19. Jason
19
I can’t handle it.
The only reason I’m taking the lead is because I have to, but on the inside, it’s like my heart is sliced in two. I love having her in my arms, feeling her heartbeat against mine, but it’s not the same when she’s shrinking like a defenseless bird, knocked out by life.
“That’s it, close your eyes. You’re safe.” I push a kiss to her forehead, my back slamming against the emergency exit before it bursts open.
Greeted by the salty air, gratitude and relief make her weight in my arms feel lighter.
Thank fuck, this studio is close to the ocean.
Without a second thought, I take big strides toward the beach. The fact that she’s completely still has me nervous, but her arms wrapped around my neck settle it enough to keep going.
If she was completely out, she wouldn’t be able to hold on to my body, and I’m thanking the universe that she is. We really need to talk about this shit. This is the second time she’s had a panic attack at work.
How many times does it happen when she’s alone?
Fuck . My throat hurts just thinking about it.
When I reach the edge of the beach, I kick off my sneakers and connect my feet with the warm sand. Softly, I lower my knees to the ground, taking her with me until she’s cradled in my lap. I yank off her heels, tossing them beside us, then hold her closer against my chest.
“Do you hear me?”
Julie’s murmur ignites a rush of calmness to settle in my muscles, and I sigh. Thank God.
“Great, now breathe.” I lead by example, inhaling deeply.
It takes a few tries, and finally, her body starts to move in line with mine. Our chest rising and falling almost as one.
“Good job. That’s it. Now deeper.” I twist her so her back is at my front, circling my arms around her waist.
“I got you, baby. Keep breathing. Do you feel that? Feel the sand underneath your feet. Wiggle them.” She gently moves her toes, and the excess sand falls from her skin. “Keep breathing.”
She relaxes into the hollow of my chest.
She’s coming back to me. Her breathing levels out, the panic surging out of her body with each exhale.
I wrap my arms tighter around her so I can rest my chin on her shoulders. “Soak in the warmth of the sun.”
With my eyes closed, I do as I advise, and for a while we just sit there.
It’s weird, how the day changes within a second. Five minutes ago, I was freaking out about her safety, and now the outcome for her panic attack has me on cloud nine. It’s an excuse to hold her, and I’ll take it with open arms.
I’ve been dying to touch her since I kissed her, the memory replaying in my head. It pops up when I’m driving, wishing she was sitting in the passenger seat like she did that night. When I’m in the shower, and I’m fisting my dick, imagining her lips wrapped around it.
I kissed her to snap her, us , out of the fight that seems to return at the most inconvenient times. I wanted to overwrite my frustrations with something that could remind me of how much I miss her in my life.
It fucking backfired, because now she’s literally in the palms of my hands, and I want to kiss her again.
Focus, Jason.
“Are you okay?” I ask when minutes have passed.
She sits quietly in my arms, her weight surrendered to my body.
“Babe?”
She finally nods, then buries her face in her hands, letting it fall against my chest. “Oh, God. What will everyone think?”
The move warms my insides, loving the trust she gives me by simply leaning into my body for comfort.
“Don’t worry about them.” I will tell them it was the heat, or she forgot to eat breakfast because she was so dedicated to this shoot.
I will come up with something, and we will work around that.
What I’m more worried about is her well-being.
“That was another panic attack, wasn’t it?”
She hums in agreement, the vibration aching in my heart because she’s way too casual about this. This is not normal. This is not how I left her in North Carolina a couple of months ago. Before she moved to LA, I never heard her talk about panic attacks. Or didn’t she tell me?
Does she not trust me enough?
“That was my gynecologist.” Her sweet voice pulls me out of my own head.
Gynecologist? She’s not pregnant, is she?
Panic claws up my throat, sitting on my chest like a cargo container of bricks.
Fuck.
Is she pregnant with Jacob’s kid?
“Okay,” I drawl, trying to hide the fact that it feels like I’m getting an open-heart surgery.
“They want me to have a colposcopy.”
“A what?” She might as well start talking in Chinese.
Her voice grows thicker, and I tighten my grip on her, burying my nose in her vanilla scented hair.
“It’s where they take a snap of the tissue in my cervix.”
Yeah, this doesn’t calm me down one bit. “Why?”
She inhales a shaky breath, and I gently grab her chin, desperate to look into that whiskey brown gaze.
“What’s wrong, baby?”
The deep brown circles of her eyes are laced with fear, and fuck me, why does it cut through my skin so deeply?
Her lashes fall to her cheeks, a tear escaping from the curve of her lid.
“They— Because they have found some disturbed cells that could grow into…into—” Her sharp intake of breath sucks her words away.
Into what? But before I voice the words, it clicks. Oh, shit.
“Cancer?”
She nods.
Fuck .
Not pregnant. Okay. That’s good, right?
But the real reason doesn’t put my mind at ease either.
“I keep thinking about Liz,” she confesses, referring to Charlotte’s mother.
I still remember vividly how Hunter drove Charlotte and her mama to the hospital for chemo. She was the kindest woman, and it was awful to see her so fragile over the years.
“I don’t want to go through chemo after chemo,” Julie sniffles, and I kiss one of her tears on her cheeks. “What if I need a hysterectomy? I still want kids! Oh my god.”
She might not be able to have kids?
What? No.
I refuse to believe that, and a huff of disbelief tells me that’s not going to happen.
“Ssssh, it’s okay.” I slowly press open-mouthed kisses below her ear to distract her, calm her down, calm me down. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. They just said they wanted to do another check. It could be nothing. You will have kids. I promise.”
“How do you know?” Because they are going to be mine too , I think when I stare into those fiery embers.
What the hell, Jason? What are you talking about? You haven’t even made it official yet. You don’t even fully trust her, and you’re thinking about kids?
Don’t be stupid.
“I just do. But I understand why you’re scared.” She nestles her cheek against my shoulder, and my chest swells out of proportion. “I’m here for you. Do you want me to go with you?”
She tilts her head a little, surprise in her tone. “Would you? Because I really hate lying there all exposed with my legs up in the air.”
“Of course, I will.” I’d fight bears for her. I’d sell my soul for her.
I’d even sit through a Thanksgiving dinner with my brother for her if that would make her happy. Coming with her for a procedure where she has to lay—
“Wait, what? Legs in the air? You mean, they are going to—to?” What the fuck are they going to do?
“They need access to my cervix.” Amusement hits her eyes, but only growing my glare.
“You have a female doctor, right?”
She bites away her smile. “Dr. Lowel is a fifty-year-old man, supposedly the best in Los Angeles.”
Fuck me.
“So, you’re telling me that some guy is going to be touching your pussy?”
Look, I’m no doctor, but I’m not dense either.
We’re talking about her pussy. And yeah, if it wasn’t already a given, now I’m definitely coming with her.
Her chuckles bring relief in my nervous system, triggering a reluctant smile of my own. “You make it sound like bad porn.”
“It better not be.”
“Jason Spencer, are you jealous of my gynecologist?”
My eyebrows knit together. Fuck, I really am jealous.
I inwardly roll my eyes at myself, then smile to lighten my own mood.
“That depends. What does he look like?”
“He’s old and chubby.”
My stomach turns.
“You’re not making it any better.”
“He’s okay, really. You don’t have to worry.”
“I know, because I’m going to be right there.” Knowing some old doc is going to be putting his fingers in my girl’s pussy makes me want to go all fight club on the man.
Did you really just call her your girl?
You stole a kiss, Jason. That’s it . But fuck, it was such a good kiss.
And now my dick is alive and kicking.
“How chivalrous,” she mocks, but I’m glad the ease is back in her tone.
I laugh, realizing the ridiculous conversation we’re having, but when I hold her brown eyes linked with mine, I still can’t get rid of that nagging ball rolling around in my stomach.
I’m dying to question out loud if this is really the root of her panic attack or if something else is keeping her stress levels at an ultimate high.
The only reason I’m not is because there are a dozen people waiting for us back at the studio, and the last thing I want to do is upset her more before we have to get back to work in a couple of minutes.
It bothers me, though. It bothers me that she doesn’t trust me enough to confide in me. To tell me what’s on her mind like she used to. And I hate how my mind has a hard time trusting her because of it. I want to be her person.
Because deep down something tells me she could be mine.
“I’m sorry you’re going through this, Jules.” I play with a strand of her soft hair. “I’m right here for you.”
“Thank you.” There’s warmth in her voice, burning a fire in my heart.
What do I have to do to get her to open up to me? To show her that I’m still me. I’m still her friend. I’d still move mountains for her.
I can’t force her to tell me what’s got her so stressed, because the more I push, the more she will push back. No, I have to show her she can trust me.
“Jules?” Another hum is what I get, and this time the heat of her breath feels scorching on my skin. “Do you trust me?”
I’m afraid of the answer. I didn’t exactly give her trust when I walked out on her all those months ago. It wouldn’t be a complete surprise if she said no, but it would put my heart through a shredder.
“Yeah, I do.” No doubt. No hesitation, and my heart fist pumps the air in victory.
“Will you face your fear of open water with me?”
Silence. It’s thick and long, and for just a split second, I realize hearing the word no come out of her mouth within the next moments will feel like just as much as a rejection.
“Yes.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes.” I can hear her smile, and the corners of my mouth lift.
She might not feel comfortable telling me everything yet, but at least she trusts me to help her face her fear. That’s huge. That’s trust in my book.
She trusts me again, and I’m not going to destroy it.