I felt like I was going to melt right here on this couch; become one with the cushions forever.
Then I pulled him into another hug, and I felt, strangely, relief flood through me.
We stayed like that for a while, just holding each other.
“Solid,” Adam whispered.
“Solid.”
After that night, things got better. Adam began texting me what he was doing more often at the precinct, and I thanked him for every detail. Though much to my dismay, it did little to whittle the fears that splintered through my soul. Whenever I heard an ambulance roar down the street, I still felt the fear take control of my body.
I threw myself into my work, cutting and sewing and reworking the fabric endlessly under the watchful eye of Professor King. It was the one thing I had control over.
Everything seemed okay — not great, but okay — until Friday. It was the Friday before Adam and I were supposed to go to the munch and meet other members of the BDSM community. New York’s soundscape decided to morph into an auditory monster, shaking the building with the sounds.
I thought I would be okay — I had my phone on the table, open to a meditation app.
Breathe in, breathe out.
I watched the rotating cube shrink and expand with my lungs.
Breathe in, breathe out.
I was in control. I had this. I could handle anything the world threw at me—
The whirring of an ambulance, followed by police sirens, followed by the honking of firetrucks sounded right outside the classroom window.
My paper-thin cocoon of control ruptured, and the sensation was something I could only describe as leaking out of myself. It was like my insides were so twisted up with fear that they’d turned to mush. I had to fight to keep it inside instead of letting it leak from every single one of my pores.
I snatched my phone off my desk and bolted out of the classroom, longing for a quiet room or something nearby.
Somewhere I could hide. Somewhere I could convince my brain that I was safe.
That Adam was safe.
I peered at my phone, and thankfully there was a text from Adam there, checking in.
I’m still at the office, doing paperwork about some deadbeat. What are you up to?
Bless his heart. He knew the city was noisier today, so he made sure to check in with me every fifteen minutes or so.
Hell, he was so generous and caring that he had probably convinced his boss to let him stay in the precinct today, doing paperwork.
I frowned. Adam hated doing paperwork.
The memory flashed before my eyes of Adam looking so happy and fulfilled when we were in his cop car, peeling down the country roads in our hometown.
He was happiest when he was on the hunt. And because of me, he was stuck in a boring office all day.
Was I limiting him? Was he sacrificing his career for me?
I looked down at my shining silver engagement ring and wondered if Adam looked down at his and saw a tiny handcuff.
Like always, I felt the worry swell within me, threatening to swash over the edges of its container.
Luckily, I found an empty classroom and shut the door.
This space was more insulated than the other classrooms — as soon as the door closed, there was a comforting silence.
I focused on my breathing for a bit, and then my phone vibrated.
With excitement, I thought it might be another text from Adam. Instead, it was a call from an unknown number.
Nothing was worse than calls from unknown numbers to people with anxiety. Who could it be? Someone calling to tell me everyone in my family was dead? The American Red Cross telling me I was sick, that they found out from my last blood donation? That Parsons had decided to withdraw my acceptance?
Even though I reasoned all of these ridiculous thoughts away, they still simmered on the back burner. It was like my brain was waiting for when I was weakest before it would jump out and attack.
My phone vibrated again.
Gritting my teeth, I closed my eyes and pictured Adam’s face last night.
“Solid.”
And that was enough to instill the bravery I needed to answer the phone.
“Hello?”
A motherly female voice answered, “Luke DuPont?”
“This is him,” I said, my heart in my throat.
“This is Cathy at Dr. Brinkman’s office,” she said, her voice sounding a little excited like she had a goodie waiting for me. “Do you have time to meet today? An appointment slot just opened up.”
I felt my fears cage me like a canary as the thoughts stuck their needles into my skin:
Today? I wasn’t planning on having to talk to someone new today. I thought that I wouldn’t have to meet Dr. Brinkman for a few weeks. Now he’ll get to see what a mess I am, and he’ll hate me right off the bat, and reject me as a patient—
“Luke?” Cathy asked in that motherly tone. “Dr. Brinkman can’t wait to meet you! Can you stop by today?”
She was so gentle. So nice.
I felt acceptance rush through me.
“Yes. Today is perfect,” I said, looking out the window to see a pair of ambulances chase each other down the street. “What time?”
Adam
“You alright, Big Guy?” Claire asked as she walked into the station, the sudden warm air flushing her cheeks.
“Enjoying the warmth in here,” I lied, highlighting something on the annoying form on my table. The sound of fluttering papers and hurried rustling chattered around us.
“I was worried Sarge would keep you on paperwork all day. And I can’t just babble at Chua all day— all he does is stare out the window.”
“That’s exactly what I do,” I pointed out.
“Ugh! It’s different!” She said, running her hands through her brown locks. “I want
