Page 60 of In Case You Didn't Know

But it won’t.

Maybe nothing will.

Except… maybe someone can.

I pull out my phone. My fingers are already moving.

FRANCIE

The shrill ring of my phone makes me jump. I glance at the screen, expecting it to be a spam call, or Skyler. Or maybe – if I’m really unlucky – Captain Toe Shoes himself.

But it’s Asher. And my heart skips a beat.

Lifting the phone, I slide my thumb against the glass to accept the call.

“Hey,” I say, ignoring the thud of my heart against my chest. “I’m so sorry about the break in.”

There’s no reply. For a second I hear nothing, then heavy breathing. It reminds me of my youngest cousin who has asthma.

“Asher?” I say softly. “Are you okay?”

There’s more ragged breathing, followed by a choked inhale. And then finally – his voice, rough and low, like it’s been dragged through gravel.

“I’m okay,” he manages. “I just… I couldn’t breathe. I?—”

He cuts off with a shuddering breath that sounds so far from okay it isn’t funny.

Oh my God. I’ve never heard him like this before. I sit up straighter, my laptop and writing forgotten. “Where are you? Are you okay? What happened?”

A beat of silence. “I’m outside the hospital.”

And just like that, my lunch starts to rise in my gut. Please let him be okay. “Why are you there? Are you hurt?”

“No.” He inhales sharply. “Not me. One of my employees. He got a head injury during the break in.”

I hate how relieved I feel that it’s not him who’s hurt. “I’m so sorry. Is he hurt badly?” I can’t imagine what that must feel like.

“It’s Shaun.”

I blink. “Shaun who guarded me?” I ask, remembering the tall, young guy who was lurking outside my apartment all that time ago. For some reason it feels like a personal attack.

“Yeah.” He sounds despondent.

My eyes widen. “Wasn’t his wife about to have a baby?”

Asher’s breathing is slowing. But not fast enough. I think he might be having a panic attack. “They had it. A girl. He’s okay.” Another moment of silence. “I’m sorry, I should go. You don’t need to?—”

“Stay,” I tell him. “Stay with me. Talk to me. Try to slow down your breathing. We can do it together,” I tell him. “I know a qualified breath consultant.”

That joke does the opposite of what I intend. He starts to choke.

“Asher?”

“It’s okay. I’m okay.” I’m not sure who he’s trying to convince, me or himself.

“And so is Shaun,” I tell him. “This isn’t your fault. It’s nobody’s fault except whoever hit him.” I take a breath, trying to remember how to deal with a panic attack. There was a girl atschool who used to get them regularly. “You’re okay,” I tell him. “Look around you. Try to find something green.”

“There’s a planter I just vomited in,” he says sounding almost embarrassed. “Will that do?”