Page 51 of The Crafting Con

She lifts her head, her wide-eyed gaze meeting mine. Her hand clutches my bicep, and her voice comes out in raspy bursts as she says, “I think I’m… having… a panic… attack.”

Damn. What am I supposed to do? Pretty much everything I know about panic attacks comes from TV shows and movies, not actual, real-life experience.

Stay calm. If you panic, it’ll only make things worse.

I take a deep breath and force myself to relax.

When in doubt, google and hope the results aren’t complete crap.

“It’s okay.” I pull out my cell and do a quick search for how to work someone through a panic attack. Remaining calm is first on the list. I take another breath, bolstered by the fact that my instincts seem to line up.

Assure the person the attack isn’t dangerous, and that it’s only temporary. Guide them to take deep breaths, counting to five on each inhale and exhale.

I keep my voice as steady as possible while I repeat the steps to Ava, breathing along with her. Her grip on my arm loosens slightly, her breath evening out bit by bit. Her eyes still have a wild, spaced-out look to them, so I continue to scroll, moving on to grounding techniques.

“Tell me five things you can see,” I say, watching her face as she blinks back at me.

She swallows, gaze darting about. “I see… trees. A paved trail.” A pause, another breath in and out. “Dandelions. Your bike.” Her gaze shifts back to my face, softening. “Green eyes.”

My heart flips, and I have to focus to keep my breathing steady. “Good. Now tell me four things you can touch.”

She takes a shuddering breath and presses her palms to the ground. “Grass between my fingers.” They curl, digging into the earth. “Soil.” Another breath, this one slow and steady. Her shoulders relax. I can almost feel her heartbeat slowing. Her eyes close, head tipping back. “Sun on my face.” They flutter open, meeting mine, and I have to physically stop myself from leaning over and kissing her right then and there. She lifts her hand and lightly clasps the front of my hoodie. “Fabric, soft and warm.”

It’s my heart that’s racing now, and no amount of measured breathing seems to slow it. All I can do is hold myself still while she leans in, forehead dropping to rest on my shoulder. She lets out a soft sigh, and I wrap my arms around her as she melts into my hold.

“Thank you for coming,” she whispers.

My arms tighten. “I’ll always come when you need me.”

She burrows against my chest. “I should have just gone to your house like I planned. Then you wouldn’t have had to come racing out here. Sorry.”

“It’s all good. I’ve been meaning to dust off the old bicycle anyway. Driving everywhere is making me soft. I mean, just look at these calves. Twigs.” She lets out a laugh that makes me feel like I’ve won a marathon, and I release my hold when she pulls away, pretending to examine my calves. I tug the bottom of my pant leg up to my knee and make a face. “Have you ever seen such a pathetic sight?”

She grins, and I rejoice at the returning color in her face. “I don’t know, they look pretty cut to me.”

“Hmm.” I twist my leg from one side to the other. “How do I know you’re not just buttering me up so that I’ll give you a ride back on my pegs?”

“Your bike has pegs?”

“Obviously. How else do you think Hiro got me to haul him around places before we turned sixteen?”

“So dependable, even in your youth.”

“A generous take, but I’m pretty sure the word you’re looking for is pushover.”

“Not even. You’re a good friend. Hiro’s lucky to have you as one.” Her smile softens, her voice growing serious. “I know I am.”

You could have me as more than just that. You could have it all. I push the words down, resisting the urge to pull her back into my arms. This is neither the time nor the place for confessions. Not when she’s already in a vulnerable state. I study her face, reassuring myself that she seems mostly recovered before asking, “The panic attack. Have you ever had one before?”

She shakes her head. “Never.”

I tilt mine. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

She hesitates. “I know I probably should, but… maybe not just yet? I’d rather just go back to your house and finish the dagger prep for Saturday. Maybe watch some One Piece? If that’s okay with you.”

“You had me at dagger prep.” I stand, brushing bits of grass from my jeans before holding out my hand. “Come on. I’ll give you a lift on those sweet pegs.”

“Ooh la la. What an offer.”