Page 151 of Catch Me
“I’ve got you, baby,” Andreas calmly whispers in my ear. “I’ve got you.”
He lifts me into his arms, cradling me as he carries me somewhere. He lowers himself to a bench with me in his lap.
“I-I-I—”I’m sorry for doing this on your night.
I can’t get the words out because I can barely breathe.
“I’m here as long as you need,” he says, his voice so calm and controlled. It’s reliable. My anchor in the midst of my sea of panic.
“Don’t fight it,” he says.
“Don’t fight it.”
His words echo Dr. King’s.
I can’t fight a panic attack. I just have to let it run its course once it’s here. Which is probably what my brain has been telling me all along.
Cool air brushes against my face.
Andreas fans me. I close my eyes and search for the feeling of relief from the air against my skin. I don’t tell myself to breathe normally or try to slow my heartbeat.
In time, it happens though. My body begins to regulate itself.
“It will end. They always end.”
More words from Dr. King that I’d forgotten.
She wasn’t wrong. This panic attack eventually ends, though leaving me weak and fragile.
“I-I’m better now.” My voice comes out in a hoarse whisper, but Andreas hears me.
“Drink this.” He passes me a bottle of water.
I take tentative sips, and we sit in silence for a while with him watching me, and me unable to look at him.
You ruined his night.
That’s all I can think about. Tonight is supposed to belong to Andreas, but instead of being downstairs celebrating with everyone else who worked so hard on the film, he’s comforting me.
“I’m okay now. You can return to the celebration,” I lie through a wobbly smile.
“I know your every facial expression,” he tells me.
My gaze drops away from his.
I don’t want him to see the truth in my eyes right now. I don’t want Andreas to know how weak and shaky I am. Or the fact that I’m still just barely holding it together.
All I want is to climb into my bed and pull the blankets over my head for a few hours.
“The car is waiting at the back entrance for us.” He stands and holds out his hand for me.
“Y-You don’t have t-to leave.” I flinch at the shakiness in my voice.
“I’m not leaving you tonight, Ivy.” He continues to hold out his hand for me. “We can wait up here longer if you’re not ready to stand.”
Why does his kindness make the ache in my heart worse?
Right now, I’m way too weak to fight him, though I know he should remain here with his work colleagues.
