Page 34

Maternity clothes are actually the ugliest things on the planet.

Seriously, Jade and I have been shopping for the last hour, trying to find something remotely cute for me to wear to family dinner tomorrow, and there hasn’t been a single thing worth spending my money on.

I’m tired of living in sweats and leggings. I miss my jeans.

“You’re just going to have to get something,” Jade says. She’s sprawled out on the uncomfortable-looking wooden bench in the dressing room, looking like she’s ready to burn this entire store to the ground. I don’t even blame her.

“It’s all horrible.”

Jade rolls her eyes. “You’ve mentioned that a time or two.”

“Maybe Cheyenne’s next hobby will be sewing, and she can make me some maternity clothes.”

Cheyenne has always had a wide range of interests, which she blames on her ADHD.

She hyperfocuses on a hobby for weeks at a time, buying everything she could possibly need for it, only to give it up a few weeks later.

It’s why her house looks like the inside of a craft store, just much, much less organized.

Jade snorts and moves the pile of clothes from her lap beside her to the bench. “Good luck with that.” She pauses for a moment. “Have you talked to Cheyenne…since everything?”

I smooth my hands down the legs of the jeans I’ve been trying on, avoiding her gaze and looking at my reflection in the mirror. “No. I don’t know how everyone feels about me.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see her expression soften, and I don’t love it. I don’t like feeling pitied, and it immediately makes my hackles rise, but I force myself to push them back down. I’m working on being vulnerable more often.

It sucks.

“Els, the Jenningses could never be mad at you,” Jade says, catching my gaze in the mirror.

I swallow, my throat feeling thick, and force myself to hold her gaze. “That’s easy for you to say. You’ve always been a part of their family, and you’ve never done anything to jeopardize that.”

I wish my voice didn’t sound so small, that she couldn’t decipher how much this has bothered me.

“You haven’t done anything to jeopardize that either,” she says softly. “You have to know there’s nothing that you could do to make them not love you.”

All at once, my patience feels frayed. I’m hot, and these pants are both too tight and too loose at the same time. There are so many thoughts in my head, all vying to push to the forefront, and I feel like the room is closing in on me.

And then I realize what’s about to happen. That familiar, cloying anxiety clenches at my spine and grips my lungs, making it hard to breathe.

Jade’s eyes widen, concern etched in every line of her face. “Elsie, what’s wrong?”

I don’t remember moving, but suddenly, my back hits the wall, and I slide down it, clutching at my chest that feels too tight. Beside me, Jade drops to the floor, her hands all over me.

“Elsie,” she says, sounding panicked enough to clear the fog closing in on me, just a little.

“I’m okay,” I manage to get out. “Panic attack.”

My breath comes in loud, horrifying gasps, and I force myself to close my eyes, to let the darkness comfort me.

“What can I do?” she asks, voice high with worry.

I shake my head, unable to form any more words, and let the shaking take over. I was so hot a moment ago, but now I’m freezing, my teeth chattering. I force myself to breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth, trying to calm my breathing.

Still, nothing is working.

But then Jade wraps her arms around me, holding me tight.

She doesn’t say anything, but she rocks us back and forth on the dirty dressing room floor.

And something about the tightness of her grip, the gentle swaying of our bodies, cuts through panicked haze.

I don’t know how long we sit like that, but slowly, my teeth stop chattering, and the uncontrollable shaking of my body eases.

I’m left with that hauntingly familiar hollow feeling in my gut, my head pounding. But I don’t feel alone . Just like the time Beau was with me, when he sat with me in that doctor’s office parking lot, I don’t feel the aching loneliness.

Jade eases back from me, her green eyes assessing me.

They remind me of the trees outside, the ones that stay green even during the harsh Montana winters.

They’re steady, constant. Jade is like that, too, and just like I did with Beau, I’m wondering why I hid this from her for so long, why I didn’t lean on her when she’s like those trees outside, steadfast and unmoving.

“You okay?”

I nod, and the movement makes the pounding in my head intensify.

She watches me closely, and I think she knows my answer was partly bullshit by the way I wince when I nod. “C’mon, let’s get out of here.”

Jade stands first and helps me up, and to my surprise, she helps me out of the fugly maternity pants and back into my leggings, the only thing that’s fit me for the last few weeks.

I’m still shaking as she does it, but it’s more of a chilled, weak sort of shaking, the kind that always follows my panic attacks.

She gathers our stuff, and I follow her out of the dressing room to where she drops off all the stuff I’m not purchasing and then out of the store.

The sunshine immediately warms my chilled skin, and I stop, just wanting to bask in it for a moment, my face lifted to the sky.

Jade doesn’t ask what we’re doing, just stops beside me, her shoulder pressed against mine, her face also lifted like a sunflower arcing toward the sun.

We stand there, side by side, until my breathing finally returns to normal and the sun eases the last of the cold lingering on my skin.

When I finally turn back to Jade, she’s watching me, but it doesn’t feel as overwhelming as it did in the dressing room. It feels strangely…comforting to know that she just saw me at my worst and isn’t acting any differently.

“Ready?” she asks.

I nod, then I follow her to her truck and we hop in.

The second she turns it on, Chris Stapleton croons from the speakers, and I settle back into my seat, rolling down my window.

I’ve never felt like this after a panic attack—safe.

And that’s how I feel now, riding down the road in Larkspur with the windows down and my best friend behind the wheel, the smell of wildflowers and grass and mountain air filling the cab.

She pulls the truck into a parking spot on the main street in town, right in front of the Canteen, a little café in town.

“What are we doing here?” I ask when she turns off the car.

She shrugs and opens the door. “I’m hungry.”

I don’t really feel like being around people right now, especially people in town, but I can tell Jade isn’t in a mood to be argued with, so I suck it up and climb out of the car on still shaky legs.

When we walk through the door, a bell chimes, alerting everyone to our presence.

I can feel the stares of the other diners, the smiles they give Jade and the barely restrained contempt they reserve for me.

I’m shrinking in on myself little by little, but Jade doesn’t seem to notice, her eyes fixed on the menu written on the wall above the counter.

“I don’t know if I want a burger or a salad,” she murmurs, lost in her own head as I try to ignore the stares of the people around us, my skin burning with embarrassment.

I want to leave. I want to get takeout and eat it on my couch, away from all these people who loathe me for something I blame myself enough for already.

“What are you getting?” Jade asks, ripping my attention away from where it’s fixed on my sneakers.

“What?”

Her expression changes, eyes narrowing, as if she can read the emotions on my face. I hate it. I may have felt safe earlier, but right now, I want to hide. My eyes burn and my throat feels thick. I feel out of control, too bare to anyone who takes a second glance.

“Order me a burger and sweet potato fries. I’m going to the bathroom.”

I slip away before she can ask what’s going on, feeling everyone’s eyes on me as I head down the hall and into the bathroom.

The door clicks shut behind me, loud in the silence, and I lean back against it, head pounding.

I still feel frail from the panic attack, my body stuck somewhere between fight and flight.

No part of me wants to go back out there, to the stares, to Jade’s all-knowing gaze.

Deep in my stomach, the baby moves, stronger than she was even a few weeks ago, and I press my hand to try to catch it. There’s a little kick, faint, against my palm. So faint, I think I must imagine it, but then it comes again, and my heart stops in my chest.

I lift up my shirt, staring at the now rounded bump, looking for movement, but there’s nothing there.

It’s like she wanted to let me know she’s here for just a moment when I need her.

It gives me a strength I’m not sure I possess, and I swallow down my fear before turning and heading back out of the bathroom, ignoring the looks shot my way.

Jade is already at a table, a laminated paper number clipped to a table marker. She has her phone in her hand, and I imagine she’s adjusting her bolus before the food arrives. Her eyes find me as soon as I exit the restroom, watching me as I walk across the restaurant to where she’s sitting.

As soon as I sit down, she asks, “What’s going on?”

I let out a little breath that ruffles my long grown-out bangs and meet her stare. “What do you mean?”

Her face flattens and she lifts a brow. “Seriously?”

I can feel eyes on us from around the restaurant, the stares of other patrons making me feel like a bug stuck on a Styrofoam board. I don’t want to have this conversation here, but I know she’s not going to drop it.

“That was a panic attack,” I say, so quietly she has to lean forward to hear me. “I’ve been having them since I was a kid.”

Her brow furrows, confusion clouding her features. “Really?”