Page 17 of Knot So Fast
"There you go," Luke murmurs, pulling me into his arms and rubbing soothing circles on my back. "Just keep breathing. Follow my rhythm."
I do as he says, matching my breathing to his until the world stops spinning and my heart rate returns to something resembling normal.
Luke has always been good at this—talking me down from the anxiety attacks that hit without warning, usually triggered by anything that reminds me too much of the accident.
My phone starts ringing from across the room, the shrill sound making me flinch.
"Fuck," I curse, my voice hoarse from the panic attack. "It's probably Wolf. My gaming friend."
Luke just nods, understanding without needing an explanation. He scoops me up like I weigh nothing and deposits me gently on the couch before retrieving my phone and the voice modulator I use for gaming.
My hands are still trembling as I turn on the device, but by the time I manage to answer, the call has already dropped. Before I can feel too disappointed, it rings again.
"Hello?" I answer, my voice artificially altered by the technology.
"Sugar, thank god," Wolf's voice comes through immediately, tight with worry. "Are you okay? You just disappeared, and those assholes were being absolute cunts about it."
"Yeah," I say, though I'm still out of breath. "I'm fine. I just... uh... needed to pee."
Luke gives me the most unimpressed look I've ever seen, eyebrows raised so high they're practically touching his hairline.
I roll my eyes and shrug at him before continuing.
"Actually, you know what? I had explosive diarrhea. Really takes the life out of you, you know? Couldn't exactly explain that to a bunch of cocky guys who think Omegas are just for fucking."
Wolf makes a sound that might be laughter, but there's still concern underneath it.
"I suppose that's... understandable. But are you sure you're alright? You sounded pretty shaken up when you left."
Even with the voice distinguisher, he doesn't sound like he's buying my excuse.
There's an intelligence in his tone that suggests he knows there's more to the story than digestive issues.
"I'm just tired," I admit, because that much is true. "Haven't taken my anxiety meds today, and all that bullshit from those idiots just got to me more than usual. I think I'm going to head to bed early tonight."
"Same time next week?" he asks, but there's something different in his voice.Hesitant, maybe.
"Of course," I say, trying to inject some enthusiasm into my tone. "Same time next—wait, did you say you'll be touring soon? That's exciting! Best of luck with whatever auditions you need to do."
I've always assumed he's some kind of musician or performer, maybe a rockstar wannabe who races virtually to blow off steam between gigs.
It would explain the mysterious schedule and the way he sometimes disappears for weeks at a time.
"Thanks," he says, and I can hear the smile in his voice. "I appreciate the support. But listen, if you need me—for anything—I'm just a text away, okay?"
The sincerity in his voice makes my chest warm in a way that has nothing to do with anxiety or panic attacks.
"Alright, I'll text you so you don't get lonely while you're off being a rockstar."
He laughs, and the sound is genuinely amused.
"I'd like that. Sweet dreams, Sugar."
"I'll try," I say softly. "Good night, Wolf."
I hang up and stare at the phone for a moment, a smile tugging at my lips despite everything that just happened.
My heart is still racing, but now it's for an entirely different reason.
