Chapter 25
Tai
I stare at the coffee and bag at my feet, glancing back and forth down the hallway before picking them up. Blueberry muffins this morning. I march over and bang on his door.
“Yes?” Connor calls from inside his room.
“Take your breakfast back. I don’t want it.”
“Last night you told me you’d throw it at me,” he says.
I scoff. “So you did it anyway?”
“I did, yes,” he admits quietly, sounding almost sheepish. “I just… I know you haven’t been eating enough. I’m sorry if it came across as pushy.”
Something potent squeezes in my chest. “What do you mean by that?”
Connor is quiet again for a few seconds where my breath feels loud in my ears. “You’ve lost weight,” he finally says.
“And you think you’re going to fix me one fucking muffin at a time?”
“I’m not trying to fix you, Tai. I’m trying to…” He trails off.
“Oh, go on,” I drawl. “Tell me what you’re trying to do.”
“Fix us.”
My pulse knocks in my throat as I stare at the bag in my hands. “By hiding in your room?”
He’s quiet for a longer pause before a frustrated sigh escapes from behind the door. “Yeah, that’s one way to look at it. I’ve already taken my shower for the morning, so I was trying to avoid a repeat of yesterday.”
Something an awful lot like disappointment flares in my stomach as I stand there in indecision. It seems like a waste to leave it on the floor.
“It’s just a gift,” he says, his tone infinitely gentle and a little uncertain. “Nothing more. I promise.”
I scoff. “A bribe, you mean.”
A quiet, thoughtful hum barely reaches my ears. “Perhaps… I can see how it might look that way.”
“What are you bribing me for?”
“I want you to talk to me.”
“Fuck you,” I say, but the words come out weak.
“You’re talking to me now,” he points out. “If I open the door, will you come in and have a civil conversation?”
“I can’t promise that.”
He falls silent for a moment, and I shuffle uncomfortably from foot to foot. “What are my chances of coming away from this clean?”
“Fifty-fifty.”
He laughs in a low, rumbling chuckle. “I miss you,” he says after a few beats of silence.
I recoil, my anger reignited. “You don’t get to say that. You lied to me.”
“I could fill a book with the things I did wrong, sweetheart, but I didn’t lie to you.”
“You were fucking married.”
There’s a beat of silence before he says, “I never misled you about that,” and he actually has the balls to sound confused.
“Bullshit!” I glare at the peephole. “Why don’t you ask Beth for her opinion about that?”
The door swings open before I can react. His handsome face and bright, concerned eyes momentarily silence me, so I drop my gaze. Now I’m staring at his broad chest, which doesn’t help.
“What does that mean?” he demands.
I say nothing.
“Tai, what are you talking about?” He reaches for me and then hesitates, letting his hand fall limply at his side. I hate myself for the disappointment that settles inside me.
“Never mind,” I mutter, turning and walking to my room, but his hand flies out and blocks my door.
“Move,” I snarl.
“Tai—”
“I said, move.”
He stares at me for a long time, but finally nods, retreating a step as I slam the door.
My back falls against it as my breath comes in jagged, uneven inhales that do very little to fill my lungs.
There’s a soft thud against the other side.
I close my eyes and imagine he’s leaning against it, just as confused as me.
Inches away, but somehow worlds apart.
Dark clouds pepper the sky as we drive to the airport, and nerves jitter in my belly.
I hate everything about flying, and when you factor in ten hours soaring above an infinite ocean, it becomes straight torture.
Jenn smiles and greets everyone as we drop our luggage to be stowed, and while her calm confidence helps, it doesn’t make the anxiety go away.
Connor helps the flight crew load, and I pause to watch him. He’s wearing a plain hunter-green shirt that complements his sun-kissed skin and makes his eyes pop. His clothes on the tour are tame next to the quirky ones he wore at the resort, and I ruefully admit I miss the Bigfoot shirt.
He shifts my direction, so I turn away before he catches me staring.
The jet is fuller now than on our other flights.
Eric and Dmitri have claimed spots in one cluster of seats with Bruce and Aaron, while Theo, Dante, and Monica have settled in another.
Theo catches my attention and gestures to the seat across from him.
I sit, watching Connor climb on board from the corner of my eye.
He glances around for a minute, his gaze inevitably fixating on me as it always does, before he makes his way to the vacant group of chairs and settles in next to the window. His forehead rests against the side of the plane as he stares outside, watching the crew prepare for takeoff.
The engines rumble beneath us, and the runway becomes a blur. My stomach lurches and I grip the armrests in a futile attempt to find control. It won’t stop a crashing plane, but it makes me feel better. Once we’re in the air, my nerves settle, though they never disappear completely.
Theo breaks out the cards, and we play several rounds of Texas Hold’em. Despite his frequent suggestions, we do not turn it into strip poker, although he still wins almost every round. After a few games, he tucks the deck into his bag.
“I’m pretty sure Jugs has a crush on you,” he says out of nowhere, as casually as though he’s discussing the weather.
I do a double take that’s probably comical, my mouth sagging open. “Why in the world would you think that?”
Theo shrugs, glancing past me toward where Connor sits.
“He stares at you a lot. And honestly? That sexual tension between you two is off the charts. Could cut that shit with a chainsaw and it still wouldn’t split.
I notice everything,” he says with a pointed look.
“I’ve seen the two of you getting cozy from time to time. ”
“You’ve been reading too many of your romance books, Theo. He’s straight.”
“Spaghetti is straight until it gets wet,” he snaps back. “Wood warps when it’s hot enough. I’m sure I can come up with more examples if I need to keep going.”
“Please don’t,” I plead with a huff.
Dante leans into our conversation. “Do I want to ask what we’re discussing that’s wet and hot?”
“Jugs,” Theo says, patting Dante on the back calmly when he chokes. “I was just very innocently mentioning to Tai that I think our big teddy bear has a thing for him.”
Heat rises to my cheeks as my eyes search for a safe place to land. “Like I said, he’s straight. And married.”
“Married?” Dante raises a brow at me. “Where would you get that idea?”
My brows pinch as I struggle to form words. “I mean, he is married,” I say when my mouth decides to work again. “He has a wife.”
Dante tilts his head, lips pulling flat. “And you heard that from him?”
“I… yes,” I stress. “He’s married to a woman named Beth.”
Dante’s brows lift higher, though he gives a conceding nod. “Yeah, technically, I guess you’re right. He was, but they’ve been split up for so long that sometimes I forget they were a couple.”
“What?” I breathe.
“They separated three, four years ago, I think? I know the process had been taking forever, but he got a wild hair up his ass a couple of months back and pushed the courts. Things sped up after that, and the divorce was official a few weeks ago.”
“How do you know that?” I demand, and it comes out as an accusation.
He stares at me before rolling his lips between his teeth. “We went out to celebrate once it was done.”
“Celebrate,” Theo mutters from beside him. “Jugs was so out of it, it felt more like a funeral.”
“Yeah,” Dante agrees, glancing over my shoulder at where Connor sits. “He’s been down ever since he went on that trip.”
Tightness squeezes my sternum so hard my lungs can’t take in air. “No,” I argue loudly, and both of them stare at me as my hand flies to my chest. “No, he’s married. He was on the phone with her, she was… she was there.”
Dante’s eyes are fixed on me, brows pinched above his nose as he stares with that unnerving observation. “They’re still friends. It was an amicable split. She’s dating a guy from his gym now, actually. He set them up.”
I twist to stare at Connor over my shoulder, where he absentmindedly stares out the window. A sticky, tangled ball of confused emotions settles heavy in my throat, and I have to try a few times before I’m able to swallow around it.
“Oh,” I manage, but it comes out in a hoarse whisper.
Dante and Theo stare at me while the ringing in my ears gets louder and a wave of panic closes my windpipe. When I try to fill my lungs through my nose, the invisible hand constricting my neck squeezes tighter. My mouth sags open as I gasp for air.
“Tai?” Theo asks, his voice sharp with concern.
I recoil as he reaches for me, fighting to keep my composure while tiny white pinpricks dance at the edges of my vision. My eyes dart around the cabin, but my sight blurs until everything becomes a hazy blob.
I need to ground myself, but I can’t see. Can’t hear. Can’t think.
“Excuse me,” I wheeze, and bolt toward the back of the plane.
Something underfoot trips me, but I catch myself on the wall and stagger into the bathroom.
I fumble for the sink and drop onto the toilet, struggling to breathe.
Long, rasping inhales refuse to fill my lungs, and the speckled white of my vision spreads to a blackness that fills my line of sight.
Nothing makes sense, it doesn’t make sense.
I fucked up…
Oh god, I really fucked up.
Acid rises in my throat, competing with my clamped airway for space when there isn’t any left. I collapse to my knees as I dry heave over the toilet. My whole body trembles, and the ringing in my ears rises to a shriek. The air is thick as my lungs refuse to work.
I can’t breathe.
Warm hands land on my shoulders as Connor’s solid body presses against my back, his voice breaking through the sirens in my head. “Breathe, sweetheart,” he whispers in my ear. “Let yourself relax, okay? You’re alright… you’re safe, and you aren’t alone. I’m right here.”
A sound that might be a sob chokes out of my restricted windpipe.
“Can you feel my chest rising?” he asks. I nod, numb, as I press back against him, trying to focus on the steady movements of his body. “That’s it. Just relax. I need you to take a breath for me, okay? We’ll do it together. I’m right here and I’m not going anywhere.”
My attempt sounds like a death rattle as I try to suck in air and only manage tiny bursts.
“Good,” he soothes. “That was good. Rest for a second and we’ll give it another shot.” He’s steady as he holds me there, his palms stroking my arms in slow, comforting passes. The first notch of panic releases its hold on me.
“Can you try again?” His hand rests on my sternum, following the rise and fall of my breath. “That’s great, sweetheart. Don’t worry about anything else, just focus on your breathing. Nothing else matters, okay? Not while I’ve got you.”
Another few shaky breaths give me more control, and he never lets go of me. “You’re doing so good,” he whispers, his hand gliding up and down over my chest. “Now, our choices are limited in here, but can you tell me five things you see?”
He remembered.
Surprise jolts me enough to take a quick inhale, and my voice creaks as it comes out. “Soap dispenser, air freshener, towel… mirror… toilet.”
“Saved the easiest for last, huh?” He gives a gentle pat to my chest.
I exhale a tiny laugh as another notch of panic leaves my body. My breathing is coming easier now, and the ringing in my ears is down to a dull hum.
“Four things you can hear,” he instructs softly.
“Your voice, the music on the speakers, the wind outside… your voice.”
“You said that already,” he teases.
I sink back into his body. “Because it’s all I want to hear,” I whisper.
His hand flexes gently against my chest. The attack has released me from its grip, but my body is struggling in the aftermath.
Minutes pass, and we stay like this without moving.
Slowly, painfully, my lungs pull in the oxygen they need and my breathing steadies.
The spots in my vision fade, but the blurriness remains until I squeeze my eyes closed, freeing the tears to streak my cheeks.
I turn and find his eyes, and they’re overflowing with emotion that’s laced in fear.
He offers me a tiny, tentative smile, like he’s bracing for anger once more.
I try to speak, but no sound comes out, so I stop fighting the urge and do what feels natural.
I tuck my face into his chest and curl into his lap.
His arms wrap around me, and it’s like a boulder is lifted from my chest. The first full breath I’ve taken in months fills my lungs. He shifts us until he’s leaning against the wall, maneuvering me until I straddle him with my head resting against his shirt.
For a few quiet minutes, his fingertips dance up and down my spine, the steady thump of his heart directly beneath my ear. His palm cups the back of my head and hugs me against his chest, the ghost of a kiss pressing against my temple.
“You okay?” he whispers.
“I don’t know,” I whisper back.
He swallows so roughly it’s audible in the quiet room. He doesn’t push me any further, simply sits there and pets me as I soak in his comforting warmth and familiar smell.
A loud thump sounds from outside, followed by a muffled curse as the door cracks open. Theo’s sheepish face peeks inside. “Hey, uh, guys, I was just checking on… things…”
“You mean eavesdropping?” Connor deadpans.
Theo cringes. “I guess, yeah, okay, maybe. I was just worried. Are you okay?” His eyes shift to me, and he gives me a meaningful look that tells me he will have endless questions about what he’s seeing.
“He’s fine,” Connor answers for me. “Lock the door behind you, please.” It’s a command to leave rather than the polite request he makes it sound like, but Theo obeys. The lock clicks behind him as the door closes.
“We can’t monopolize the bathroom,” I say softly.
“Sure we can,” he answers, just as gentle. “I’d like to see someone try to make me move.”
The minutes stretch on in silence, and even though my panic attack has passed, neither of us moves. He continues to hold me until I know I have to speak up.
“Connor?”
“Yeah, sweetheart?” He presses his lips against my hair.
I shut my eyes, melting into the gesture. “Can we talk?”