Page 27

Always alone.
The shivers turned to tremors as the world shook itself to pieces around her.
Scott lunged toward Abby as her legs collapsed. He caught her, pulling her into his arms, but she thrashed, fighting him off. He sank down with her, afraid to let go but afraid he’d hurt her if he didn’t. The guttural sound of her hiccupping breaths wanted to form words, but he couldn’t understand them.
“Are you hurt? What’s going on?” He half-turned, reaching for his phone before remembering he’d left it on the coffee table in the living room. And who could he call? Cara?
Abby’s nails bit into his arm, his presence her only anchor.
The moment rose up around him, spooling out of control. Scott forced himself to breathe, his body already responding the same way it always did when the pressure and the emotions threatened to overwhelm him on the field. A hundred games had prepared him, the clock running out, a first down, a long throw, or a couple more points to win the game.
“I’ve got you.” He swept Abby into his arms, her gasping breaths punctuating the quiet calm of his voice. “I’ve got you, Abby. I’m right here with you and I’m not leaving.” He carried her into the living room and laid her on the couch, then cradling her hands, pressed them to his chest.
“Breathe with me, Abby. In and out. In and out. Feel that?”
Abby twitched and convulsed, her cheeks pale and the edges of her lips darkening with a bluish-purple tint. Her fingers shook in his, ice cold despite the warmth of his skin.
“C’mon Abby, listen to me. I know you can do it. One deep breath in.”
A jagged sob escaped her lips, and she dragged in a half breath before wheezing it out again.
“Good job. Can you do it again? I’m right here. We’re going to do it together. Ready? Deep breath in...”
Even as he kept his voice steady and calm, a part of him reeled. Should he call for help? Was she sick or dying and he thought some deep breathing exercises could cure her?
Another part of him recognized the burst of adrenaline, the panicky response, and his college coach’s voice echoed in his head.
Calm body, calm mind, Edwards. Don’t look out there, look right here.
It had been his first time starting and they were playing their old rivals. A sea of navy-blue and gold filled the bleachers, the sound deafening, and they were all counting on him. What if he failed them? What if he threw an interception on the first play?
His chest had tightened, his vision narrowing until the uniforms had blurred around him. A dull roar had filled his ears, though whether from the crowd or inside his own head, he couldn’t tell. Then, the clap of a hand on his shoulder.
Breathe, Edwards. Just breathe. It’ll pass. Calm body, calm mind...
“Calm body, calm mind. Just breathe.” He kept his voice low, but Abby’s tremors eased. Her chest rose, then hitched, then rose again as she matched his inhale. He exhaled and though her breath came out ragged, broken, whistling through her pursed lips, still she tried.
“Good. We’re going to do it again, for as long as it takes, okay? Big breath in...”
She came back to herself, like swimming through molasses. One part of her mind gibbered she needed to pull herself together; another cringed away, already humiliated Scott had seen this side of her; another clung to his voice like a lifejacket in a storm-tossed sea.
Breathe, just breathe.
Her litany.
Scott’s voice.
Her eyes were shut. Black. A rainbow of sparkles. Jagged strikes of lightning. The green afterglow. Black again.
Her fingers spasmed. The heat of Scott’s skin against hers. The fabric weave of his shirt. The hard plastic of a button. The pressure of his hands.
She thrashed, her ears straining for the comforting sound of Gen. Scott’s voice, calm and soothing, still droning. Cars passing on the street outside.
The remnants of dinner perfumed the air: garlic and tomatoes. Coffee.
They’d been drinking coffee.
No, that wasn’t right. She’d made the coffee, but then Scott had given her a gift.