Page 59 of A Convenient Secret
Shit. I forgot about the planned fire drill. “Sorry, it’ll go off in a minute.”
I glance at my phone and, fuck—
Ripping my headphones off, I disconnect the call without any explanation and run out of my office. I skid down the stairs, almost tripping over my own feet.
The sight in front of me is heart-attack-inducing, even though I don’t understand what’s going on.
Lily is shaking on the floor, covering her ears, her entire body curled in on itself. Shards of glass glitter in the afternoon light, water pooling across the floor.
I take this in in a second, still unsure what the hell I’m looking at.
The fire alarm keeps blaring overhead. “Lily,” I yell.
No reaction. Not even a flinch. She is rocking back and forth. I want to approach her, but the scar on my arm proves she may act on instinct.
I don’t mind getting hurt, but what if she hurts herself? If she moves, she may get cut.
Fuck, I hate being useless, powerless. “Lily!” My voice is sharp, cutting through the noise, but she continues acting like she’s in the middle of a goddamn war zone.
I take a step closer, glass crunching under my soles.
I crouch, trying to catch her gaze. Fuck. My pulseskyrockets and then drops as I will myself to stop panicking and focus.
Lily’s eyes are unfocused, wild, her chest rising and falling too fast. She’s somewhere else. Not here. Not in the present.
I force my hands to stay at my sides, even though every instinct screams at me to reach for her, to shake her out of whatever Hell she’s trapped in.
“Lily,” I say again, softer this time, controlled. “You’re okay. It’s just the drill alarm. It’s not real.”
She doesn’t move, doesn’t blink. Her fingers dig into her scalp like she’s trying to claw herself out of her own head.
Instinct sharpens my focus. I need to get her out of this. I reach for her hands first, gently prying them away from her ears. The second my fingers touch her skin, she jerks violently, her breathing ragged.
“Hey, it’s me,” I say, my voice firm but steady. “You’re safe. It’s just a drill. That’s all.”
Her lips part like she wants to speak, but all that comes out is a fractured gasp. Her shoulders heave with each breath, her pupils so blown out her eyes look nearly black.
I should have turned the damn alarm off before coming down here.
“There is no fire?” she finally whispers, her voice hoarse, barely audible over the wailing siren.
“No fire. Let me turn the sound off.” But I don’t move yet. She still looks like she’s seconds from shattering into as many pieces as the glass surrounding her.
Instead, I shift. “Look at me.”
She struggles, her gaze flickering, but she does. Barely.
“Breathe with me,” I say. “In.” I exaggerate the inhaling, slow and deep, holding it for a second before letting it out in a controlled exhalation. “Now you.”
Her first attempt is shaky, uneven, but it’s something.
“Again,” I say. “Nice and slow.”
Another breath. Still choppy, but better. The shaking of her hands is less violent.
I nod, reinforcing the progress. “Good. Keep going.”
Three more breaths and she’s still tense, but she’s here. With me.
