Page 29 of Twisted Trust

I used every cent of my savings to get here three years ago.

Living from dollar to dollar has left me with nothing as a safety net.

I can’t run.

I have nothing left to support us.

I can’t hide.

Levi’s already here.

The street spins and the glaring neon lights above me flare until they’re nauseatingly blinding.

Stumbling backward, I keep going until my outstretched hand hits the wall and I sag against it.

The taste of iron floods the back of my throat while my heart beats faster and faster, but no matter how much I gasp, I can’t seem to get enough air into my lungs.

Is this it?

Have I failed to care for my son?

Failed to provide for him?

Failed to protect him?

Needing to hear his voice, I struggle to get my phone out of my pocket.

It’s like my fingers have turned numb because they’re barely reacting to my urges.

Getting my phone is half the battle because calling Cameron and getting to hear Scott’s voice becomes impossible.

I can’t remember my passcode.

I never trusted facial recognition and until this moment, I’ve never seen a need for it.

“No,” I gasp as darkness encroaches on the edges of my vision. “No?—”

“Maeve, it’s okay.” Someone’s body blocks the blinding lights and their distantly familiar voice gives me something to lock onto as a hand lands on my shoulder and forces me to straighten up. “Chin up. Deep breaths and hold it. Open your chest. That’s it.”

I obey like a robot, unable to think of anything other than following that voice as a blurred face floats in front of my eyes.

A warm hand clasps around my own just in time to stop me from dropping my phone.

I reach for the stranger and sink my fingers into their warm sleeve and grip on.

“Breathe,” they command gently. “In. Out. Follow me. Chin up. That’s it.”

It’s like dragging myself across a sea of pebbles but each breath is slowly getting easier and I can decipher my heartbeats amid the pain in my chest.

In and out.

In and out.

I blink and hot tears tickle my cheeks, but I don’t have the strength to wipe them away. “I’m trying.”

“Try harder.” His voice remains gentle.

I lift a hand and wipe my tears away, ready to give this stranger a piece of my mind about how hard it is for me to breathe, but the moment my eyes clear, Chip’s face comes into focus and I forget all about it.