Page 100 of Charmed, I'm Sure
By the time we made it to my driveway, I had managed to calm myself, but as soon as he made that turn, my anxiety shifted from nervous flutters into a full-blown, Mother-damned T-Rex rampaging in my stomach. My lungs ached with every breath, sharp pain ripping through my sternum as my heart pounded like a drum in my chest.
“Mags, baby, what’s wrong?” There was no panic in his voice, but his wide eyes told another story as they frantically searched my face. I hadn’t even realized we’d parked until he cursed under his breath, jumped out, and threw open my door in seconds. Ripping off my seatbelt, Taylor turned me in my seat and pulled me into his arms. “Magnolia, I need you to breathe for me, okay? Just focus on my voice and try to match my breathing.”
“I—I can’t,” I managed between the needling breaths Iwas able to take.
“Baby, you’re talking, which means you’re breathing. That’s good. Just close your eyes and focus for me, okay? In…” He inhaled deeply, pressing a steadying hand down my spine to straighten my back as I mirrored him. “Out.”
I felt his exhale brush the top of my head, and with every rise and fall of his chest, my own breathing began to even out, my thundering heart slowing to a more bearable pace.
“Good. Keep going,” he whispered, his hand tracing soothing lines up and down my back.
When I was calm enough for him to let go, Taylor pulled back and tilted my face toward his. I hadn’t realized I was crying until his thumb swept across my cheeks, whisking away the tears.
Fucking panic attacks.
I hadn’t had one in about a year, but when I did, they hit with the force of a meteor crashing to Earth. If I had to have one, though, at least I was in the presence of a hot doctor. Silver linings, I guess.
“Are you alright?” he asked, his beautiful blue eyes flicking between mine now that my breathing had steadied.
“Oh, you know, just wanted to show you another facet of my amazingness.” I tried for lighthearted, but it came out more self-deprecating, and I winced when he let out a heavy sigh.
“Don’t do that. Panic attacks are no joke. I’m just glad I was here to help you regulate. Was it because you’re scared to tell them about us?”
“God, no!” I framed his face in my hands. “Taylor, no. I’m not scared to tell them about us. I’m scared to tell them that youknow. No one knows. We’ve never told anyone… well, other than others in the coven, obviously.”
Shit. I should not have said that.
Taylor’s eyes flared with interest, and I could almost see the questions forming in his mind. But something on my face must have saidnow is not the time, because he blinked them away and returned to the matter at hand.
“Do you have to tell them? Right now, I mean?”
“They have a right to know.” Even if the thought made me want to vomit, they deserved honesty. I had screwed up, and it was time to face the music.
“Well, lucky for you, it doesn’t look like anyone is home at the moment. So you’ll have at least a little time to run through all the doomsday scenarios you’re thinking of right now.”
“Wha—I am not.”
He didn’t need to say a thing—his face did it for him. Lips tugged down at the corners, brows arched, head tilted slightly. Every inch of him screamedI don’t believe you for a second.
It was infuriating. And endearing. But mostly annoying. How dare he call my bluff? It didn’t matter that he was right—I should be allowed to live in my delusional la-la land for as long as I wanted.
With a roll of his eyes and a shake of his head, Taylor scooped me into his arms and set me on the ground in front of him. “Come on, cher. You’ve got a battle plan to make, and I have a sister to appease before she does something stupid like tell my mother.”
“Sounds like we both have battle plans to make.”
Taylor linked his fingers with mine and held my gaze as he brought my knuckles to his lips again. In that moment, I finally understood all those swoon-worthy historical romance scenes, as butterflies erupted in my stomach and heat rushed to my cheeks.
“I’ll never get tired of that,” he murmured, dropping our joined hands between us.
“Of what?” I asked, cheeks burning under the intensity of his stare.
“The way your body reacts to the simplest touch.” He waggled his brows, and I was certain I now resembled a red Christmas ornament.
With a playful smack to his shoulder, I said, “Come on, cowboy. Battles to plan, victories to procure.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He punctuated his words with a mock salute, and we both laughed as he followed me toward the door.
In the hour since Taylor dropped me off, I’d panic-cleaned nearly all of the downstairs, and I had to admit—Bellevue Manor had never looked so good. The floors gleamed under the pendant lights, sconces, and chandeliers, the dust bunnies having met their untimely ends. I’d loaded and run the dishwasher, tackled two loads of laundry, and scraped all the cat hair off the stair runner. Now, my arm was killing me.
