Chapter 15
Sumner
I shifted on the couch and pulled the blanket higher. My hands had stopped shaking, but my body still felt heavy, and so did my mind. Sly sat a little further away, quiet, waiting for me to set the pace.
What he had done to me was immense. It shouldn’t have been a normal thing for him to just sit with me and breathe and walk me through everything.
I hated how well he knew how to deal with a panic attack, and it meant that he had them too.
He said he did, but I didn’t know if they were in the past or still occurred.
Either way, he helped me without batting an eye.
He didn’t push, didn’t ask me to explain or unpack anything.
Instead, he just sat there, present and patient, as if that alone could somehow lighten the weight pressing down on me.
And, in a way, it did. I glanced at him, grateful for the quiet comfort that didn’t demand anything in return.
For a moment, it felt safe to just be, without expectations or pressure to fill the silence with words.
My stomach growled, and it reminded me that I hadn’t eaten in two days.
“Are you hungry?” he asked, voice low. “I’ll order something. Anything at all. Soup, noodles, whatever goes down easy.”
“I could try soup.”
“Good. Any no-go foods? Allergies? Things you hate?”
In my mind, those questions were rejected and seen as abnormal, when in reality, he was only trying to figure me out. And not in a way that could hurt me. He genuinely wanted to get to know me to make everything more comfortable.
“No mushrooms,” I said. “And nothing too spicy.”
“Got it.” He pulled out his phone. “I’ll order from my favorite Japanese restaurant. They make the best soups. How about chicken noodle for you and plain rice on the side?”
“Sounds good.” I smiled gently. “What will you get?”
He shrugged and already scrolled through the menu on his screen. “Probably the same. And maybe some Yakitori.”
“Are those the chicken skewers?”
He nodded. “Want some too?”
“Yes, please.”
His eyes narrowed as he watched me closely, then he asked, “Do you like sushi?”
I loved sushi. In fact, I like pretty much anything besides mushrooms. And the more he talked about food, the hungrier I got. “Yes.”
“Good, then I’ll order sushi as well.”
He tapped through the app, then looked up and set the phone on the coffee table. Screen up. Not worried one bit if a message came in that I could see.
Joey hid everything from me, and Sly was slowly becoming an open book.
“Forty minutes, give or take. In the meantime, can I make tea?”
He was so caring, it scared me. I hated that I was such a burden to him. Even if he said I wasn’t, I still felt that way, because I always had.
“Yes.” I pointed toward the kitchen. “Mugs are in the left cabinet. Tea is in the jar by the stove.”
He moved so carefully and kept talking just enough so I didn’t feel alone. When the water was ready, he brought a mug to the table and set it by my hand. “Sip slow.”
“Thank you.”
I took a drink, let the heat help my chest relax, and watched him watch me as we just sat there.
The worst of the panic was gone, but the aftertaste sat there.
I hated that it could still hijack me like this.
I hated that I needed someone to see me like this.
I was still glad he’d come, but I hoped never to be like this around him again.
I took another sip, then set the mug down and looked at him.
During all of this, a little voice was bugging me.
It kept telling me to ask him about that one sentence he had said during his stream two nights ago.
About having met someone with gray eyes.
I hated the slight hint of jealousy inside of me, but I couldn’t think of anything else to say.
I just hoped he wouldn’t take it badly.
“Can I ask you something?”
“You can ask me anything.”
“In your stream, you said you’d met someone,” I said, keeping my voice even. “You said she had gray eyes.” I held his gaze. “Who were you talking about?”
He furrowed his brows. “You.”
I figured. But it didn’t make sense.
I pulled the sleeves of my sweater over my hands and chewed on my bottom lip. Maybe I had always been wrong about my eyes. Maybe they weren’t green. But then why would it say 'green' on my license and passport?
“But my eyes are green.”
His brows pulled tighter. “No, they’re grey…” He leaned in, but not too close, still following my rule. “I swear they’re grey.”
“No, they’re green,” I said again, feeling an amused smile tugging at my lips. “It says so on my passport.”
He watched me, trying to decide if I was messing with him. Then his eyes widened, and the same realization I’d had two nights ago registered on his face. “No fucking way. Am I colorblind?”
His expression was pure shock, and I felt bad for him. For a second, he looked genuinely worried, as if maybe he’d been complimenting the wrong person all along.
“Wait, are you sure?” he blurted, squinting at me like I might be tricking him. “Because I swear they’re—” He stopped and blinked rapidly. “Okay, just…lean into the light for a second.”
I laughed softly, tilting my face toward the lamp. He squinted harder, then pulled his own phone out and opened the camera app.
“Are you taking a picture of my eyeball?”
“Scientific evidence,” he said, dead serious. “For the record.”
“You’re ridiculous,” I laughed, looking at his phone when he lowered it. “Yes, that’s definitely green.”
“That’s grey,” he said, not sounding too convinced now.
“You know, you may be colorblind.”
He shook his head, not wanting to believe it. “Wait, do you think I am? I mean, that would explain why people at the store look at me funny when I tell them the celery looks spoiled.” He looked genuinely concerned, which only made me laugh harder.
This felt good. He was making me laugh and think about anything but the panic attacks I had in the past two days.
He groaned, rubbing his forehead. “Maybe I should get tested or something. Like, is there a colorblind quiz online?”
I giggled. “Pretty sure there is. Want to take it together?”
He hesitated, then broke into a reluctant smile. “Sure. But I still think you have the most beautiful eyes. Grey or not.”
“Thank you,” I said, my smile gentle.
It was then that I realized I needed him to stick around.
We finished eating, and I stood up to help Sly clear the table. I didn’t want him handling it all alone after he’d done so much already.
Back on the couch, I let out a long sigh, and the need to say more finally rose inside of me.
I hesitated, then asked, “Sly, can I tell you about the attacks?”
Something changed in his face, and for a second, I thought he didn’t realize how much it meant that I was choosing to talk to him.
He hadn’t owed me anything that night. He could’ve left after the accident, he could’ve kept his distance after the grocery store, but he’d stayed, never pushing or forcing me to explain, and that alone made it easier.
“Of course,” he said, and his smile was small and steady. “I’ll listen.”
“Okay.” I pressed my lips together, trying to balance the sudden rush of words, and then I started, because once I began, the sentences came easier than I expected, and I told him everything that had been heavy in my chest.
“There isn’t one thing that sets them off,” I said, looking down at my hands because it felt safer than looking at his face.
“They come out of nowhere. One hits and then another follows. Like the last two days. I’d get a few hours where I thought I was fine and then it would start again, over and over. ”
I looked at him again and saw that he wanted to say something, so I waited and let him speak.
“How many in the past two days?” he asked. His voice was soft and careful.
“Maybe five or six,” I said. “I stopped counting after three. Sometimes I can’t feel my body, and sometimes I black out if it gets bad. It’s like my body quits on me.”
Sympathy flashed in his eyes, mixed with recognition. I hated that he knew what it felt like.
“You have them too,” I said, because the look on his face said it for him.
“Used to,” he corrected quickly. “Not like that now. I learned to catch them early, slow them down. Therapy, routines, boring stuff that works.”
“That’s good. I’m glad,” I said. And I meant it. I didn’t want him to carry it the way I did. He gave a small nod and a smile, telling me to continue.
I took a breath and pushed forward. “They started because of Joey. All the yelling, the times he put his hands on me. I learned to live as if anything could set him off, and my body never unlearned it. Even now, when I know he’s gone, it still flips to danger too fast. I get scared that it will happen again. ”
He wasn’t gone gone. But he had lost his memory, and while it wasn’t nice of me to hope he would never regain his memory, it could still happen.
Sly kept his voice level. “It makes sense that you’re scared,” he said. “Your body was trained to expect harm. It takes time to teach it that the threat is gone.”
“I know,” I said. “But knowing doesn’t make the feeling stop. Sometimes I feel ashamed, like I should be past this by now. I get frustrated with myself for not being stronger.”
He shook his head. “That’s not fair to you. Strength doesn’t have a deadline, and from what I’ve seen, you’re a stronger person than most. You’re fighting, and just because you get vulnerable, doesn’t mean you don’t have the strength.”
I let that sit. “He’s not gone,” I added, because it was the truth that just didn’t stop echoing in my mind. “He doesn’t remember me now, which should feel like relief, but it’s complicated. If his memory comes back someday, if the man he was comes back too, I don’t know what I’ll do.”
He looked at me straight then, the first time tonight his face sharpened, but not in an angry way.
“You don’t have to think that far ahead tonight.
For now, we put plans in place that keep you safe.
You asked for that earlier when you asked for help.
We start there and we build. That is, if you still want me to come around. ”
I quickly nodded. “I want you to.”
“Okay,” he said, his pretty smile coming back. “We’ll take it one step at a time.”
I let the words rest between us, and for the first time since the panic had taken me down, I felt a small part of my chest stop clenching. It wasn’t gone, but it was quieter. And that was enough for tonight.