57. Chapter Fifty-Seven
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Kat
Idid, in fact, stay up all night coding. But by seven the next morning, I was ready to put the sensors in the car.
Ready to put all that kneeling on concrete practice to work.
I only had a few hours to get the sensors installed, so I recruited some help.
Which was how I found myself kneeling on a squishy pad instead of the concrete, popping a sensor behind a brake. While Andy, Sam, and several of the other mechanics listened to me carefully while I told them how to install the ones in their hands.
We were just celebrating the fact that we got both cars done in time when I teetered off my squishy mat to my doom.
No, I didn’t fall on my face.
That would’ve been better.
I fell on my knees.
On the cold, unforgiving concrete.
And there was blood soaking into that concrete. I wasn’t sure where it came from, since I thought I was in the garage. But I looked up, and there was no one around me. That wasn’t right. I knew that wasn’t right. And I knew I couldn’t look down.
If I didn’t want all of the people I thought might still be around me to think I was nuts, I couldn’t look down. I stood, and I walked in the direction of the hallway, or at least where I thought it was here in the garage.
It felt like my heart was going to explode in my chest at the thought of walking AWAY from what—who—I knew was on the floor.
Bleeding.
Dying.
Dead.
I turned back. A small cry left my lips. I couldn’t leave him there. I couldn’t. I-
Hands were pulling on me and I didn’t want to go. I didn’t want to leave him there. I didn’t- I couldn’t-
There were freezing cold HANDS on my face. Not water, but hands. And I could hear my name. And a voice that I didn’t recognize at first. Until he said something else.
“Gatita, we’re alone now but you need to talk to me,” said a scared voice in Spanish.
I blinked and it was like a switch was flipped, I was back in the garage where I KNEW I had been. I knew it. My brain knew it. But my body had REFUSED to believe it. I wanted to fucking SCREAM.
“I’m so fucking frustrated, Milo,” I whispered. I saw him take a deep breath once I answered. We were in the bathroom, and he was right—we were alone.
“You want to talk about it?” he asked, sticking to Spanish since I had done so. I shook my head.
“I can’t,” I whispered softly. I didn’t want to look at him; I didn’t want to see the pity there. I leaned my head back against the tile wall.
“That’s okay. No one saw anything, since I’m sure you’ll be worried about that next,” he offered reasonably. He was right.
“I’ve been practicing,” I whispered, a tear falling down my cheek. I HAD been. And I’d been doing WELL. But… I fell. I didn’t do it on purpose. And that fucking took me out. Took away all my excruciatingly hard work.
“You were almost here, just looking really quiet, if that makes you feel better. I wouldn’t have known otherwise except you ignored me when I said hi, and then you made a noise and I knew something was wrong,” he explained matter-of-factly. I glanced up, and breathed a sigh of relief.
There was no pity there.
Just curiosity.
That might’ve been worse.
“I have been having panic attacks,” I started. He nodded, leaning back against the wall next to me. Hands shoved in his pockets. One leg crossed over the other. I smiled.
He was standing just like Henry.
“That wasn’t a panic attack, though?” he stated, only turning it into a question at the last second. I shook my head. I wasn’t even sure how…
“I’m not even sure how to explain,” I offered honestly. He waited while I thought.
“I have triggers. A lot of the time, they trigger a panic attack. But if it’s really bad, sometimes I feel like I’m not fully HERE, anymore.
Even if I KNOW I am, my body doesn’t feel it.
It’s something ‘normal’ with PTSD, I guess,” I explained, wondering again at how much more open I managed to be in Spanish.
Some of it was definitely just that Milo was very…
soothing. Safe to talk to. For some reason.
“And I think between not sleeping last night and that being one of my worse triggers, and not being prepared for it, it hit me like a freight train. So, thank you,” I finished, knowing I wouldn’t be able to get anything else out. I felt terrible he had to rescue me.
“Well, if that was one of your worse ones, then I think you’re really doing pretty okay?” he offered again. I smiled. He was trying so hard to be supportive. I appreciated it.
“Milo, if you hadn’t snapped me out of it, I would’ve been screaming in seconds.
SCREAMING, screaming. And giving away a lot more of my personal business than I ever want the entire garage knowing,” I joked, not really joking.
He smiled back at me and pulled me into a hug. I didn’t fight him, for once.
“Well, Gatita. Anytime you need, let me know,” he offered sincerely. He was such an earnest little bean. Too bad I couldn’t control when or where. But I was still smiling.
“I’ll do my best to hunt you down in my delirium, then.”
He laughed.