20. Declan
DECLAN
Four days until OA Con
I’m already checking my phone when Ava’s text pops onto the screen.
The surge of adrenaline that follows threatens to overcome all logical thought.
Larken Trail. She must have been out for a run?
Maybe she tripped, twisted her ankle? I make a mad dash for the bathroom, tapping out a hasty text before digging under the sink for the first aid kit.
Me: On my way
I jam the plastic box into my book bag and sprint back to the garage, shoving on my helmet and pulling my bike from its wall mount.
It seems like my best bet for reaching her quickly, seeing as I can’t exactly take my truck down a pedestrian trail.
I’m halfway down the driveway when an alternative scenario strikes, gutting me with fear: Ava alone on the trail with some creeper.
It’s still daylight, but it isn’t used all that much during the week.
Not like some of the more popular trails.
I’ve never pedaled so hard in my life.
The farther down the trail I go, the greater the worry grows.
Then I see her, and I almost fall off my seat from relief.
“Ava!” I swing from my bike, letting it drop to the ground as I kneel beside her. Her shoulders are hunched, and there’s a sheen of sweat on the back of her neck. I do a quick scan of her body for obvious injuries, but nothing jumps out at me. “What happened? Are you hurt?”
She lifts her head, her wide-eyed gaze meeting mine. Her hand clutches my bicep, and her voice comes out in raspy bursts as she says, “I think I’m… having… a panic… attack.”
Damn. What am I supposed to do? Pretty much everything I know about panic attacks comes from TV shows and movies, not actual, real-life experience.
Stay calm. If you panic, it’ll only make things worse.
I take a deep breath and force myself to relax.
When in doubt, google and hope the results aren’t complete crap.
“It’s okay.” I pull out my cell and do a quick search for how to work someone through a panic attack. Remaining calm is first on the list. I take another breath, bolstered by the fact that my instincts seem to line up.
Assure the person the attack isn’t dangerous, and that it’s only temporary. Guide them to take deep breaths, counting to five on each inhale and exhale.
I keep my voice as steady as possible while I repeat the steps to Ava, breathing along with her. Her grip on my arm loosens slightly, her breath evening out bit by bit. Her eyes still have a wild, spaced-out look to them, so I continue to scroll, moving on to grounding techniques.
“Tell me five things you can see,” I say, watching her face as she blinks back at me.
She swallows, gaze darting about. “I see… trees. A paved trail.” A pause, another breath in and out. “Dandelions. Your bike.” Her gaze shifts back to my face, softening. “Green eyes.”
My heart flips, and I have to focus to keep my breathing steady. “Good. Now tell me four things you can touch.”
She takes a shuddering breath and presses her palms to the ground.
“Grass between my fingers.” They curl, digging into the earth.
“Soil.” Another breath, this one slow and steady.
Her shoulders relax. I can almost feel her heartbeat slowing.
Her eyes close, head tipping back. “Sun on my face.” They flutter open, meeting mine, and I have to physically stop myself from leaning over and kissing her right then and there.
She lifts her hand and lightly clasps the front of my hoodie. “Fabric, soft and warm.”
It’s my heart that’s racing now, and no amount of measured breathing seems to slow it. All I can do is hold myself still while she leans in, forehead dropping to rest on my shoulder. She lets out a soft sigh, and I wrap my arms around her as she melts into my hold.
“Thank you for coming,” she whispers.
My arms tighten. “I’ll always come when you need me.”
She burrows against my chest. “I should have just gone to your house like I planned. Then you wouldn’t have had to come racing out here. Sorry.”
“It’s all good. I’ve been meaning to dust off the old bicycle anyway.
Driving everywhere is making me soft. I mean, just look at these calves.
Twigs.” She lets out a laugh that makes me feel like I’ve won a marathon, and I release my hold when she pulls away, pretending to examine my calves.
I tug the bottom of my pant leg up to my knee and make a face.
“Have you ever seen such a pathetic sight?”
She grins, and I rejoice at the returning color in her face. “I don’t know, they look pretty cut to me.”
“Hmm.” I twist my leg from one side to the other. “How do I know you’re not just buttering me up so that I’ll give you a ride back on my pegs?”
“Your bike has pegs?”
“Obviously. How else do you think Hiro got me to haul him around places before we turned sixteen?”
“So dependable, even in your youth.”
“A generous take, but I’m pretty sure the word you’re looking for is pushover.”
“Not even. You’re a good friend. Hiro’s lucky to have you as one.” Her smile softens, her voice growing serious. “I know I am.”
You could have me as more than just that.
You could have it all. I push the words down, resisting the urge to pull her back into my arms. This is neither the time nor the place for confessions.
Not when she’s already in a vulnerable state.
I study her face, reassuring myself that she seems mostly recovered before asking, “The panic attack. Have you ever had one before?”
She shakes her head. “Never.”
I tilt mine. “Do you wanna talk about it?”
She hesitates. “I know I probably should, but… maybe not just yet? I’d rather just go back to your house and finish the dagger prep for Saturday. Maybe watch some One Piece? If that’s okay with you.”
“You had me at dagger prep.” I stand, brushing bits of grass from my jeans before holding out my hand. “Come on. I’ll give you a lift on those sweet pegs.”
“Ooh la la. What an offer.”
Her palm slides across mine, and I savor the feel of it as I pull her up onto her feet. She wobbles, and I slip a hand under her opposite elbow until I’m certain she has her balance. I search her wide, gold-flecked eyes, her hand still tucked firmly within mine. “All good?”
She nibbles her lip, and again I force myself not to chase the motion with a bite of my own. “All good,” she whispers.
And is it just me, or does she sound as breathless as I feel?
I clear my throat. Tell myself to let go of her hand.
It takes a while for my fingers to respond to the directive, but eventually they do, palms still humming with electricity.
I lift my bike off the ground and straddle it in place on the pavement.
I pass her my helmet. “Here. Put this on.”
I keep my gaze fixed straight ahead while she buckles the helmet into place and steps up onto the pegs. And I’m glad I couldn’t drive here, because nothing has ever felt so right as Ava’s hands on my shoulders.
The smile that stretches across my face is so wide it hurts.
It’s still there when we return to my garage and crank up the Mad Caddies, easily polishing off the last of our prep work.
It’s there when Mom invites Ava to join us for dinner, and I get to watch her and Dad throw increasingly corny puns back and forth over plates of spaghetti Bolognese.
And it’s very much there when I settle onto the couch, with Ava close beside me and Monkey D. Luffy causing havoc on the screen.
Her eyes are at half-mast, and she leans into my side as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. I rest my arm along the back of the couch behind her head, not quite daring to go farther. She sighs, and I feel it deep in my soul.
“I don’t know if you know this or not, but my dad remarried a few years ago.” The words are softly spoken, Ava’s gaze never leaving the screen.
I follow her lead, keeping mine there as well. “To the woman?”
There’s no need to clarify which. We both know I’m referring to the infamous convention lady her dad was apparently cheating on her mom with before finally up and leaving altogether.
Ava nods. “Becky Wilson. Aimes, now.”
I grunt. I still can’t believe what a jerk my childhood idol turned out to be.
“They’re having a baby.”
“What, seriously?” I glance down at her in surprise, mentally trying to calculate her dad’s age. I know he and Ava’s mom were young when they had Ava, but still. “Aren’t they, like, too old to have kids?”
“Apparently not.”
“Huh.” Then, “How do you feel about that? Becoming a big sister?”
She shrugs, but I can see the fatigue rimming her eyes. “I don’t know. It hasn’t really sunk in, I guess.” She hesitates. “I don’t think Mom’s taking it very well.”
“Aw man.” I slide my arm from the back of the couch to around her shoulders, not as a move, but as what I hope is a bit of comfort. “I’m sorry.”
She rests her head on my shoulder, lids fluttering closed on another sigh. “I just want her to be happy, you know?”
I brush a lock of hair from her face, tucking it lightly behind her ear.
“Yeah,” I whisper, voice rough. I brush a kiss against her hair as her breathing evens out.
“I do.” I turn the volume down low, and the episode rolls over into another while the girl I was never able to stop loving falls asleep in my arms.