“How dare you!” Jasmine seethes. Her arm extends forward and swipes the contents off the counter before she storms off in the direction of our seats.
I pinch my eyes closed and count to ten, the same technique I use when Belle is having a bad day and pitching a fit. But when I pop my eyes open and see Jordan helping the cashier picking up the strewn napkins and ketchup packets that Jasmine tossed from the counter, I silently pray for the ground to open up and swallow me whole. Now I know how Jordan must have felt all those times I just happened to show up to witness her embarrassment. Well played Karma, you sneaky bitch.
“Ma’am, I’m so sorry she reacted that way.” I drop to my knees to help clean up the mess, but wouldn’t you know my fuckin’ luck, my head collides with Jordan’s.
“Ouch!” she complains, rubbing her head and laughing. I scrape everything on the ground into my hands and stand to my full height, towering over Jo.
“What are you doing here?” My tone is hard and so is my chest.
“I’ll take that, sir, and I’m sorry she’s so upset, but in all the years I’ve worked here, we’ve never served hot chocolate.” The cashier takes the contents from my now trembling hands. “But I’ll get your order. That will be $10.”
“Mad, you okay? Mad?”
I scrub my hand over my face that feels hot and wet and tacky. It’s been a couple months since that panic attack, and I didn’t remember how I felt in the moments before I passed out until right now. In this very moment my hands feel cold but sweaty and are shaking like I’ve deadlifted three-hundred pounds three reps, and my chest feels like a fuckin’ truck is sitting on it.
“Madden!” I feel Jordan’s hand caress my face, the other gripping my hand as she leads me away from the line. My legs feel like jelly with each step that I take, which isn’t far because Jordan swiftly plants me on a bench along the wall. “Sit. I’ll be right back.” She sounds distant, but maybe that’s because she’s walking away. I rest my head in my hands and try to steady my breathing, which feels erratic. Fuck. I pinch my eyes closed and bear down, counting silently to myself; it’s a method my doctor suggested to calm an attack, but I’m so anxious I can’t keep the numbers in order. I feel like I’m going to—
“Madden!” Jordan shouts as I feel my body thrust backward, and she gently rests my head against the wall. My neck suddenly feels cold with the ice pack she’s placed there, and her hands, soft and cool and comforting, are all over my face. “Just breathe. I’m right here with you. Just. Breathe.” She taps my face gently then cups my cheek. “Look at me, Mad, please. I need you to focus.” I force my eyes open, and Jo’s there, inches from my face, her eyes scared but strong and determined. “There you are.” She laughs to herself as she wraps her arms around my shoulders and hugs me to her. It feels like lead weights are pulling my arms down, but I manage to put one around Jo’s back. I inhale a ragged breath and damn … there’s just something about Jordan’s sweet sce
nt that comforts me.
“Miss, do I need to alert the paramedics on site?” I hear someone interject. Jordan keeps one arm around me as she turns toward the security guard.
“No, I think he’ll be okay. He has a history of generalized anxiety, and I think he might have just got a little overwhelmed in the heat.”
He moves closer and looks at me. “That true, sir? You don’t need any medical assistance?”
I shake my head. My throat still feels thick, so words are lodged in there somewhere.
The security guard nods then goes about his business. Jordan’s small hands grip my face as she looks me over, worry and sadness etched in her eyes. “You’re okay?” Her voice is small and scared, and I realize I’ve never seen Jordan look so vulnerable before.
I swallow the knot in my throat and nod. “I-I’m fine, Jo.”
She collapses into my chest and hugs me tight, and there’s something about the way she feels against me, her nose against my pulse point, her breathing my air, that brings me out of the fog. She’s just a friend, Madden. My brain catches up with the moment, and I grunt, clearing my throat.
“I’m sorry.” Jordan pushes herself off me and fidgets with her hands as I stand, evading her space.
“Why are you apologizing? I’m glad you were here.” Fuck. I shake my head to clear the fog that’s smothering me.
“Are you sure?” She looks down at her feet, shuffling in place, seeming defeated.
“Jo, I—”
“You seemed angry when you saw me there in line with you.”
“Just surprised is all, Jo. To be honest, I was actually quite mortified. This is the second date I’ve been on where the woman has had a meltdown and rushed off.” I take my ball hat off and run my fingers through my hair. My breathing is finally slowing, and aside from utter humiliation, I just feel annoyed and tired.
“Thanks for coming to my rescue, Jo. Seriously. I think I’m gonna call it a night. I’ll see you at the gym.” And here’s where I don’t know whether to hug her, give her a high five, or just turn and walk away. I’m not an asshole by any means, so I put my hat on my head and stuff my hands in my pocket, smiling awkwardly. Embarrassed. I’m a grown ass man who can’t even handle a damn date with a beautiful woman without something interfering, and tonight it just had to be my date’s crazy and my anxiety. How fitting, we’re at a baseball game and this date has definitely been a double hitter—to my ego. I give up.
“Call me before your session Monday, Mad.”
“Why?” Yeah, I’m still rooted in my spot, standing here like a dope who doesn’t know up from down. And my voice is gritting and rough, and to Jordan I probably sound pissed. I am, but not at her.
“You need to go home and rest, Madden. Seriously. You just had an anxiety attack, and I know you’re slowly coming down from that adrenaline high, so you don’t need to overdo it. You may need to see your doctor before you return to training.”
“Like hell, Jo—”
The pre-game clock is ticking down, and the teams will take the field soon, so the concession area is crowded with fans getting their snacks for the game. Jordan grabs my arm and wrestles me out of the way of the crowd.