Page 8 of Sweet Redemption
Like I’m having a heart attack—but not.
Because no matter how much my body screams that’s what’s happening, this isn’t a heart attack. It also isn’t the first time this has happened. No . . . this is a panic attack.
I’m not dying.
I’m fine.
I am fine . . .
Maybe if I repeat it enough, I’ll actually believe it.
For fuck’s sake—who am I kidding?
Fine left the building before I even walked inside the diner.
And now it’s time for me to leave too.
I stand on shaky feet, desperate to get the hell out of here, but a body blocks me.
His body. “Serena?” His blurry face moves closer. “Are you okay?”
I blink, but his face won’t come into focus.
No. No. No.
Words . . . Use your words, Serena.
“I . . .” The single word comes out like a broken gasp, and my knees wobble.
His hand shoots out, and I jerk back, slamming against the stool behind me and knocking it into the counter with a loud crash. “Don’t touch me.”
Well, that came out loud and clear.
My body is fighting its way through a fire my brain insists is real.
A towering inferno threatening to burn me alive.
If it’s not real, why does this hurt so bad?
The little boy looks up at me.
His eyes a crystal-clear green.
Just like his mother’s.
“Slow down, Serena.” Hendrix’s gravelly voice washes over me. “Breathe.”
Damn him.
My eyes fly back up to his and freeze.
Locked in place.
Locked on him.
The memories don’t come rushing back. They don’t need to. They never left.
A million of them crash like waves rolling over me all at once, the weight of each one pulling me under. Refusing to let go.
