Page 126 of Love Me Steadfast
Air whooshes in and out of my lungs but I try to slow it down. My fingers cramp around fistfuls of his T-shirt but I can’t let go.
“I’ve got you,” Will says. “Just breathe.”
“I’m sorry,” I say as tears spill down my cheeks.
“None of that, okay?” Will scolds. “Right now you’re just gonna breathe for me.”
I center all of my attention on the slow draw of oxygen filling my lungs, and the soft release as it leaves.
“Think of that day in the meadow,” Will says in my ear, his voice steady and kind. “The sun is warm on your face. It’s just you and me, blackbird, lying on the quilt, looking up at the blue sky.”
Memories of us tumble through my still jittery mind. I try to catch them, let them pull me into the light.
Will strokes my hair. “It’s an absolutely perfect summer day. Thesound of the river carries across the grass, and the air smells like honey.”
My skin warms as I remember us. How easy it was to love him. Care for him. Promise him nothing would ever keep us apart. “I’m sorry.” Another sob breaks from deep inside me.
“No apologies, baby.” He strokes down my back. “Breathe. Nice and slow for me.”
I try to remember the sun’s heat on my skin as we lay on the quilt, talking about everything and nothing, our fingers intertwined, kissing, laughing.
“That’s it,” Will praises as I coax in a full breath.
By the time the cool buzzing under my skin has melted back and my breathing has evened out, exhaustion ebbs in my muscles, like I’ve climbed a mountain.
Will presses a kiss to the top of my head. “We can find someone else,” he says in a low tone.
I’m too tired to reply. And though I’m not shaking anymore, the pain in my mouth is making it hard to think.
Joe shuffles through the doorway, his eyes kind, mask dangling from one ear. He pulls the stool under him and sits, though he stays near my knees. “Have you had dental trauma in the past?”
I swallow and turn my focus to the panoramic shot of the Bitterroots. At the jagged ridge washed in copper from the setting sun. “No.”
William rubs my hand. In the reflection off the glass, I watch his brows knit together in worry.
Joe nods. “I’ve had plenty of patients with anxiety. It’s not uncommon. Even if you’ve never had a bad experience with a dentist, any kind of past trauma can still make lying down in this chair while a stranger looms over you a hard sell. Add in how much pain you’re in, and it’s no wonder your fight or flight got triggered.”
Fight or flight. He’s talking about PTSD. I close my eyes and swallow.
“Not to worry, though,” Joe says with a kind smile. “We’ve got some options. Ready to hear them?”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
WILLIAM
I wakewith my heart thumping, and for an instant, I think I’m at work with the tones going off. But I’m in my bed, with Charlotte’s back nestled against my chest and my arm wrapped around her. My clock reads just after four a.m. and though I long to stay here with her, the restlessness I managed to put aside last night quickly ramps up.
What caused Charlotte to react like that? Yesterday wasn’t the time to coax her to open up, but it’s weighing on me. I don’t want her to suffer like that ever again.
I stroke down Charlotte’s arm and pull her a little closer to me while my mind drifts back to the break-in. Does Zach’s team have any leads yet? That one of the missing record books is tied to Dagney Cole has been bugging me. Could someone be trying to cover their tracks? It makes me think that Ballard’s working much more than some hunch. He left me a voicemail yesterday but I was too busy taking care of Charlotte to call him back. I need to get him that intel.
After easing out of bed so I don’t wake Charlotte, I dress in a pair of sweats and a hoody, then pad to the kitchen and stoke the wood stove. Ollie scarfs her breakfast, and while the coffee brews, I let heroutside. The early morning air is crisp, and a harvest moon hangs low in the sky, a reminder that summer’s long gone.
When are Charlotte’s auditions? She said next month, and yesterday was October first. Time is running out.
After Ollie returns, I dry her paws then grab a cup of coffee, unpack my laptop, and slide on my reading glasses. Though I’m eager to get started on the data Luke’s asked for, I skim my inbox first. Oscar’s sent me some menu ideas, Mike’s completed his inventory, and I have a new hostess starting today. There’s a message from someone named Steve Pax at Now Live Entertainment regarding my VIP passes to a show at Creekside tonight. The message is addressed to Ray, so I flag it to follow up later. It’s not the first email like it. Why didn’t Ray bother to tell anyone about the change in The Limelight’s ownership before he dropped off the face of the earth?
Finally, I turn my attention to the booking software. I may not have been the best student, but thanks to a geology grad student TA my sophomore year, I’m not completely inept when it comes to using spreadsheets. After downloading all the records, I categorize everything by year. Then I grab the relevant staffing records and add as much detail as I can scrape together, though Ray’s system is a haphazard mess, so it’s not easy or fast. I do a simple search for duplicate names, just to see if there are any obvious results I could share with Luke, but the list is surprisingly long. If only I could cross reference with the records from Creekside, but I’m sure Luke has that covered. So I send him copies of everything in an email with a note about the break-in, making sure to highlight my find regarding Dagney Cole.
