She kissed him. A hard, biting kiss. Then, with a deep breath, she sat back, putting distance between them.
“You calm me. I haven’t had a”—she air-quoted—“ ‘panic attack’ since St. Peter’s. I’ve had a couple of starts. In my head, I call it ‘the bubble.’ It’s like something pops inside of me, and all of a sudden, I’m hot. There’s heat everywhere—and not the heat you generate inside of me.”
She flushed, and Tristan, a bit captivated by her, leaned in, running his nose along hers. They smiled at each other as he pulled away.
“Uh …” She paused, gathering her thoughts. “It starts in my stomach, and then it’s everywhere, like an out-of-control wildfire. My chest gets tight, and breathing is hard. You saw me in that phase in the changing room. I can’t breathe, and even though I know what’s happening, I can’t slow it down enough for it to make any difference. There are instances when I hyperventilate so much that I pass out.”
He fingers tightened reminding her he was there with her.
“But that day, you put your hands on me, and I calmed immediately. And since then, when I feel it begin, I remember your hands on me, the way your thumbs rubbed along my jaw, and I can control it.”
“Have you ever talked to anyone about it? Like a psychiatrist?”
“No.”
“Just no?”
“No. We’ve discussed it as a group—”
“We?”
“My grandmother, Jamie, our advisors. It’s a matter of perception. And since I’ve been able to remain in the public eye without anyone knowing, we aren’t going to.”
“But don’t you think it would help?”
Ele shrugged. It wasn’t his place to say, but if he had a vote, if his opinion mattered, he would make sure she found a way to get professional help.
“When did they start?”
Ele startled in his lap. He placed his on her chin turning her head to his, seeking her gaze. It skittered away from him.
“Hey,” he said gently. “No pressure.”
“I’m not sure I can talk about it,” she admitted.
“Look at me,” he said, lightly pressing her jaw.
Finally, her ice-blue eyes met his. He could practically see her withdrawing, the glow dimming.
“Robert gave me a file.”
Her back straightened, and her eyes widened.
“It’s sitting in my safe back in Chicago. I haven’t read it. I’d rather you tell me. But I don’t want to push you to do something you’re not comfortable doing. I’d like to know what happened. But I can wait for you to tell me.”
“You can read it,” she said.
He shook his head, disappointed. “I’ll wait,” he insisted.
“But I don’t know if I can tell you. Ever.”
“Maybe if you told someone, you could lighten your load.” Let me carry it. The thought came unbidden, most unwelcome.
Hours ago, he’d denied Ele to Sheena. Now, he only wanted to protect her.
He remembered his sister’s words, her warning. He looked at the woman in his arms, her gaze now completely focused on him, and he realized Sheena was right.
He was in deep. The woman he wanted to protect, the princess with a security team, had the power to hurt him in a way a man who knew three hundred sixty ways to kill couldn’t. Because Robert could break his body, but Ele could absolutely gut his heart.