Total pages in book: 187
Estimated words: 174623 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 873(@200wpm)___ 698(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 174623 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 873(@200wpm)___ 698(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
The first beat of the song makes my palms grow sweaty. By the time the first words are sung, I'm trembling, my stomach in knots and threatening to make me sick.
I look down at the radio display, my music app clearly displayed on the screen, removing any doubt that I was somehow on a regular radio station rather than my curated playlist.
My hands shake as I stare at the screen, the possibilities of what this song playing could mean for me.
I have listened to my playlist exclusively for years because certain songs make my skin crawl.
This song, being on my playlist, means very bad things.
I scream when a knock hits my window.
I don't feel any calmer when I see it's the guy who's been purposely following me to work to make sure I'm safe, but I've never felt less safe in my life.
"Unlock the door," he demands, trying to open it but is unable to get in.
I shake my head, realizing I've been sitting here a while, when the next song, one I did add to my list, starts playing through the speakers.
Horns honk, and the sounds of people yelling out their windows as they drive around us filter in.
"Juliet," he says, his voice calm. "Unlock the door."
I pull in a breath. The weight on my chest, which I just thought was lightening, grows heavier than I've felt in a very long time. It feels impossible to breathe.
"Juliet," the man growls, but my fear has nothing to do with him.
I manage to hit the unlock button, and he doesn't hesitate to crouch low, his big body taking up all the space in the open doorway.
"It's a panic attack," he says. "Can you put the car in park, or do you want me to reach over you and do it?"
Instinctively, I grab the gear shift and place the vehicle in park, unsure of how I would react if he touched me while trying to do it.
"Tell us what you need?" comes another voice, and I look past him to see another man I recognize as a Cerberus member from working at the house.
"I want you to step out of the car," the first man urges. "Holler will pull it out of traffic."
I'm shaking, the tremble in my body so bad my teeth chatter despite the heat surrounding us, but I manage to climb out of the car.
Standing somehow makes it harder to breathe, and my first instinct, the one I've forced myself to stop, is to apologize for causing a scene. But when I look up at him, he seems only concerned about me. Like, he doesn't care who might be annoyed or inconvenienced by this episode.
"Strong breath in," he says, pulling a breath. "Slow, controlled breath out."
I follow his instructions, breathing as he does, and it does help a little to orient me back to the here and now.
"I'm going to guide you out of the road," he says, looking for assurance in my eyes before he places a palm high up on my back and urges me to take steps in that direction.
The touch is guiding, not intimate. It doesn't set off alarm bells in my head or make me want to run, and as I continue to pull in deep breaths and calm a little, I know just how out of the ordinary that is.
"I'll move your bike," another man says, and I catch a glimpse of the triple-headed dog on the back of his leather vest as he walks in that direction.
"In and out," he urges, drawing my attention back to him.
Salt coats my tongue, telling me that I'm crying, and I didn't even realize it.
Terror washes over me again, knowing how unsafe it is for me to be out in the open like this, especially when I can't even seem to keep track of time, much less what I'm doing.
"Can you tell me what triggered this?" he asks, but the question only serves to multiply the tremors in my hands.
"Work," I say.
"Work will be there when you're ready," he assures me.
"The song," I say, shaking my head because it's the very last thing I want to think about and certainly not something that's going to help me gain control of myself again. "People are staring at us."
"Let's get you in Holler's SUV. They'll get your car to Juniper House," he says, but the idea of being in another vehicle where there's a chance that song could play makes my blood run cold.
I glance to the side, watching the other Cerberus member climb off the motorcycle.
"You want to ride instead?" he asks, noticing where I'm looking.
"I've never—"
Instead of waiting for me to finish my thought, he moves, grabs the helmet hanging on the backseat rest, and walks back toward me with it in his hand.
"It's going to be a little big, but I won't go fast," he assures me as he lifts it, placing it over my head. "Lift your chin. Don't want to pinch you."