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“Evelyn.”

That wasn’t his voice. This voice was dark whiskey and chocolate and safety. My vision cleared of haze and found warm brown eyes close to mine. Lucas was crouching in front of me. Crouching because I was on the ground. I’d fallen behind the counter, back pressed up against it like I was ready to lash out. And I was.

Lena stood behind him, looking down at me with worry. I’d had an attack. I hadn’t had one in years. Why now? My cheeks flushed hot, but I still couldn’t move or run. I wasn’t out of the spiral yet. Not completely.

I closed my eyes for a moment, pressing down the horror that they’d seen this part of me. I didn’t want these people to react with disgust or pity. That would... I didn’t think I could take it. They didn’t need to see this.

Slowly, I took long breaths until I didn’t think I was going to cry. Lucas said nothing. He’d only said my name. That was what had brought me out of the spiral. My wrists were still in his hands. Because I’d tried to hit him.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

Slowly, he released my hands, placing them on my knees. “Did you hit your head when you fell?”

“No.” At least I didn’t think so.

“Anything injured at all?”

I searched my body for any pain, but there was none. At least none that was real. There were still phantoms and flickers that my mind was tricking me with. But there wasn’t anything that I could do about that. “No, I don’t think so.”

“That’s good.” His voice was quiet. Low and smooth so that only I could hear him talking. “How’s work been today? Busy?”

I shook my head. “Pretty average.”

“Average is good. Anything stand out as unusual?”

“Um.” Trying to think was like wading through mud as thick as caramel. “I was kind of clumsy. I almost spilled an entire pot of coffee. The mess would have been bad.”

A small smile. “Then I’m glad you saved it.”

I took another breath, and the panic receded a little more. He was bringing me back to myself. Grounding me. Which meant he’d done this before. He knew how to break someone out of a panic attack. I wasn’t sure if that made him witnessing this better or worse.

“You know,” Lucas said, “I’ve never asked you what your favorite color is.”

I met his eyes again. “Why do you want to know?”

“Humor me.”

“Teal,” I said. “Like the ocean.”

He smiled wide this time. “Like your apron. I’ll remember that.”

I took a full breath, and the adrenaline keeping me tight faded, and I sagged against the back of the counter.

“Evelyn,” Lucas said softly. “You’re in Deja Brew. No one else is here but me, Lena, and Grace. Can you tell me what triggered you?”

Just the thought brought the walls crashing down. The oxygen shred itself in my lungs and I was suffocating.

“Evelyn,” Lucas said again. “You’re still here.”

I was. And he was still here with me. Lucas hadn’t moved, but I had. I’d reached for him in the second wave of panic, the fingers of my right hand grasping his belt and one of the loops of his jeans, like he was an anchor.

He must not have noticed it, because he looked down in surprise, and then back at me. The air between us charged. Something that wasn’t pain crackled in the air, but neither of us moved to break it open.

It wasn’t a conscious thing, reaching for him. But it wasn’t something that I could take back either. A part of me saw him as safe, and he was the closest thing I had. My cheeks flamed in a blush. I couldn’t read the look in Lucas’s eyes, but it wasn’t disgust. Or pity.

“Can you stand?”

I swallowed. “Maybe.”