Page 16 of Prove Me Wrong (The Sunburnt Hearts #5)

I don’t bother hiding the overconsuming grin that spreads across my heated cheeks. Shutting the door behind me, I lean my back against it, letting out a steady breath as I stare at his neat handwriting.

With a racing pulse, I slide my phone out of my pocket and pull up my messages with him and shakily type one out, being careful not to drop either my phone or the coffee.

ME: Thank you for the coffee. You really didn’t have to.

I sit down on the couch in the living room when my phone dings loudly.

#34: You’re welcome, Grey. Was getting Jade and I one and thought you could use one, too. Took a stab at what you’d like.

My stomach flutters at the idea of him thinking about me. I don’t think I mentioned to him that I have a slight obsession with iced lattes, but somehow, he knew.

ME: And you just happened to know my go-to order?

Sipping on the straw, I watch the bubbles type, disappear and then his message appears, making my skin heat all over.

#34: I may have asked the waitress there.

ME: I’ll have to repay you then.

#34: You never need to owe me anything, Grey.

#34: I just wanted to do something for you, and I hope this makes you happier.

My smile falters, teeth biting down on the plastic straw when those words echo in my mind. ‘ I just wanted to make you happier’ stirs through my brain like a threatening drumbeat.

Gulping down the forming lump wedged in my throat.

Anxiety crawls up my skin like spiders dancing along my limbs as the swirling clouds of torment consume my mind.

Chest quickening, eye clamping shut, breathing increasing, hands beginning to tremble at Ryan’s ghost words that still affect me after three years.

Nobody else will want you now.

No man wants something that’s used like you.

Ryan made me feel comfortable, important and safe. But it was just to gain my trust before he shattered it into a million pieces like a broken vase. I believed him enough to let him manipulate me. By the time I had caught on to what he was doing…

He never did it to make me happier.

It was all a lie.

Thick bile stings in my throat as I feel my hands shaking uncontrollably.

Salty sweat beads form on my temples, and my lashes mash together, fighting off the impending, overwhelming sensation that twists my stomach and riddles my body with distress.

I hate this feeling, like I’m drowning, being swallowed up by the monster inside of me, preying on my weak mind.

I want to be strong, to fight through the dreadful sensation, but I’m not.

I’m weak.

He said so himself.

Phone slipping from my grip, I hear it thud against the floor, but make no move to retrieve it. My entire body is vibrating as acid bites at my tongue, hands going numb, chest palpitations, and breaths gasping for oxygen.

I still have no control over my panic attacks.

The intense pressure builds in my chest as if a car is crushing it.

My breathing becomes so short that I feel as though I can’t suck any air into my searing lungs, as if I might choke right here on the couch.

The drowning feeling becomes unbearable; my head is pushed beneath the surface, cutting off my air supply.

Everything aches, burns and blurs as tears roll down uncontrollably.

I haven’t had an attack in weeks, and I shouldn’t be feeling this way with Noah.

He’s done nothing wrong.

Hyperventilating, my head hangs between my shoulders as my fingernails dig into the couch cushions.

The front door opens and Gran strolls in.

“Mia,” she calls out before her round eyes settle on me.

She rushes over, taking my shaking hands in her firm ones.

“Mia. Breathe.” Her words are calm yet forceful.

I listen to her, trying my best to control my spiralling self when she pulls me into her chest. The scent of roses fills my nose and tears slip out of my eyes as I choke on sobs.

“What happened?” Her wary tone shakes a little as I tremble in her grip.

I sniff loudly. “Noah wrote something. Something that—” More tears flood my cheeks, sliding down my neck.

I hear her swallow before asking, “What did he say?”

“He wanted to make me happier,” I wheeze out. “Ryan would say that when he—” A choke breaks my words. “When he?—”

“Shh.” Gran pulls me impossibly closer as I fall apart in her arms. I can’t bring myself to tell her.

He’d say it after assaulting me, blaming me, saying that he did it to make me happier…

Now look at me.

I swallow and shake my head against her neck. “I’m not ready,” I say, voice cracking. My face is pushed up against her warm chest again and a hand rubs circles on my back. “I can’t do this, Gran.”

“Do what, dear?”

Sniffing again, I murmur, “I can’t let him in. Wh-what if he does something?”

Sinnett’s words crowd my mind, reminding me that most athletes aren’t honest men. That there’s only a few good ones.

What if Noah plays me like Ryan did? Do I really think he’d do such a thing to me? Honestly, I don’t, but I really can’t trust anyone anymore.

I sob again, hot tears trailing down my cheeks as Gran cradles me in her arms.

“You’re stronger than you think, Mia. You can’t let Ryan win like this.”

I repeat those words in my mind as I slowly get my breathing under control. It’s shaky and wheezy, pulse rattling my bone marrow. I dig my nails into my hands to pull myself from the pressure, cutting through the skin they’re so tight.

Ryan is winning every time I panic. Every time I think that I’m not good enough, or that I’m too broken inside, it’s like I am telling him that he was right.

No man wants something that’s used like you .

“What if Noah does something?” my raspy voice whispers out, and I wipe discharge from underneath my nose. “What if he’s not being honest?”

Gran kisses my forehead, and I'm grateful to have her in my life. I can’t imagine ever being like this with my mum. “He won’t do anything, dear. I’ve known him for years. He’s patient and kind. Noah wouldn’t lie to you; he’s nothing like Ryan.”

Nodding, I continue to sob as I repeat those words in my head until I finally feel like it could be somewhat true.

He’s nothing like Ryan.

He’s nothing like Ryan.

He’s nothing like Ryan.