Neither of us say anything as we just sit there, with Will maintaining his protective cocoon around me as I ride out the rest of my panic attack. Every so often he taps his fingers against my chest, like he’s giving instructions to my heart—just a simple one-two beat that has my mouth twitching with the beginnings of a smile. “Why’d you do that?” I finally manage to croak. Exhaustion settles over me, turning my limbs into jelly. He doesn’t have to ask what I mean. “Do you really need to ask?” “Gonna kick your ass as soon as I can move again,” I mumble. I feel a smile form against my skin.
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