Chapter 29 #2
Nothing. He leaned on the banister for support, listening for even the slightest hint that she was up here.
He sung her name, albeit out of tune, the second time, stepping closer to the white doors.
An arched window at the end of the hall peered out onto the fields, where the guests began to stumble and giggle a little more drunkenly.
He could make out the orchard from here, rose-covered wedding arch still lit up in the distance.
If she was here, she clearly didn’t want him to know. He scratched the back of his neck, willing himself to just go – but when his feet finally obeyed, a sniffle came from behind one of the doors.
He followed the sound, pulse ratcheting. ‘Rae? It’s just me.’
‘I’ll be out soon.’
Her words were fractured, like shards of glass stuck in her throat. He crept closer to the voice, unsure where it had come from when he found both of the rooms on that side empty.
And then he stopped in the middle of them, where a narrow cupboard sat. When he pressed his ear to the wood, he heard her shallow breaths.
‘Can I come in?’
‘I’m fine.’
His fingers curled around the handle. ‘Rae,’ he pleaded. ‘Let me see you.’
Her huff chattered through the space, a murmured, ‘Okay,’ uttered afterwards.
Despite the worry pounding in his ears, he tried to move cautiously.
The door whined open on old hinges, releasing a current of warm, laundry-scented air.
He thought his mind was playing tricks on him when he found only darkness and the silhouettes of towels draped over hooks – until he looked down and found Rae curled in on herself, knees to her chest, face covered by her hair and hands.
‘Bit of an odd time to be doing the laundry,’ he commented.
She didn’t respond, showing no sign she’d heard at all.
He had just enough room to step in, closing the door behind him.
Though his fingers itched for the light switch, he didn’t dare press it.
If she was sitting here, away from the light and the music and the dancing, there was a reason, and he needed her to know he wouldn’t force her out of whatever this was.
Just sit with her, take care of her, until it passed.
Awkwardly, he crouched down, biting back a grimace when he found her cheeks shiny with tears. She buried her head in her arms to hide them, breaths still rasping out of her like her lungs were gripping onto each one with clenched fists, reluctant to set them free.
‘Can you talk to me, sweetheart?’ he asked softly.
‘I’ll be okay. Just… Just give me…’
‘You’re having a panic attack.’ He’d seen it before, the shudders and the shallow breaths and the stiff muscles. Felt it before, like he’d told her, but not for a long time.
‘No shit,’ she muttered. And then: ‘Sorry.’
‘Don’t be. You’re okay. You’re safe here.’
‘No. No, I’m a mess. Everything is.’ Her pained whimper plucked straight through his chest. His fingers carded through her hair gently, his own breath catching in his throat.
‘I can’t… I can’t…’ She crumpled, her nails pressing into her scalp.
He urged them away before they could dig, mouth running dry as he figured out what to do.
Everything he’d learned from his medical training said to sit, reassure the patient, encourage them to breathe deep and slow, but he knew it wasn’t that easy, and sometimes pretending it was could only make things worse.
Besides, this wasn’t a patient. It was her. Not a stranger, not a person in need of saving. Just the woman he was falling in love with, trying to catch herself before she fell. He wanted to hold her hand until she found her own way back.
‘Can I hold you?’
‘I don’t… I don’t know.’
‘Okay. That’s okay. I’m here for you. Whatever you need, whenever you’re ready.’
She gulped, then said, ‘Yes. Hold me. Please.’
He didn’t need to be told twice, lowering to a cross-legged seat and coaxing her into his lap. Her arms clamped tight, desperate, around him as she buried her face into his shoulder, and he drew gentle circles over her vertebrae, one at a time, from the top of her neck downwards.
‘I’ve got you,’ he whispered. ‘It’ll pass soon.’
‘It’s too much,’ she said. ‘Everything is too much. I can’t do it anymore. I thought… I thought I could, but I can’t, I can’t—’
‘I know.’ He could feel her breaking apart, feel all that anxiety and uncertainty and pain he’d seen in her pour out all at once until he felt like he was submerged, too.
‘Everything went wrong, Struan.’ A sob escaped her. ‘The potatoes, and the pizza, and the gluten-free soufflé, and—’
‘I just talked to Harper. She couldn’t have been happier. Whatever happened in the kitchen, they didn’t see it. You gave them the best day of their lives.’
She wasn’t listening, not really. ‘I used to love cooking, but I don’t anymore. I feel like I can’t breathe when I’m in a kitchen.’
‘You’re not, now. You’re here, safe,’ he promised, cradling the nape of her neck so she felt every bit of support he had to offer. ‘You’re safe,’ he said again.
When he felt her relax into him, he knew that he’d finally gotten through.
‘You’re safe,’ he repeated once more.