s sake, Wes, I fuckin’ told you to back off. I get out of this car, we’re both gonna be sorry.”

I dropped my hand from the wheel to fall atop Wyatt’s. I curled my fingers between his, closed my eyes and breathed in his smokey scent. Images of bonfires, wooded paths and pine needles filled my mind. Welcome images that smothered the memory of Jae’s head slumped over the dash, of the flashing ambulance lights, the austere emptiness of a hospital room.

I breathed in his scent and clutched his hand with my clammy one and let the wet in my eyes fall. Swallowing down the last of the panic, I turned my face toward Wyatt and opened my eyes.

“I don’t think I can drive anymore today.” I meant to sound flippant and lighten the mood. But my voice came out raspy, a wavering sound hanging heavy in the space between us.

The muscle just below his temple bulged and flattened, bulged and flattened, over and over as though he couldn’t quite tame his temper. Intense brown eyes stared out at me, sharpened by gold flecks I’d never noticed before. His lips, lips that revealed more than his words, pulled flat. I wanted to smooth my thumb over the corner of his mouth, tease out the little bracket he’d have with a half-smile. The sort of smile that let me know I amused him. That he liked me.

But I’d lost the strength to lift my arm.

“Ma’am, if you are not able to operate this vehicle, I’m going to need you to step out.”

Wyatt jerked his hand from under mine, shoved out the passenger door with a guttural curse, and stalked around to face the police officer.

“I fuckin’ told you, Wes—”

The uniformed man scrambled back, nearly tripping over his own feet, to escape Wyatt. I’d never seen Wyatt move with such intensity. He covered the road between them in a heartbeat, his hands curling into fists as though it was all he could do not to wrap them around Wes’s throat.

“Now, Wyatt, I’m an officer of the law! You need to—”

“Lot of things I need right now. You in my face is not one of them.”

“It is my civic duty to manage the protection and safety of—”

“You know me?”

The officer stiffened, hauling his belt to settle with a clack under his protruding belly. “I know who you are, Weston. And gotta say, not like you to pull the name card.”

“Not what’s happening here. You know me, you know I’m not a threat to the ‘protection and safety’ of Weston Mill. So take your bullshit, get back in your cruiser, and let me handle my business.”

“You can’t block the road. And she doesn’t look like she’s in any shape to drive.”

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