Page 38 of The Dating Coach
"Started sophomore year after a panic attack before a crucial game." He stopped the recording. "Turns out, tellingyourself you're capable when you're calm makes it easier to believe when you're not."
"A panic attack?" I stared at him. "But you're always so..."
"Confident? Put together? That's practice, Gemma. And a lot of therapy." He smiled ruefully. "Want to try it? Record what you'd tell yourself if you were calm?"
"That's..." I wanted to say stupid, but the earnestness in his expression stopped me. "Okay. What do I say?"
"Whatever you need to hear. Pretend you're talking to Mia before a big race. What would you tell her?"
I thought about it, then held out my hand for his phone. He opened a new recording, and I took a breath.
"You know this material," I said, feeling silly but pushing through. "You've worked harder than anyone. One test doesn't determine your worth. You're going to be an amazing doctor whether this goes perfectly or not. But it will go perfectly, because you're prepared and you're capable and you don't give up. Ever."
I stopped the recording, face burning. "That was ridiculous."
"That was perfect," Liam said softly. "I’ll send it to you. Play it whenever the anxiety hits. Remember that you believe in yourself, even when fear tries to convince you otherwise."
Our eyes met, and for a moment, the careful distance we'd maintained threatened to collapse. I could see it all in his eyes—the gala, the kiss, the words we'd both been avoiding for weeks.
My phone rang, shattering the moment. Karen's name flashed on the screen.
"Hey," I answered. "What's—"
"Don't panic," Karen said, which immediately made me panic. "But Mia never showed up at school. They just called asking where she is."
The world tilted. I was on my feet before conscious thought, gathering my things with shaking hands. "What do you mean she never showed up? Frank drove her this morning—"
"Frank dropped her at the front entrance like always. But she never made it to first period."
Every worst-case scenario flooded my mind. Our parents finding her. Mia hurt or scared or—
"I've got my keys," Liam said, already moving. "We'll find her."
I hadn't even realized he'd heard, but I was too panicked to question his use of 'we.' We ran for his car, my mind racing through possibilities. Had someone from home seen her? Had our parents somehow tracked her down? Was she hurt? The not knowing made me want to scream.
"Henry's checking the library," Liam said, phone pressed to his ear as he drove. "Frank's heading back to the school to retrace her route."
"What if—" I couldn't finish the thought.
"We'll find her," he said firmly. "She's smart, Gemma. If something scared her, she'd go somewhere safe."
Somewhere safe. I forced myself to think like my sister. Where would Mia go if she was scared? Not the apartment – too obvious. Not the pool – too public.
“The LGBTQ+ center on our college campus,” I said suddenly. “She mentioned wanting to check it out but felt too nervous to go alone.”
Liam was already changing direction, taking corners fast enough to make me grip the door handle. The ten-minute drive felt like hours, my imagination conjuring increasingly terrible scenarios.
The Rainbow Resource Center sat in a converted house on the edge of campus, pride flags visible from the street. I was out of the car before Liam fully stopped, racing up the front steps.
The reception area was warm and welcoming, covered in affirmational posters and event flyers. A woman with kind eyes and silver-streaked hair looked up from the desk.
"I'm looking for my sister," I said breathlessly. "Mia Spears. About five-four, probably crying—"
“You must be Gemma,” the woman—her nametag reading Dr. Sarah—said gently. “Mia’s here and safe. She had a panic attack after seeing someone who looked like your father. She came running here about an hour ago.”
Relief hit me so hard my knees almost buckled. Liam's hand on my back steadied me as Dr. Sarah led us to a quiet room in the back.
Mia sat curled in an oversized armchair, clutching a mug of what smelled like chamomile tea. Her face was blotchy from crying, but she was whole and safe and here.
