Page 78 of Dissolving Prejudice

Asshole.

But as seconds passed and he still didn’t so much as move a muscle, I realized something was wrong. “Camilo?” I asked and stepped closer, my heart beating faster when I noticed the hollow look in his eyes. I reached for his hand, but he didn’t respond, and I saw he was shaking. Literally shaking. Unsure of what was happening, I pushed my nerves aside and came to stand in front of him. “Camilo?” I placed my palm against his cheek. He was sweating, like, really sweating, and his breathing turned heavier by the second.

“My heart.” He fisted his shirt in his hand.

“What about it?” I panicked when he took a step back and lost balance. Moving fast, I caught him before he could crash to the ground.

“Hold on to me.” With one hand grabbing his hips, I brought his arm to rest around my shoulder. His body was on fire, and he was sweating like a dog at the same time he was shivering as if we were in deep snow. With a strained swallow, I held him tighter. Camilo literally slung over me, hardly able to keep himself on his legs.

By this point, he was uncontrollably shaking, and despite what he’d just murmured about having a heart attack, I suspected he was going through a panic attack. What triggered it? I had no fucking clue, but now wasn’t the time to worry about it, as my sole priority was helping him.

“Take long breaths, okay?” I told him while slowly leading him out of the street and into a back alley that gave us some privacy. Once we were alone, I helped him to sit down on the pavement with his back against the wall.

“Take long breaths, Camilo. It will all be over soon,” I said, crouching before him.

Putting my hands on his shoulders, I softly caressed him. Beads of sweat coated his forehead, and he squeezed his eyes shut while trying to get some air into his lungs. Seeing him this way scared me because he was my unbreakable man, wasn’t he? I quickly dismissed the thought. No one was immune to pain, and clearly, Camilo was going through something.

“Just breathe, mi rey. Everything is going to be fine soon,” I promised him because I knew what a panic attack felt like. I’d had enough of those to know that even though it made you feel like you were seconds away from death, it was only a matter of minutes before it would pass and, with it, all the dark thoughts that came along.

Since it looked like he wasn’t doing any better, I cupped his face in both hands. “Mi rey, concéntrate en mi voz.” Since I knew Spanish relaxed him, I used the little I knew. “Just focus on my voice and take a long breath.” My thumbs moved along his hot cheeks, gently stroking his skin as I continued to tell him to take air in and—

“That’s it, let it out slowly.” I smiled nervously while attempting to stay cool. Finally, he stopped heaving and began breathing more calmly. Knowing he was doing better helped me relax, and I moved my hands to the back of his head, my fingers softly running through his buzzed hair and up to where it was longer. Camilo’s eyes shot to mine, and once our gazes locked, I smiled at him. “Are you feeling any better?”

For a split second, the fear in his eyes was so vivid that he seemed utterly lost. I’d seen him hurt before, like that night in the motel after he fought with Andrei, but never like this. Never this mortified, as if he was staring at death itself. Not even when he was on trial and faced life in prison.

“S-shit.” He squeezed his eyes shut and attempted to get up, only to plunge back down.

“Easy there,” I warned him with my hands on his shoulders, forcing him to stay put. “Don’t get up yet.”

Clearing his throat with a cough, he pushed my hand away. “You said you wanted to go back to the resort.”

“Yeah, but you just had a panic attack—”

“What?” He frowned but then groaned with pain and leaned his head back against the wall. “Shit, my head hurts.”

“You stay here, okay? I’m going to grab you a bottle of water,” I said, and I did. No more than five minutes later, I was back at his side, sitting next to him, our shoulders touching. I watched him empty one out of the two bottles of water I had bought before giving him the second one.

He was still sweating, but at least his body had stopped shivering. We sat in silence for a couple of minutes before I brushed my hand over his brows to clean some of the sweat away.

“Since when do you have panic attacks?” I asked, my voice calm.

Looking straight ahead, Camilo played with the bottle’s cap. “It’s nothing. Probably just low blood pressure.”

I huffed. “Low blood pressure, my ass, Camilo. I know a panic attack when I see one.”

Since the way he was playing with the bottle drove me crazy, I reached for the damn plastic and snatched it from his hands. “Has it happened before?”

He held still for a moment but then, in a barely there gesture, nodded.

My heart broke.

“Camilo,” I gasped and placed my hand on his knee. “Is it always this intense?”

He brushed a hand over his jaw. “Sometimes, yes. But I never think too much into it.”

“Well, you should.” I nudged closer to him. “Have you thought about going to a therapist?” My suggestion made him snort, and I frowned. “I’m being serious.”

“Not everything can be solved by talking, Llorón.” He sounded irritated, and I moved my hand to take his.