He smiled, revealing deep dimples on his cheeks. “We’ll get you a soda, then. Come on.” He held out his hand, and for a second, I met his gaze, his amber eyes all warm and golden as if they were inviting me to trust him. And for some reason, I did.
I took his hand and followed him as we threaded our way through the crowd. There was no need to look around to know everyone was looking at me. I could feel the stares burn through the back of my skull like I was naked under the spotlight of curious eyes. Like Andrew had said, what happened with Oakley was dinner table gossip. I was dinner table gossip. Imagine if everyone knew I was pregnant, and the father of my baby upped and left like a fucking thief in the night. Like I meant nothing to him. It would take me to the top tier of pathetic, especially in the superficial world we lived in where the size of your house determined the level of influence you had in this town.
Andrew led me toward the bar, waving at familiar faces as we passed by. The air smelled like alcohol and burning hormones. I had been to enough of these parties to know that half these people would end up in a dark corner somewhere fucking like the world would be coming to an end tomorrow.
The sound of laughter and clinking glasses resounded around us. People spoke louder and louder as the crowd grew. It was weird to think that there was a time in my life not too long ago when I liked being a part of this scene. A time when I flourished at parties just like this one.
Finally, we managed to break through the crowd and he let go of my hand before slipping in behind the bar, grabbing a soda from the see-through glass refrigerator. He was gentlemanly enough to pour it into a glass and winked when he placed it down in front of me. “We wouldn’t want to stir up any more gossip than there already is.”
Oh my God. Did he know?
Of course he didn’t. How could he? I only found out that afternoon and am still processing it.
I smiled, appreciating Andrew’s effort to hide that I wasn’t drinking alcohol like the rest of the guests. The last thing I needed was more gossip linked to my name.
“So, tell me. Does you coming out tonight mean that Sienna Whitlock is back?”
“Careful now. I might start thinking you missed me around the party scene.”
“Maybe I have.” He shot me a roguish grin. “You’re hard not to miss.”
Was he flirting with me? I mean, yeah, we kind of hit it off at the last party Silas had at our house, the night Noah and I ended up in my dad’s cellar. If it wasn’t for my insane attraction to Noah, I’d probably have hooked up with Andrew that night.
Now, in hindsight, I would have been better off if I had turned all my attention to the guy with the pretty face rather than the man who ended up breaking my heart.
The music grew too loud and pounded through the marble floor. My hands trembled, my head throbbing as if it might explode with every beat. I placed my hand on my elbow and felt my skin ripple under the sound waves.
“You okay?” His studied me with a worried look on his face.
“Yeah, I’m just...” My vision flickered, and my heart seemed seconds away from tearing through my throat. I swallowed hard. “I’m just feeling a little claustrophobic.”
“Come on.” He wrapped an arm around my shoulder. “Let’s get you some fresh air.”
The faces of people blurred into unrecognizable shapes, and I struggled to keep my eyes open as Andrew led me out of the house and into the warm night.
I sucked in a breath, smelling the night air and allowing it to fill my lungs. My head felt light, and I stumbled backward when Andrew caught me before I could fall. He pressed his body against mine to hold me up.
“I’m so dizzy.” My hands were shaking as I covered my face. “I can’t…I can’t breathe right. I don’t know what’s happening to me.”
“I know a panic attack when I see one. You need to focus on taking one breath at a time.” He let go of my waist and placed his hands on my shoulders. “Sienna, look at me.”
“I can’t...I can’t breathe.” Panic stirred, and my pulse raced impossibly fast.
“You’re okay. Just take one deep breath after the other.”
I placed a palm against my chest, feeling every breath of air get trapped at the bottom of my throat. “I can’t—”
“Sienna, look at me.” He jerked my shoulders. “Look at me!”
My eyes flitted up to meet his gaze.
“You’re okay, I promise. You just need to control your breathing.”
My skin was cold and clammy while my palms burned, and I tried to focus while struggling to keep my eyes on him. The world around me spun so fast I could feel nausea gripping my stomach tight while my lungs struggled to expand. I could hear the thump of my wildly beating heart pounding between my ears, my legs threatening to collapse beneath me, all the while my thoughts frantically jumped from one clusterfuck to the other.
Oakley.
The trauma.