I needed to get out of here.
Sliding off the counter, I gripped it for balance as the room spun a bit, making me realize that in the absence of adrenaline, I was actually hungry. My stomach tightened as I shook it away, feeling that crawling sensation running over my skin that was a tell-tale sign of a panic attack.
“Angel?” Stratton’s voice had me looking up to find him in the doorway of the bathroom, his eyes filled with concern as they ran over me.
“Hey.” I offered a tight smile and walked towards him, not looking at the scale, afraid he would see through me. “I couldn’t decide if I was too lazy or not to take a shower.”
That was a thing, for the record. It was also a thing when I was in this state of mind. My anxiety was crippling enough sometimes that brushing my teeth was considered a feat. It didn’t last more than a few hours at that level usually, but it could absolutely wreck my day, and I felt sometimes I was at the mercy of my brain and the thoughts it produced. Like I didn’t have control over the direction they went. That I couldn’t figure out a way to stop thinking… about everything.
In this case, food.
“You didn’t eat much at dinner,” Stratton pointed out softly, my cheeks turning pink because I knew that he would notice. Sometimes I thought he was nearly as watchful as Yates… although the man would probably be offended by that.
“Do you want something else? We can make a smoothie or something.” His eyes were a deep ocean blue, filled with enough affection that it made me feel like I couldn’t breathe, the weight of how close we were settling in my chest.
What I loved the most? He wasn’t trying to force a conversation about it. Then again, Stratton had always been a ‘fixer.’ It shouldn’t have surprised me that this was the way he was handling what I am positive he already knew about my problem.
“A smoothie doesn’t sound bad,” I admitted, meaning that.
“Come on.” He squeezed my hand, leading me away from the scale as I tightened my grip in his rough one.
“Thank you,” I whispered softly, almost hoping he wouldn’t hear it. It wasn’t an outright admission, but it was pretty darn close.
“I am always going to take care of you, Dahlia.” His words were soft and sounded almost like a vow as I leaned into him, not knowing how to respond. Not knowing how to deal with the tidal wave of need I felt for this man.
I wanted Stratton to take care of me, and when I looked up at him, the look in his blue gaze told me that more than anything, he needed it. For whatever reason, Stratton Lee needed to take care of me. The craziest part?
I was absolutely going to let him.