Chapter 37
THIRTY-SEVEN
It’s Monday night, and I’m exhausted.
Yesterday, I spent the day alone, spinning in circles with the thought of the date looming tomorrow.
Nicholas Harrington and his stupidly beautiful face.
He wants to drive around a bit. Fantastic. Just what I want, to be trapped in a moving cage, feeling the walls close in while he sits beside me, probably radiating ease.
Yet here I am, about to do a dry run with Koen because, yes, I texted him during yesterday’s spiral and asked if he could hypnotize me or something to make it easier to take the ride. If Nicholas sees me spiral, I’ll have to explain, to come up with something.
When I’m with him, I seem to only be able to tell the truth. To be myself. And if opening up about it to Nicholas sounds like a recipe to fuck up this mission, asking Koen for help is the lesser evil.
I step outside the back door of Euphoria, the bass notes vibrating through the concrete and up into my bones as I scan the parking lot.
My eyes catch on the familiar outline of the Bronco under the streetlight, Koen leaning against the driver’s door.
His arms are crossed, his stance so infuriatingly calm it feels like a personal insult to my anxiety.
He shifts slightly, the motion making his hair fall into his eyes, and he brushes it back with a careless sweep of his fingers. It’s ridiculous how that simple movement knots my stomach with something sharp and sweet.
Damn him for looking hot.
His gaze flicks over my outfit—leggings and an oversized hoodie—a look I never go for after work, but he’d insisted I’d be more comfortable this way. At first, I’d balked at the idea, my usual post-shift routine of tight dresses and high heels feeling like armor I wasn’t ready to shed.
Of course, when I protested, he saw right through me and texted back.
Koen
You don’t need the armor with me. Just be comfortable.
And now, standing here under his steady gaze, wrapped in fabric that feels more like a cocoon than a costume, I understand why.
His eyes soften as if he sees something underneath the layers, something that doesn’t need sequins or glitter to shine.
It’s like he knows the real me and wants me to know it’s enough.
“Not your usual clubwear,” he comments.
“Yeah, well, I’m following orders.”
I even showered in the godforsaken changing room for this.
I stop a few feet away, crossing my arms and raising an eyebrow. “Let’s make one thing clear. You’re the one who owes me for this. If I weren’t doing this for you…”
“… you wouldn’t be here.” He finishes for me. “You think I don’t know that, Little Thief?”
There’s something about the way he says his nickname for me that makes my heart stutter. I brush it off, shrugging as if it’s no big deal. “So, are we getting this over with or what?”
He gestures to the passenger side. “Get in.”
I hesitate, staring at the Bronco as though it’s a trap, a ticking time bomb with a countdown that will begin the moment I get inside.
Instinctively, my gaze flicks to Koen, like my body knows that’s where the strength is.
Koen’s eyebrow twitches as he faintly smiles, daring me to back out but already knows I won’t.
No way.
I steel myself, pull open the door, and slide into the seat before I can change my mind.
He gets in, and the interior is quiet except for the faint creak of the leather seats.
I stare straight ahead, gripping my knees as he starts the engine, the rumble vibrating under my feet.
I try to imagine I’m in the club, on stage, like any normal night.
The Bronco smells of leather and something distinctly Koen—a hint of vanilla and spices, which is great and terrible because it instantly breaks the feeble illusion.
“All right.” He glances over at me. “How do you want to do this?”
“Can’t you put me in a trance again?” I ask through gritted teeth, keeping my gaze fixed on the windshield. “Make me not freak out?”
“I’d need to be there to actively keep you in a trance. And then what? You’d be slumped in the seat next to him the whole time? I don’t think that would go over well.”
“You can hypnotize me, take away the fear, right? People do that all the time for flight anxiety and stuff.”
“I already told you. It doesn’t work like that.
It’s not magic. Trauma, especially something this big, is buried so deep in your subconscious that it would take weeks, maybe months, of work to make things even a little better.
I can help you breathe through it, show you some ways to manage it.
If I could snap my fingers and take it all away, don’t you think I would have done that by now? ”
I exhale, my shoulders slumping. “Fine. So, what then?”
“We’ll start slow.” He reaches over to lightly rest his hand on my knee. “Just take a few breaths with me.”
His touch is warm, solid, like an anchor in the middle of this swirling panic. I close my eyes, focusing on the steady rhythm of my breathing.
“Good,” he murmurs after a few minutes, likely sensing that my heart rate has slowed back down to normal. “Now, open your eyes.”
I do, and he’s closer now, so close that I can see the golden specks in his brown eyes. His hand lingers on mine, grounding me, keeping me from floating away. I let myself lean into it, feeling the warmth of his palm seep through my skin.
“This is all you need to focus on,” he says softly. “The moment. Not what’s coming next, not what happened before. Just… now.”
“How do you know how to do this?” I ask, curious.
He smiles, something a little distant flickering in his eyes. “Oscar taught me. I used to get nervous before shows, so he showed me how to breathe myself calm.” His smile fades into something more thoughtful. “I still do it. Every time. When everything else feels like it might fall apart.”
“So, you are a Zen master.”
“Only when you need me to be.” He shrugs, a teasing glint returning to his eyes. “Ready now?”
“Yeah,” I murmur. “Just drive already.”
Koen chuckles, but he shifts back, his hand sliding away, the sudden loss leaving behind a much bigger void than I anticipated.
He pulls out of the parking lot and eases the rumbling Bronco down the darkened streets, and I focus on the steady rhythm of the tires on the pavement, on the way the city lights blur past.
The dispelled tensions creep back in when he picks up speed, and I dig my fingers into the seat. My breaths come quicker, the space in the car growing smaller.
“Hey, hey. You’re all right. Just breathe. Look at me.”
I can’t. The pressure in my chest grows heavier, pushing everything out until all that’s left is panic and the dizzying sound of my pulse thrumming in my ears. I’m trapped, sinking under the weight of it, and it’s as if no amount of words can pull me back up.
There’s a low curse, and the next thing I know, we’re stopped in a parking lot. My door opens, and Koen crouches to my level. The soft click of his fingers snapping in front of me brings me back enough to see his eyes, a flicker of concern slipping past his usual calm demeanor.
“Look at me.” He reaches for my chin and tilts my head toward him. I can’t look away now, and I’m not sure I even want to, as his eyes snare me, pulling me back. His thumb strokes a path across my cheek. “You’re safe,” he whispers, his eyes steady on mine. “Nothing’s going to happen. I’ve got you.”
I want to believe him, but it’s not enough to bring me back completely, not yet. I close my eyes, struggling to calm my breathing, but I still feel trapped on the edge of the moment before the crash, unable to escape.
“Take two sharp inhales and a long exhale,” Koen instructs. “It’s the fastest way to regulate the nervous system during stress.”
His fingers move from my jaw to trail down to the back of my neck. When I don’t immediately do as he asks, I feel him enter my space, then his warm breath fans across my cheek. He nips at my earlobe, and my eyes fly open at the sharp, unexpected sensation, snapping me quickly back to the present.
“You’re safe,” he repeats in my ear, a soothing rasp against my skin. “Nothing’s going to hurt you.”
I manage a shaky laugh. “You just hurt me, you hypocrite.”
He pulls back to meet my gaze, amusement shining in his eyes. “There she is.”
The dregs of the panic begin to fade, slipping away in slow, measured beats, and I’m left raw and vulnerable in their wake.
I blink, looking at him, and a lump rises in my throat as tears threaten.
Before I can stop myself, the words spill out in a whispered confession.
“I don’t know how I’m supposed to do this tomorrow, Koen.
” I swallow thickly and blink back the tears, stopping them from spilling over.
“I can barely handle it right now. How am I supposed to get through it when you’re not there? ”
His gaze roams over my face as if he’s weighing my words, turning them over in his mind for several long moments. Then he sighs, his hand slipping from my neck to take mine, squeezing gently.
“Okay,” he says with a new determination in his voice. “Let’s try something else. You’re so receptive that maybe… maybe the hypnotism will work.” He studies me, then gestures toward the deserted parking lot stretching out beside us. “Come on. Get out of the car for a minute.”
He stands, extending a hand to help me out, and I undo my seat belt to follow him. I look around, taking in the empty lot. We’re away from the bustle of Vegas, and its remoteness helps keep the panic from rising again.
“All right. Stand here.” He positions me a few feet away from the car and waits until I’m still, then steps closer, his hand finding its way to my chin again, tipping my face up so I’m forced to meet his eyes. “This is going to be the same as before, all right? Just let me in.”
I nod as I stare into his brown eyes, my uncertainty fading as I sink into their depths.