Arlene scowled. “What do you mean, ‘see’? As if another man not cooking for his wife somehow makes it okay for you to not cook for your wife?”
Mitch swallowed. “Fine. I’ll cook.”
“Can you cook?” Mom asked softly and I heard my dad choke on a piece of chili.
I hid my giggle in a swallow of orange juice.
“No.”
Silence descended around the table as we all looked at each other and then burst out laughing. Beth squealed at the noise, her tiny hand hitting her juice and sending it flying again, which made us laugh harder…
That memory was followed by another memory of a Christmas dinner. Thanksgiving. My thirteenth birthday…
The memories triggered a panic attack.
First my head grew fuzzy and I quickly lowered the gravy boat from my now trembling hand. The skin on my face tingled and cold sweat seeped from my pores. My heart was speeding so hard behind my ribcage I thought it might explode. My chest tightened and I struggled to breathe.
“Jocelyn?”
My chest rose and fell rapidly in shallow breaths, my frightened eyes searching for the voice.
Braden.
He dropped his fork, leaning across the table toward me, a frown of concern between his brows. “Jocelyn?”
I needed to get out of there.
I needed air.
“Jocelyn… Christ,” Braden muttered, shoving back from the table, intent on coming around the table to help me.
Instead, I shot out of my seat, holding my hands out to stop him. Without a word, I turned and raced from the room, running down the hall to the bathroom where I slammed inside.
Shaking hands pushed up the window, and they and the rest of me were grateful for the rush of air that blasted over my face, even if it was warm air. Knowing I needed to calm down, I concentrated on slowing my breathing.
A few minutes later my body and mind came back to itself and I slumped onto the toilet seat, my limbs all jellified. I felt exhausted again. My second panic attack.
Great.
“Jocelyn?” his voice rumbled through the door.
I closed my eyes against it, wondering how the hell I was going to explain myself. Embarrassment warmed the blood in my cheeks.
I thought I was over this. It had been eight years. I should be over it by now.
At the sound of the door opening, my eyes cracked open too, and I watched as a concerned Braden stepped inside and closed the door. Briefly I wondered why he had followed me and Ellie hadn’t. When I didn’t say anything he came closer, dropping slowly to his haunches so we were at eye level. My eyes searched his gorgeous face and for once, I wished I could break my own damn rules. I had a feeling Braden would be able to make me forget everything for a while.
We gazed at one another for what seemed like forever, not saying a word. I was expecting a lot of questions since it must have been clear to everyone, or at least the adults at the table, that I had had a panic attack. Surely, they were all wondering why, and I really didn’t want to go back out there.
“Better?” Braden finally asked softly.
Wait. Was that it? No probing questions?
“Yeah.” No, not really.
He must have read my reaction to his question in my face because he cocked his head to the side, his gaze thoughtful. “You don’t need to tell me.”
I cracked a humorless smile. “I’ll just let you think I’m bat-shit crazy.”