Chapter 5 #2
I’m so close to my SUV. So close to safety. My backpack feels like it weighs a hundred pounds, and I drop it so that I can find my keys.
Instead of pulling open the door and throwing myself into the driver’s seat like I’ve been imagining for the last thirty seconds, there are hands on my chest, anchoring me in place. I stop, and it’s like I’ve hit a brick wall. I blink again, trying to see through the spots in my vision.
Chase.
I want to push him away. I want to keep limping the last few steps to safety. I want to be alone.
But he won’t let me go. His hands are pressed insistently against my upper shoulders now, holding me in place. They’re cold compared to the heat radiating off of my own body, like he’s just come off the ice.
“Please,” I manage to say, my voice cracking. I don’t know what I’m asking for.
“Listen to me. Focus on my voice.” His tone is soothing. It’s grounding me. “Inhale slowly through your nose.” I do as he commands. “Now hold the breath.” I let the air sit in my lungs until he says, “Exhale. Slowly, through your mouth.”
One of his hands reaches around and rubs circles on my sweaty back.
“O-okay,” I stammer, taking another exploratory breath. I’ll do anything right now to get some relief from the sensation that I’m drowning.
“Keep inhaling through your nose and exhaling through your mouth. While you do that, I want you to tell me five things that you can see.”
I blink. Nothing feels quite real, like I’m in some sort of simulation.
But, after my third exhale, I do realize that I can finally start to focus on what’s around me again.
“I see the sidewalk.” I’m looking down, trying not to take in too much, too soon.
I’m not composed enough to feel embarrassed about the situation.
“Good. Good,” he coaxes, his hand still rubbing along the length of my back. “What else?”
“I see a trashcan.” The campus installed them a few years ago. They have recycling and trash next to one another and automatically open when you get close to it. It’s a miracle that I remember that when I’m not even sure how my legs are holding me up.
My eye line is moving upward so that I can take in more of my surroundings. The tunnel vision is widening, even though my sight is still fuzzy around the edges.
Chase has moved sideways to me, so that my shoulder is cradled in his chest. He isn’t exactly holding me, but it wouldn’t be crazy for someone across the parking lot to think that.
“Boss round. Tell me three more things that you can see,” he murmurs, his fingertips digging into the muscles just below my shoulder blades.
“A pine tree.” They’re dotted along the edge of the parking lot, and they look a lot like the ones I have tattooed on my arms.
“Two more things,” he pushes insistently. “Don’t think you’re getting off easily.”
I’m starting to breathe normally again, and it doesn’t feel like my heart is going to beat out of my chest. “Both of our SUVs.”
I’m not looking at him, but I can see the edge of his mouth tip upward in a smile. “I’ll let you have that one. Now, tell me what you can feel. Focus on your body and centering yourself in it again.”
I tilt my face upward. “I can feel the breeze. And the sun,” I add, its warmth soaking into me. I’m grateful that it’s not making me feel like I’m in a circle of hell anymore.
“What else? You’re doing great.” I realize that Chase’s hand has stilled, and I miss how deftly he’d been massaging my back. I can’t remember the last time I’ve let someone get this close to me except for required physical therapy sessions.
But it feels… nice. Comforting. And for as much as I want to turn away from it because I don’t deserve to be helped with so much care and concern, I also don’t want him to stop.
“I can feel your hand on my back,” I say.
His fingers splay outward in response. He holds his hand still, but his fingertips press against me.
I swallow, suddenly realizing how close we’re actually standing.
His legs are astride me, anchoring me in place.
One hand is on my back and the other is against my sternum, rising and falling in tandem with my breathing.
“How’s your leg feeling?” he asks quietly. It’s not judgmental, but there is a seriousness in his voice. “You were practically running across the parking lot when I noticed you.”
When I look at him, his dark eyes are scanning my face. And then I remember what he must see, quickly followed by the realization that he holds the control to me getting back on the ice.
All the pieces are starting to click back into place, as I finally start to feel like myself again.
Which isn’t great because that means I become aware of the pain.
I hope that I didn’t fuck up my leg, but I really have no way to be sure right now.
All I know is that it hurts so goddamn badly that I shift my weight mostly to my right side to stave off the throbbing.
That's all that I can think about right now.
I swallow, trying not to let him see me wince. “It feels okay.”
He removes his hand from my back, and I miss the contact. “You need to go home and rest your leg,” he says sternly. “You could have done serious long-term damage to your recovery.”
“It’s not like I planned this,” I defend, trying to stand up straighter. I don’t like how he’s looking at me. Like I’m reckless.
He nods. “I know that you didn’t plan this. But not being realistic with yourself physically and emotionally is only going to cause issues. This is why I recommended talking to someone, Asher. Healing the mind is going to be just as important as healing the body.”
I don’t need the after school special pep talk. My good feelings toward him have evaporated, embarrassment and anger taking their place. “Like you said, I need to get home and rest my leg.”
I pick up my backpack and then open my door, exhausted and coming down from the last ten minutes. I slide into the driver’s seat as smoothly as I can manage, refusing to let Chase see the pain that it’s causing me.
Once I’m situated, he leans across the open space, boxing me in.
He’s smaller than I am but still cuts an imposing figure.
The fabric of his polo strains across his chest, and I can see a thin gold chain dangling around the hollow of his neck.
He looks down at my leg before his focus shifts along my body.
Finally, he meets my eyes. “We’ll see the damage tomorrow.
The body keeps the score, even if you don’t want to acknowledge it. ”
I purse my lips together, choosing not to respond. Something about the way he looks at me makes me feel like he knows every secret that I’ve ever wanted to keep hidden. If I did say something, it’d be to tell him that I don’t envy that he has to deal with me. I don’t want to deal with me either.
Accepting my silence, he nods and backs away from my SUV. “Tomorrow.”