Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Rhett
I got off work a little early today, and I can’t shake my excitement over the fact that I’ll get to spend more time with Olivia. Most nights when I get home, we cook a late dinner and head to bed maybe an hour later. Today, we should have more time together.
I swing the front door open, half expecting to find Maverick and Olivia running around the house together or sitting on the couch watching Dexter, but instead, I’m met with deafening silence.
I scan the kitchen and find crusty jelly on the floor. An open jar of peanut butter still sits on the counter. I’ve only known Olivia for about two and a half weeks, but I’m pretty confident she wouldn’t just abandon a mess like this.
I peer into the guest bedroom, which still has the door open, and find Olivia, crumpled in a ball and covered in both a blanket and a protective German Shepherd.
I rush toward her and am met with a curled lip from Maverick. Doing my best to ignore him, instead of making him feel challenged, I drop to my knees by Olivia’s side. When I sweep my hand gently over Olivia’s forehead, he backs off.
I scoop her into my arms, noting her shallow breathing. My touch seems to draw her out of her cocoon. When she looks up at me with those amber orbs I’ve already become so fond of, they’re stained with tears. I’ve never seen someone have a panic attack before, but I imagine this must be it.
I rub my hand gently on her back. “It’s me. It’s Rhett. It’s okay now. I’m here.”
She goes stiff when realization hits her. “Rhett? What… are you… doing… here?” She’s still gasping.
“I came to check on you.”
“Please… go… away.”
“No, I’m going to stay right here with you until it’s over. What can I do for you?”
“Just… hold me… please.”
I lift her onto her bed, wrapping my arms around her with firm but gentle pressure, letting her know I’m here without restricting her ability to take in air. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”
As her breathing slowly starts to sound regular again, I remain silent, allowing her to have whatever space she needs to calm herself down. Just when I think we have made it out, she takes a sharp inhale, wheezing again. Without even thinking, I hold her tighter and nuzzle into the crook of her neck, whispering. “It’s okay. You’re safe. I’m here. I’ve got you. Breathe.” The words come out sounding confident, but inside I’m a wreck. I hate seeing the strong and fierce woman I know be torn down by her thoughts.
I take one hand and smooth it gently over her hair, sweeping it away from her face as her breathing begins to slow again. I don’t relax until she finally says, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” I whisper against her ear, afraid to shatter the calm that has finally settled upon us.
We sit there quietly for all of thirty seconds until she regains her bearings and realizes she is practically sitting in my lap. She scrambles from my arms, eyes wide.
“Can I do anything for you? Do you want some water?” I ask, trying to look nonchalant after what just happened. I don’t want her to feel judged. I just want to make sure she’s okay.
“You have done plenty already. Thank you.” After a pause, she admits, “Water does sound nice though. I can grab us some glasses.”
As she attempts to rise from the bed, I yank her back down, wrapping her up tightly in my arms. “Olivia Parker! It’s okay to be vulnerable once in a while. Let me take care of you. When was the last time you let someone take care of you without fighting it?”
She keeps her mouth clamped shut, which is all the answer I need to suggest she has no recollection of a time that she accepted help from someone else.
“That’s what I thought.” I slowly release her from my grip and get up from the bed, slipping into the kitchen. I pull out a single glass and fill it with water, narrowly avoiding the jelly mess still on the floor.
I wipe it up with a paper towel, and as I come back into the room, I ask, “Maverick didn’t try to eat this?”
“No, he is the least food-driven dog I’ve ever seen. I can drop whatever I want on the floor, and he won’t touch it. I guess you need to spend more time with him if you don’t know that yet.”
“Or I’m just not as messy as you.”
“No way! Have you seen the dirt you track through the house from your cowboy boots? Don’t even get me started on the way you smell right now.”
A smile slips onto my face. My fierce girl is back. I mean not my girl. Definitely not mine. Even so, I sit back down on the bed extra close to her. I’m worried. I knew she was struggling, but it’s one thing to know it and another to see it.
“Here,” I say, handing her the glass of water.
“Thank you.” She takes a sip. “You know, it was just a panic attack. It doesn’t mean I can’t get myself water. I deal with these alone all the time.”
“I’m sorry you have had to go through these alone.” I know what it’s like to do hard things with no one to support you. My heart aches for her. “I hope you know you don’t need to be alone. Your parents would be there for you if you let them, and you wouldn’t be a burden to them. It’d probably actually help make them feel like they’re still needed. I—I could be there for you while you’re here… if you ever need it again. I don’t have much experience with panic attacks, so I’m not sure the right way to help, but I can learn to be better?—”
“Rhett, you don’t need to be better. You were great. I was very thankful to have you here.”
A hesitant smile crosses my lips. “I did okay then?”
“You did more than okay.”
I give her a nod and try to hide the satisfied smirk that’s tugging at the corners of my mouth. “Can I ask what happened? Or do you not want to talk about it?”
“I don’t think I’m ready yet. If I talk about it now, I’ll just spiral right back to where I was a few minutes ago.”
“Okay, then how do we help you get to a place where you can talk about it without panicking again?”
She chews on her lower lip. “Could you just talk to me about other stuff? Tell me about you.” The look on my face must show my hesitation and dread because she adds, “You don’t have to tell me all your deepest, darkest secrets but tell me something about you. I don’t know much. Where’d you grow up?”
“I grew up in a small town outside of Austin.”
“Did you have siblings?”
“No, I was an only child like you.”
“Were you close with your parents?”
“No,” I say simply.
“Well damn.”
I furrow my brows. “What?”
“I just can’t seem to get anything out of you. Why weren’t you close with your parents?”
“Do you want more water?” I quickly stand from the bed again, causing Maverick’s ears to perk up.
“No, I’m fine. Rhett, please. This is helping me.”
I sigh and sit back down. “My parents got divorced when I was ten. Their relationship was rocky for as long as I could remember though. They always put me in the middle of their stupid fights, which made it pretty hard to bond with them over anything else.”
“Did it ever get better though? Do you still talk with your parents?”
“I think it only got worse. I was relieved when they split, but it turned out they were holding themselves back when they lived together. Once they had a taste of being apart, it was impossible for them to be in the same room together. Growing up around that, it makes it hard to believe in love, you know? Then I had to go and make some decisions that only drove a bigger wedge between me and my parents.” I stop, not willing to go any further. I’ve already said more than I ever planned to tell Olivia. How’d she do that?
She reaches out to me, gently tracing her finger across the top of my hand, over and over. Somehow the action relaxes me. “Is that why you said you haven’t been so lucky to have unconditional love that lasts… because your parents couldn’t set aside their differences to stay together?”
I open my mouth and then quickly clamp it shut, casting my gaze down to my lap. “Yeah, for starters.”
“What else?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
Silence falls over us like a wet blanket. It quickly becomes too much for me to handle. Clapping my hands together, I say, “Okay, well that’s enough of that Debbie-downer shit. Is there a different way I can help you?”
“Will you watch Dexter with me?”
“Really? That show?” Any other time I might agree because I’m slowly getting sucked into the show, but I’m worried it won’t help her. “We should watch Friends . That’ll get you laughing and help your anxiety. Dexter will just get you amped up.”
She tosses her hand out as if to say duh . “But it’ll get me amped up in a different way than before.”
I bark out in laughter and roll my eyes, the shadow of a smile gracing my lips. “How about we try one episode of Friends ? It’s just twenty minutes of your time. After that, if you don’t feel better or still want to watch Dexter , we can do that.”
She crosses her arms. “I thought I got to choose what was going to help me.”
“Not anymore.” I sweep her off her bed, throwing her over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes and carrying her up the stairs to my bedroom. That’s where the good TV is.
“Rhett! Put me down!” She wails, batting her palms against my back. Maverick starts barking at me.
“Stop resisting! Just let me take care of you for a little bit longer. It’ll all be over soon.”
“Thank God!” she says as I set her down. Our gazes meet, and there’s something there. I can feel it. I know she can feel it too. This is not just about how beautiful Olivia is or what it feels like to touch her. I actually care for Olivia as a human being. I want to protect her. I want to make her laugh. I want to protect myself from these feelings, but we’ve both knocked down some of our walls today, and I’m scared to death that without those walls, I’m beyond saving.