Page 84 of A Stop in Time

Once I’m unhooked from the monitors and unbound from the restraints, I breathe a bit easier. I swing my legs over the side of the chaise, eager to get the fuck out of here. My sunglasses, phone, and keys sit on a tray off to the side of the counter.

“Take it easy. There’s no need to rush.” He surveys me carefully. “We need to make sure you’re steady on your feet before you leave here.” Gesturing to the side where a paper cup sits, he suggests, “It’s best if you drink some water.”

A desperate need to escape this place washes over me, and I hop off the chaise. Locking my legs to ensure they don’t cave on me, I grab the cup of water and chug it, ignoring their looks of concern.

All I need to do is make it out of this office, and I’ll be fine.

“You sure you’re okay, Mackenzie?”

“Yep.” My attempt at a smile feels so brittle I fear it might crack while I hurriedly scoop up my belongings. “I’ll see you at my next appointment.”

I shove my phone and keys into my pocket and slide on my sunglasses. I don’t miss their startled expressions as I bound from the room like I’m being chased by the devil himself and practically sprint out of the office.

Daniel’s head whips around, his phone to his ear. Whatever he sees on my face has him moving to his feet and crossing the distance to me.

“Gotta go. Talk later.” He ends the call, shoves his phone in his pocket, and surveys me. His gaze stutters over the red marks along my wrists before a thunderous expression takes hold.

“The fuck happened?”

I avert my eyes. “I had some sort of panic attack episode while I was under sedation. They had to restrain me.” I tip my head in the direction of the bus stop. “We need to head up there so we don’t miss the next bus.”

Deep lines bracket his mouth, noting his disapproval, but he simply nods. We venture quietly to the covered bus stop, and the short walk leaves me a bit breathless, my muscles unusually heavy and my legs weak due to the heavier sedation today.

Thankfully, it’s not long before we’re both settled into our seats and the bus pulls away from the curbside. Daniel’s eyes weigh heavy on me, but I don’t have it in me to talk. Letting my eyes fall closed, I lean my head against the window.

If I were normal, I wouldn’t be reeling from fucked-up memories right now.

If I were normal, I wouldn’t be traipsing across town every Sunday in hopes that I won’t have some crazy episodes where I end up hurt with no recollection of it.

When callused fingers graze mine, I jolt in alarm, my eyes flaring open. When I look down at my hands in my lap, Daniel’s sliding one in his hold. I cast a glance at him, but he stares straight ahead as if resolutely ignoring my questioning gaze.

“I never hold hands.” His jaw works, and his eyes slide to me for the briefest second before his attention returns to whatever mystifying sight is at the front of the bus. “Don’t make it a thing.”

My eyes volley between his stony features and the tanned hand holding mine. Who the fuck is Daniel Madrano?

The man who’s held a gun on me and threatened me? The one who’s kissed me in a way I know I’ll remember for the rest of my days?

The man who clearly isn’t a fan of holding hands but is holding mine right now?

At the moment, I don’t give a shit what the answer is. Because, for whatever reason, his hand soothes me. And when I tighten my hold on him in a silent thank you, his fingers react similarly.

Closing my eyes, I lean my head back against the seat and focus on the bus’ movements, my breathing becoming steadier and less choppy.

For the first time, I have a much calmer ride home after a treatment.

For the first time, I have someone who willingly stepped out of their comfort zone in order to put me at ease.

And even though I know it’s a one-time thing—a fleeting moment—it’s enough for me.

40

DANIEL

Christ. It’s like she hasn’t slept in months and finally gave in.

I carry her limp body down the bus steps with barely anyone sparing us a glance. Guess that’s what happens when most everyone has their face buried in their phones these days.

While I stride down the road toward her place, I continue glancing down, ensuring her chest still rises and falls with steady breaths. I’d removed her sunglasses earlier and clipped the arm between the buttonhole of my shirt so they wouldn’t get crushed or lost.