“Winter.” Now my name is him pleading with me. He’s panicking. Truly panicking. “Theo.” My hands shoot out and I hold his cheeks, forcing him to come to a standstill. I grip his skull, his stubble rough on my palms, his damp neck smooth under my fingertips. “Stop. Tell me three things you can hear.” His body heaves as he stares back at me. Moments pass. “Rain.” I nod. “Thunder.” I lick my lips. “Your finger rubbing the back of my head.” I swallow and press my opposite hand to his chest. His heart thunders beneath my palm. “Okay. Now three things you can see.” His eyes rake over me, and I don’t
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Crying
