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“Who’s leaving?” Stasi moves closer, an arm outstretched that makes me scoot closer to the door, and thankfully it’s enough to make her think better of it.

“Aiden,” I say between too-quick breaths. The panic swirling inside me doesn’t care that I don’t actually need to breathe,it’s just leaning into muscle memory. My airway constricts; my lungs are tight. These drowning sensations have become far too familiar.I’ve spent so much of these last few months underwater.

With careful movements, she comes closer. My breathing shallows further, the chaotic rasping is ear-shattering. Preparing for her to grab at me, my shoulders tense, but she surprises me again by sitting on the floor. Slowly I drag my gaze over my shoulder, watching her as she folds her hands in her lap.

“What—”

“Turn around.” Her voice is low and steady, all of the usual sharpness filed down. “You’re having a panic attack. You need to find your center.” Something about the uncharacteristic tranquility she’s radiating has me following her instructions, one leg folding under another as I sit across from her.

“Put your arms across your chest like this.”

I lean back instinctively, but Stasi doesn’t reach for me. Instead, she demonstrates on herself and I copy her.

“Good. Now, inhale deeply; try to get to five. If you can’t, it’s okay; we’ll work up to it.”

One. Two. Three.I fail my first attempt as the sucking rasp starts again.

“One,” she says, encouraging me to try again. This time I get to four before my lungs clench tightly. It takes two more times, but I finally get there. The old familiarity of achievement soothes something deep inside me; it’s enough to help me get a grip on my breathing.

“Good.” She smiles and this time, it isn’t that knowing Cheshire cat grin, it’s soft and warm, filled with relief. “Repeat after me, ‘I’m safe. Everything is going to be okay.’”

“I’m safe.” I take five more breaths. “Everything is going to be okay.” With each breath, calm spreads through my body. For a few minutes we simply mimic each other.

But it’s not long before shame overshadows that peace, a warm summer’s day ruined by the humidity. “I’m sorry.” Knees pulled up to my chest, I fold in on myself, attempting to disappear.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

I expect a condescending remark, but mercifully, she lets it go.

Exhaustion descends on me as my body attempts to regulate. “Can I sit here for a little bit?”

“Sure.” Stasi stands and walks to the other side of the room. “If you don’t want to be alone tonight, you can stay here.”

That’s…unexpected. “Why are you being nice to me?”

“I know you desperately want to paint me as some heartless monster, but I hate to break it to you, I’m not. I’m not one to turn my back on someone when they need me most.” There’s an edge in her words that takes me by surprise.

“Right. Well, there’s only one bed . . .”

“Wow, what an astute observation. No wonder you were on the Dean’s List.” She beams with sarcasm.

“How did you—”

“Anyway, what about it?”

“Shouldn’t one of us take the couch?” I eye it uncertainly. I haven’t slept out here since high school, but I could barely stretch out on it back then.

“I mean,youare welcome to it. I’ll be sleeping up here.”

I eye her skeptically.

“You’re worried I’m going to what? Touch you?” She scoffs. “You’re safe, Crybaby. Grieving isn’t really a turn-on for me. If you’re really that worried about it, we can put pillows between us. Your mom certainly has enough on that mountain.”

With a harsh swallow, I look from her to the bed, then back again.

“Scout’s honor I won’t even think about laying a finger on you.” She holds three fingers up, and I can’t help but squirm as Iremember where they were when I first came in here. It feels like hours ago but that tingling feeling in my stomach comes back. I hurry over to the bed and busy my mind as I pull back the comforter and rearrange the pillows to create a clear divide.