Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 60726 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 304(@200wpm)___ 243(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60726 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 304(@200wpm)___ 243(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
“Gideon, we’re almost there,” I urged. “Focus on me—or look at the store over there.”
“I—” He flinched again and came to a full stop. “It’s too much.”
“I know, hon. Let me guide you to the benches, okay? Just a few seconds.”
He sucked in a breath and nodded once.
I had to think fast. He was gonna panic if he didn’t get away from all the noise and the movement, but it was a struggle to make him budge at all. The nearest bench was ten or so feet away, and I had to almost shove him there.
Fuck, what would Anthony do? He’d dealt with students’ meltdowns.
How could I create a safe bubble or whatever?
I could only think of one thing.
“Here, sit down. One leg on each side.” I managed to get him to sit down on the stone bench, and then I hiked one of his legs over it before I straddled the bench myself.
“This isn’t n-normal,” he gritted out and screwed his eyes shut. “Fuck.”
First time I heard Gideon swear, and it was because I’d pushed him too far. Fucking great.
“Adults don’t sit like this, N-Nicky,” he insisted.
“Fuck being an adult, then.” I scooted closer and hitched my legs over his thighs. The water bottle ended up slightly behind me. At the same time, I dug out my earbuds and my phone from my jacket pocket. “Let’s shut out the world, shall we?”
He let me insert one of the buds.
I took the remaining bud and picked my latest playlist. Conveniently one with love songs that I’d selected because of the man in front of me.
A slower pop song about new love in New York started playing, and I popped the collar of his coat to provide somewhat of a barrier.
“It’s just us here.” I pressed our foreheads together and dropped my phone between us. “We’re the only ones who matter right now. Just us. And the song.”
His rapid breaths misted in the air, and I did what I could to encourage slower breathing. I snuck one hand inside his coat and placed it on his hip where he could feel my fingers tap out the beat of the song, in hopes his breathing would match it. Wait, fuck, was the beat too fast? It was too fast. Christ, I was an idiot.
I hurriedly picked up my phone and scrolled—perfect. One of the latest-played songs was not only slower, but it had something Gideon had asked for.
I pushed play on the recording of Anthony and me playing “Cages,” a song in which I sang almost as much as he did. My brother on the piano, me on the guitar, singing about failed expectations, searching in the darkness, and fighting uphill battles.
The song flooded my senses, and I slid my hand up his chest instead, making sure I didn’t press too hard. I tapped the slow beat over his pounding heart and gently nudged him to rest his forehead on my shoulder instead. I’d close my jacket around him if I could.
“That’s you,” he rasped. “It’s your voice.”
I nodded and kissed him behind his ear. “Try to breathe with the beat.”
He shuddered.
Halfway through the song, I thought I could detect the slightest improvement, so I put the song on repeat for now.
I kept my cheek pressed to his ear, reckoning it blocked out some of the outside noise, and rubbed his neck absently.
“Your voice is soothing,” he muttered. “Anthony’s is more…tortured.”
Fitting word.
“I’m quite partial to y-yours, but I might be biased.”
I smiled against his skin. “Bias is underrated.”
He choked a little laugh that almost sounded like a whimper, and it slashed worry through me. I inched back enough to be able to see his face. Motherfucker. A tear was rolling down his cheek, and I wiped it away with my thumb.
I hugged him to me and cursed myself to the fiery pits of hell. Why the hell had I brought him here?
“I shouldn’t have pushed you to do this, Gideon. I’m so fucking sorry. It won’t happen again.”
“Stop it.” He gathered my hands against his chest, and I felt that his heart had slowed down significantly. “Anxiety and panic won’t kill me, Nicky. I’ll take a panic attack every day of the week if I don’t have to go through it alone. You’re the f-first one who…” He sucked in a breath and trailed off.
As much as I itched to hear the rest of that sentence, he needed to cool it. He was just calming down. Talking could wait.
“Focus on breathing,” I murmured. “Do you want some water?”
He shook his head. “I want to go back to your place. And I want chocolate.”
I chuckled silently. He was coming back to me. “Okay. Here’s what we’re gonna do. You put both earbuds in, and we’ll pick some metal you like. Then I’ll guide you over to Godiva.”