“Lots of things. Haven’t had one in a long time.”
“What does it feel like right now?”
“Can’t breathe. Heart’s beating fast. Feels like I could die.” I tried to laugh off the last part, but it was hard. “I know it sounds like I’m being a drama queen. When I say that. I just – ”
“I’m informed on panic attacks. I know you’re not being dramatic, ” Julian said sternly as he reached behind me to turn on the faucet. “Stand up and turn around.”
“What?” The look I gave him made him crack a smile.
“I’m not about to fuck you in the middle of your panic attack, Sara, so don’t look at me like that. I want you to run your wrists under the cold water and see if that helps.”
I shut up and did as I was told. I winced and closed my eyes. I could hardly tell if the water was ice cold or burning hot, but to my surprise, it had me breathing again within five minutes.
It also had Julian’s gaze on my scars for about three seconds, but he said nothing, and the silence continued as I finally started moving, grabbing the dress I had worn before Turner insisted on the pool.
It felt far too quiet as I changed out of my bikini in front of Julian.
“You’ve seen everything already,” I said softly as he stood in front of me, his stare directed pointedly elsewhere.
“I’m not interested in getting hard right now, Sara.”
I didn’t question it. I had other things to ask about – namely his trick. I’d gone through dozens of approaches over the years, but Julian’s ice water trick had been by far the fastest in quelling my panic attack.
“Do you get them too?” I asked.
“What?”
“Panic attacks.”
He looked at me. “No.” His eyes traveled over my braless chest as I pulled my dress back on.
“Where’d you learn that trick?” I asked. I ran my hands through my hair but they slowed as I watched Julian’s expression darken. He turned to me, assessing my fully dressed body before nodding toward the door.
“Let’s get you home before Turner realizes we’re still here,” he said.
And that was that.
16
JULIAN
“How is everything so far, gentlemen?”
I didn’t glance up from my phone to answer the waitress. Lukas and Emmett had it covered, and I was vaguely annoyed that she’d just asked the same question thrice in ten minutes. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence when the three of us went out for lunch, but that didn’t make it any more tolerable for me.
I was also particularly on edge thanks to both the content of my texts, and the topic of conversation Lukas and Emmett had been on for far too long now. I could understand up to six minutes on the subject of home décor, but not a second more. It was a miracle that Lukas even had Emmett engaged in stories about furnishing his new home in the Hamptons with Lia. Then again, he was talking about throwing a party in it, so that offered at least some explanation.
“We should be done with everything around Lia’s birthday,” Lukas said. “So it can be a birthday-housewarming combo party.”
“Christ, you sound like you drive a mini van and shit on the refs at your kids’ Little League games.”
“That’s actually the goal at some point, minus the ref abuse,” Lukas smirked. “By the way, you should bring Sara to the party,” he added, looking pleased with the look I directed at him.
“You should stop letting your girlfriend influence the things we talk about.”
“That suggestion was actually all mine, though I won’t deny that Lia’s been rooting for you two to become some sort of thing. Which is strange, honestly, because she loves Sara, but you,” he paused, “not so much.”
“I would say the feeling is mutual, but I’d prefer you not throw a tantrum in public.”