caressing his senses, throbbing purpose filling his body.
Emotions swirled inside him and around him. Tangible emotions that didn’t feel slippery.
The moment Ashna had knocked on India’s door and India had run at Ashna with questions about him, in that moment something had bloomed inside Yash. The belief that he would feel like himself again, that he hadn’t lost himself. Like he knew what to do with people. Like the beating heart inside his chest was more than an organ. Like he was more than the blood that circulated through his blood vessels. All the things he hadn’t been able to feel since the first gunshot went off. All the things he stopped feeling when she wasn’t there.
He jumped off the yoga mat.
“I . . . I have to go. I’m late for something.” Yes, he sounded like an absolute coward.
India opened her eyes slowly. It was possibly how she would have liked him to do it. He felt like a jerk, but he embraced it. Because, hey, you were who you were. He could feel things now. Their work was done.
Touching her own chest in some sort of ritual, where she looked like she was pushing something back inside her heart with her palms, she stood, looking as floaty and grounded as ever.
“I think we’re done here,” he said, not proud of his harsh tone.
“If that’s what you want.” Her expression did not alter, but deep in her eyes disappointment flashed. So the yogi wasn’t quite as yogic as she’d like to be.
“Thank you. That was very, umm, very insightful.” He turned toward the door. Something tugged at him, pulled him back. That wasn’t why he turned back to her, though. “Can I have you invoice me, or do I pay now?” He reached for his wallet.
Without looking at him, she started rolling her mat. “There will be no invoice. We’re good.”
“Excuse me?”
Her focus stayed on the mat. “You’re my friends’ brother. You needed help and I helped you. Or tried. Ashna, Trisha, and Nisha are like family.” She put away both mats.
“You provided a service. This is not up for debate.” HRH’s imperiousness was in his voice again.
She had this thing she did, like she was tightening something deep inside, the very core of her being, without moving a single visible muscle. “You’re right, there’s no debate. We had a conversation. You didn’t feel like you wanted to stick it out until the end, but basically we had a conversation, and I don’t charge friends or their families for talking to them. Now, if you’re ready to leave, please call Brandy so she can escort you home.”
Her tone was nonconfrontational. He doubted she’d ever been confrontational a day in her life. Then why the hell did it feel like he’d done something wrong and she was confronting him about it? This particular form of treatment wasn’t working for him. So he’d stopped wasting her time.
He texted Brandy. “I just texted Brandy.”
“Good.” She stood there all perfectly erect and still, smooth glowing skin stretched tight over lean muscle. That long bare neck at once proud and humble.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Only if you don’t offer to pay me for the answer.” So she did do confrontation. She just did it in this utterly unruffled way. How had he offended her by offering to pay for her time? He was running a political campaign, for shit’s sake. Knowing what not to say to people was supposed to be his topmost skill.
“If I hadn’t jumped off the yoga mat like . . .” He wasn’t sure if he paused because he wanted her to finish that for him or if he just wanted to extend the conversation because suddenly he didn’t want to leave.
“Like someone who was uncomfortable with what he was feeling,” she filled in, soft pouty lips barely moving, the effort stretching the faint scar marking the vulnerable Cupid’s bow.
He would have said, Like an utter coward. He wasn’t sure he liked her version better. “Well, if I hadn’t stopped, what would we have done next?”
The eyes that met his told him that she had a good mind not to answer, but then her generosity won out, because he probably looked as tortured as he felt.
“Yash.” She said his name the way his family said it. To rhyme with rush, not dash. The way she’d said it the very first time. “What you’re experiencing isn’t technically panic attacks. Panic attacks are usually random. There can be identifiable triggers, but