The Minutes We Have

chapter twenty-two

Do you think that life is good? 

I wouldn't. It is a dangerous thing because one moment you think you can handle whatever life throws at you, and the next you're left reeling with the realization that it was an illusion. Perhaps when we're too happy is when we're about to experience the worst pain. 

When reality becomes cold and ruthless. 

My heart would not stop beating against my ribs, I feared it would crack the bones that kept it captive. We only waited in the woods until the light--or person--disappeared and nothing moved in the silent night, just as we were frozen in our fear. Only a bullfrog croaked from a distance. 

"Come on," Emerson said at last. 

We cautiously made a beeline for the car. It sat abandoned in the empty parking lot. I hoped it hadn't been flagged as suspicious and someone snagged the license plates--just in case. We shouldn't have been here. We didn't need to witness that. What if our time was dwindling? What if something worse than one bad officer came after us? 

The next thing I knew, I was back in my seat, and Emerson was peeling out of the parking lot. Only the headlights illuminated the late-night road, as we traveled alone in the bleak of night. I kept glancing behind us to make sure we weren't being followed. 

That's how A. Cameron did it. He followed us. 

My chest kept getting tighter and tighter. 

Oh no. 

I couldn't deal with this right now. Not in a car with these boys. Not in front of Ezra. I didn't even know Emerson and Lance that well and now they were going to witness my weakness? It was embarrassing, mortifying. 

My panic attacks just loved torturing me. 

I tried to hide the fact that I was struggling to breathe, and that by trying to act like I wasn't was only making it ten times worse. My head buzzed from the lack of oxygen, I felt light and fluffy and entirely close to passing out as my chest constricted even more. Pain resided in my sternum, dancing over the organ that beat erratically. 

"Jordyn," a voice spoke. It was hazy, far away, and then it was right there. Someone had grabbed my hand. Their voice came again, stronger, "You need to breathe."

I can't, I wanted to stutter. I knew that I needed to but my lungs refused to expand. My body refused to calm. I can't.

"Breathe with me," He brought my hand to his chest and held it there firmly, my palm splayed wide open over the damp t-shirt he wore. I was shaking but he didn't mention it. I focused on the gentle rise and fall of his chest and forced myself to match it. I could even feel his heartbeat. Was he not scared? 

I calmed enough to look at him and his dark eyes were already searching the depths of mine. He must have read something from me. "Come here," He grumbled and tugged my hand. I accepted the invitation and slid across the middle seat until I was against his side. I still trembled but he was strong and still. 

It was instinct to curl into him and he slipped his arm around me. 

I closed my eyes and tried not to think that his friends had just witnessed me at my lowest. Tried not to think that he had. Only Julian had witnessed my panic attacks, and if I had to pick any family member to be vulnerable with, it was Julian. Except Ezra was stubbornly wiggling his way into the softest part of my heart. 

He hadn't been my favorite brother in the beginning. 

I peeked at him. He had turned his head to look out the car window, even though there was nothing to see but inky blackness, but his jaw remained evident with tension. It reminded me of the day he held me after the incident in the alley. Something in me craved for the brotherly affection, even more, when it was rarely shown.