23

Sigh .

I stare at the coffee and bag at my feet, glancing back and forth through the hallway before I stoop to grab them. Blueberry muffins this morning.

I march over and bang on his door. "Yes?" Connor calls from inside his room.

"Take your breakfast back. I don't want it."

"Ah, but you see, last night you told me you'd throw it at me, and I've taken my shower for the morning. As much as I love coffee, I'd prefer to avoid a repeat of yesterday. You understand why I'm reluctant to open the door and become a target." Something an awful lot like disappointment flares in my stomach as I stand there in indecision.

Do I leave it on the floor? That seems like a waste.

"It's just a gift," he says from the other side of the door, his tone infinitely gentle. "Nothing more."

I scoff. "A bribe, you mean."

A quiet, thoughtful hum barely reaches my ears. "Perhaps."

"What are you bribing me for?"

"I want you to talk to me."

"Fuck you."

"You're talking to me now," he points out, and my cheeks burn with anger as I begrudgingly acknowledge he is, indeed, correct. "If I open the door, will you come in and have a civil conversation with no coffee-related incidents?"

"I can't promise that."

He falls silent for a moment, and I shuffle uncomfortably between my feet. "What are my chances of coming away from this clean?"

"Fifty-fifty."

He laughs, a low, rumbling chuckle that almost makes me crack a smile. "I miss you," he says after a few beats of silence, and I recoil, my anger reignited.

"You don't get to say that. You lied to me."

"I could fill a book with the things I did wrong, sweetheart, but I didn't lie to you."

The audacity of this man is astounding. "You were fucking married ."

There's a beat of silence before he says, "I never misled you about that," and he has the brass balls to sound confused .

"Bullshit!" I shout, accidentally dropping the coffee and bag in front of his door and cringing as brown liquid splashes up the wood. Fuck, now I have to clean up the mess because I feel guilty for making it. With a shake of my head, I fix a glare on the peephole, aware that he's monitoring from the other side. "Why don't you ask Beth for her opinion about that?"

A pause, and before I realize what he's doing, the door whips open. "What does that mean?" The sight of his handsome face and his bright, concerned eyes momentarily silences me, so I drop my gaze to break the hypnosis. Now I'm staring at his broad, muscled chest, and that doesn't help.

I say nothing.

"Tai, what are you talking about?" He reaches for me and then hesitates, letting his hand fall limply at his side. I hate myself for the disappointment that settles inside me.

"Never mind," I mutter, turning and walking to my room. He follows, cursing under his breath as he steps on the muffin, paper crinkling under his foot. A spiteful smirk covers my face, but it fades as soon as I try to shut my door and he blocks it.

"Move."

"Tai—"

"I said, move. " He stares at me for a long time, and finally, he nods, retreating a step as I slam the door, letting my back fall against it. My breath comes in jagged, uneven inhales that do very little to fill my lungs. There's a thud against the other side, and I close my eyes and imagine he's leaning against it, just as confused as me.

Inches away, but somehow worlds apart.

Dark clouds pepper the sky as we drive to the airport, and my nerves are jittery in my belly. I hate everything about flying, and when you factor in eight hours soaring above an infinite ocean, it becomes straight torture.

Jenn smiles and greets everyone as we drop our luggage to be stowed. The equipment was loaded last night, so it's just our suitcases that need to be tossed into the cargo bay.

Behind his sunglasses, I can sense Connor's gaze lingering on me. Today, he's wearing a plain hunter green shirt that complements his sun-kissed skin and makes his eyes stand out even more. Paired with his dark jeans, he's effortlessly hot.

Despite myself, a smile tugs at my lips as I remember his Bigfoot shirt. I miss his wild, quirky clothes from the resort.

By the time I make my way on board, Eric and Dmitri have claimed spots in one cluster of seats with Bruce and Aaron, while Theo, Dante, and Monica have settled in another. Theo gestures to the seat across from him, and as I sit, I watch Connor from the corner of my eye.

He glances around for a minute, his gaze fixating on me as it always does, before he makes his way to the vacant group of chairs and settles in next to the window. His forehead rests against the side of the plane, staring outside as the jet's engines rumble beneath us and the runway becomes a blur.

As we take off, my stomach lurches and I grip the armrests tightly, a futile attempt to find a small sense of control. It's not like holding on to a crashing airplane would do anything, but it makes me feel better.

Fuck flying.

Theo pulls a deck of cards out, and we spend the next hour playing rounds of Texas Hold 'em. Despite his frequent suggestions, we do not turn it into strip poker, although the little shit wins almost every time, anyway.

As Theo tucks the deck away into his backpack, he says, "I'm pretty sure Jugs has a crush on you," as casually as though he's discussing the weather.

I do a double take that's probably comical, my mouth hanging open. "Why in the world would you think that?"

Theo shrugs, glancing past me at the man in question before turning back to me. "He stares at you a lot… and that sexual tension? Whew, buddy. Could cut that shit with a chainsaw and it still wouldn't split. Don't kid yourself, Tai, I notice everything… even the two of you getting cozy from time to time."

"I think you've been reading too many of your romance books, Theo. He's straight."

"Spaghetti is straight until it gets wet, and wood warps when it's hot enough." I snort a laugh that draws Dante's attention to our conversation.

"Do I want to ask what we're discussing that's wet and hot?"

"Jugs," Theo says, and then Dante chokes, too. "I was just very innocently mentioning to Tai that I think our big teddy bear has a thing for him. No biggie."

Heat rises to my cheeks, my face burning red as my eyes search for a safe place to land. "Like I said, he's straight. And married. "

"Married?" Dante raises a brow at me. "Where would you get that idea?"

I sit there, mouth agape, struggling to find the right words. "I mean, he is married. He has a wife. He said… I'm positive he said he is."

Dante shakes his head, his eyes narrowing. "Not a chance, man. You wouldn't have heard that from him. It has been years since he and his wife split up, and the divorce was made official a few weeks ago. The process had been taking forever, but he got a wild hair up his ass a couple months back and started pushing the courts. Things sped up after that."

My hand instinctively goes to my chest, where the tightness constricts my sternum. I shake my head, not understanding. "But… he was on the phone with her… I… I heard them talking." It's a feeble lie, but I can't exactly confess how I know her.

"They're still friends," Dante says, dragging out the words. His eyes dig far too deep into mine as he tilts his head in silent observation. "It was an amicable split. She's dating a guy from his gym now—he was the one who set them up a few months back."

My heart pounds against my ribcage, suffocating me, and my ears are filled with a shrill ring as my gaze locks onto Connor. Lost in thought, he absentmindedly stares out the window. A sticky, tangled ball of confused emotions settles heavy in my throat, and I have to try a few times before I'm able to swallow around it.

"Oh," I say, but it comes out in a hoarse whisper.

Both of them stare, bewildered, while a wave of panic closes in on my windpipe. When I try to fill my lungs through my nose, the invisible hand constricting my neck squeezes tighter, and my mouth sags open as I suck in a gasping inhale.

"Tai?" Theo says, and I recoil as he reaches for me. Choking on my own breath, I fight to keep my face composed while tiny white pinpricks dance at the edges of my vision.

Ground myself… I need to ground myself, but as my eyes dart around the cabin, my sight blurs until everything is a hazy blob.

I can't see… can't hear.

Can't think.

"`Scuse me," I wheeze, leaping to my feet and darting towards the rear of the plane, tripping over something and catching myself on the wall as I stagger into the bathroom. I stumble through the door and blindly grab for the sink, guiding myself to sit on the toilet as I gasp for air. Long, rasping inhales fail to deliver oxygen to my lungs, as my vision blurs from a speckled white to a blackness that spreads into the center of my line of sight.

My thoughts are a chaotic mess in my head, and nothing makes sense… nothing makes sense, it doesn't make sense…

I fucked up…

I fucked up…

Oh God, I really fucked up.

Bile rises in the back of my throat, competing with my clamped airway for space when there just isn't any left. I twist and collapse to my knees, hovering over the toilet as I dry heave. My whole body trembles and the ringing in my ears is a shrieking whine. The air is thick as my lungs refuse to work, and I can't breathe.

I wonder if I'll ever breathe again.

Heavy hands land on my shoulders.

There's weight at my back as powerful arms wrap around my torso and a soothing, deep voice breaks through the sirens in my head. "Breathe, sweetheart," Connor whispers. "Let yourself relax, okay? You're alright… you're safe and you aren't alone. I'm here."

I'm here. A sound that might be a sob chokes out of my restricted windpipe.

"Can you feel my chest rise with my breath?" I nod, numb, as I push back against him, trying to focus on the movements of his body. "That's it, just relax. Now, I need you to take a breath for me. We'll do it together, okay? I'm right here and I'm not going anywhere." My attempt sounds like a death rattle as I try to suck in air and only get tiny bursts. "Good, that was good. Rest for a second and we'll give it another shot."

He's steady as he holds me against him, palms stroking my arms. Up and down, they soothe, and the first notch of panic releases its hold on me. "Can you try again?"

His hand lands over my sternum, measuring the rise and fall of my chest with my shallow inhales. "That's great, sweetheart… you're doing so well. Don't worry about anything else, just keep focusing on your breathing. Nothing else matters, okay? Not while I've got you."

Another few shaky breaths give me more control, and he never lets go of me. "Good, that's good," he whispers, hand gliding up and down on my sternum. "Now, our choices are limited in here, but can you tell me five things you see?"

Surprise jolts me enough to take a quick inhale, and I give an abrupt nod. My voice creaks as it comes out. "Soap dispenser, air freshener, towel… mirror… toilet."

"Saved the easiest for last, huh?" He gives a gentle pet to my chest, and I choke on a tiny laugh. My breathing is coming easier now, and I feel some of his tension ease. "Four things you can hear."

"Your voice, the music on the speakers, the wind outside… your voice."

"You said that already," he teases, and I sink back into his body.

"Because it's all I hear," I whisper, and his hand flexes against my chest. The panic has released me from its grip, although my body is still struggling to catch up from the effects of the attack.

The minutes stretch on, and I don't know how long I kneel in front of the toilet with Connor at my back. Slowly, painfully, my lungs pull in the oxygen they need and my breathing steadies. The spots in my vision fade, but the blurriness remains until I squeeze my eyes closed, freeing the tears to streak my cheeks.

My actions are driven by instinct as I turn and find his eyes, unfiltered and overflowing with emotion as he offers me a tiny, tentative smile. I try to speak, but no sound comes from my mouth, so I just tuck my face into his chest and curl into him.

His arms wrap around me, and it's like a boulder is lifted from my chest as the first full breath I've taken in months fills my lungs. Palms holding me against him, he shifts us, sitting himself on the ground and maneuvering me until I straddle his lap with my face still tucked into his shirt.

For a few quiet minutes, his fingertips dance up and down my spine, the steady thump of his heart directly beneath my ear. His hand cups the back of my head and hugs me against his chest, the ghost of a kiss pressing against my temple.

"Are you okay?" he whispers.

"I don't know," I whisper back, and I can hear his rough swallow. He doesn't push me any further, simply sits there and pets me as I soak in his comforting warmth and familiar smell.

Outside the bathroom, there's a loud thump followed by a muffled curse right as the door swings open, revealing Theo's sheepish face. "Hey, uh, guys, I was just checking on… things…"

"You mean eavesdropping?" Connor says, deadpan, and Theo cringes.

"I guess, yeah, okay, maybe." His eyes shift to me. "Tai, are you okay? I was worried about you."

"He's fine," Connor answers for me, causing Theo's eyebrows to shoot up in surprise, and he gives me a meaningful look that tells me he will have endless questions about what he's seeing. "Lock the door behind you, please," Connor says, and Theo nods as he clicks the lock and leaves.

"We can't monopolize the bathroom." My voice is hoarse and tired.

"Sure we can. I'd like to see someone try to make me move." The minutes stretch on in silence, and even though my panic attack has passed, neither of us moves. He continues to hold me until I know I have to speak up.

"Connor?" I say, muffled by his shirt.

"Yeah, sweetheart?" He presses his lips against my hair, and I shut my eyes, melting into the gesture.

"Do you think we could talk?"