Page 49 of From the Ashes

Hearing Charlie say my name for the first time in six years made my heart do a series of gymnastics I didn’t know were possible. My skin flushed with heat, my stomach twisted into a knot, and I was suddenly close to tears. I had no doubt in my mind it was him even though he was completely cast in shadow. His personal nickname for me was enough to convince me that I’d finally found him. It was what I’d been dreaming of for years.

So why was I suddenly so angry?

The distance between us closed before I realized my feet were carrying me forward of their own accord. I noticed the knife in his hand, but I didn’t care. Reaching out, I grabbed him by the front of his shirt and yanked him forward, hot angry tears already streaming down my face.

“Why?” I growled, my voice low and shaky. There were a million thoughts running through my head, all of them fighting to get out. But I couldn’t say them all, not without taking all night. So I just repeated myself. “Why?!”

Charlie’s eyes went wide, the knife in his hand dropping to the ground with a dull thud. The lantern came to rest by his side, his arms hanging limply as held him tight. It felt like I might lift him clean off the ground if I didn’t check myself. My fury was giving me strength I didn’t know I had.

“W-Who are–”

“If you finish that sentence, I will punch you,” I snapped. “You know damn well who I am, Charlie Miller.”

His eyes darted back and forth before his gaze dropped to the ground in defeat.

“Why?” I repeated. “Why did youabandonme?” The tears of anger rolling down my cheeks quickly turned icy. My broken heart that I’d tried so hard to hide bubbled to the surface, on display for all to see. “What did I do to make you hate me?”

Charlie looked up at me, his brows furrowed. For a moment it seemed like he was going to answer me, then his expression shifted. “Let me go.”

It was a simple and soft request. And despite all my fury, I forced myself to let go of his hoodie. Charlie took a step back, his hands visibly shaking as he crossed them over his chest. In fact, the more I looked, the more I realized he was shaking all over. Had I scared him that much?

I could see the muscles in his jaw clenching and unclenching at a rapid rate. For a moment I thought he was trying to figure out what to say. But then his eyes began to dart back and forth, his body shaking even more. His breath came in gasps and suddenly I was worried something wasverywrong.

“Charlie?” I asked, taking a step forward. “Are you okay?”

He stared at me, his pupils dilated so much they looked like dinner plates. His lips quivered as he began to hyperventilate.

“H-Help–”

His knees suddenly buckled, and the electric lantern hit the ground. My arms shot out, wrapping around his waist, acting of their own accord. He was surprisingly light and strangely delicate in my hands. His dark brown eyes stared up at me in fear and it finally dawned on me what was happening. The hyperventilation, the shaking, and the wide eyes could only be one thing. Charlie was having a panic attack.

“You’re okay,” I said, trying not to cry even more as I watched him suffer. “Can you wrap your arms around my neck?”

His hands shook like leaves in a storm, but eventually he got them laced around my neck.

“I’m not gonna let you go, alright?” I said softly, scooping him off his feet. “But I need you to listen to what I’m saying.”

He nodded, his head resting against my chest as he shivered. All his muscles were jumping under his skin and his breath was still ragged. If he kept hyperventilating like this, he was going to pass out.

“Can you tell me what kind of shirt I’m wearing?” I asked, trying to get him to think aboutanythingelse.

I felt his fingers grip the fabric and shake as he rubbed it between his thumb and forefinger. “H-H-Hoodie,” he sputtered at last.

“Good boy. What does it feel like it’s made of?”

“I…” He stopped, feeling the fabric once more. “M-Maybe c-c-cotton.”

“You got it.” I carried him over to the fallen tree where we used to sit as kids. It took a little finagling, but I finally got myself seated with Charlie curled up in my lap. The lantern was still sitting in the dryleaves a few feet away, throwing light as if it were the small bonfire we usually had. “Tell me three things you see, Charlie.”

He didn’t pull his head away from my chest as he looked around. “T-Trees. Moss. And our f-f-fire ring.”

“Good. Three things you can smell?”

Charlie forced his breathing to become more regular. He took several deep breaths through his nose.

“Dead leaves,” he said. “The c-creek. A-And…” He inhaled deeply, his nose pressed to my chest. “I th-think it’s l-leather.”

“That’s from my riding suit,” I replied, still cradling him in my arms. “I wear it when I ride my motorcycle. When it warms up in the sun, it makes everything smell like tanned leather.”