The room thundered around them. The table cracked and caved in, slamming Troy’s back. He forced himself to his knees, dragging his body off Giselle’s so he didn’t crush her.
Long moments of terror loomed as the thunder continued and absolute darkness closed in. Dust filled the small space, making them both cough. Then a sudden and unexpected quiet cut through. An eerie, consuming, end-of-the-world-type silence that made ice streak through Troy’s veins.
“Ellie?” his voice came out harsh and low. He leaned into one hand so he could run his other hand over her, searching for injuries. “Ellie, baby, say something.”
“O-out.” Her hand clasped onto his wrist with the desperation of a drowning victim. Her raspy, quick breaths filled the space. “Need…to get…out.”
He twisted his wrist from her grasp and stroked her face. “Shh, Ellie, it’s Troy. I’m right here, baby. I’m”—he paused for a coughing fit—“right here.”
Her breaths quickened, labored. Her hands darted out and around, feeling, searching. “Out. Out!” Terror turned her voice shrill. She struggled, squirming under him, and the rock around them shifted. She coughed. “Get me out.”
Troy grabbed both her hands and pinned them to the cave floor. “Stop moving.”
“Let me go. I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe. I have to get out. Please, let me out!”
“Ellie!” He screamed, purposely startling her brain out of the panic pattern, then had to stop to cough again. “Listen to me. The only thing keeping tons of rock off us is this broken table. If you don’t hold still, it will all come down.”
“But, but—” The uncontrollable terror filling her voice tore at him. “No.”
“I need your help to get us out of here.” He kept his voice measured and soothing. “Are you listening to me?”
“I can’t help. I can’t breathe. Please. Please, let me out.” A sob escaped.
Troy squeezed his eyes shut, praying this wasn’t the start of a complete mental breakdown. “Baby, we’ll get out, but you have to stay calm. And all this screaming and sobbing is damaging those perfect vocal cords. Please don’t do that.”
A terrified, heartrending mewl started deep in her throat and grew, rolling out of her body as she fought his hold like a goddamned demon.
Troy held her down while reining in his own fear and fighting new and rising pain in his head, back, and shoulder. This snap of PTSD would pass, she would calm, and Troy would start the reasoning process all over again. She’d had several severe panic attacks
during their years together. Countless night terrors. They’d get through this trauma just like they’d gotten through all the others.
Only, after long minutes of unrelenting terror, Troy was losing strength against her fight. And if he let go, if she tried to dig and claw her way out of this avalanche…
No. He couldn’t let that happen.
He tightened his grip on her arms, drew her up with the last of his strength, and slammed her back against the floor, screaming, “Ellie! Stop!”
She froze, but tremors shivered through her body. While she was lucid, he said, “If you don’t hold still, we will both be crushed. Do you understand what I’m telling you? We will both die here, if you don’t get ahold of your panic.”
“H-h-holy hell.” She breathed heavy and fast. Her hands flexed and fisted. “I can’t… I can’t…”
“Use your breathing, El. Focus on my voice. Long, slow, deep breath in, two, three, four…” He counted to eight, cautiously releasing her wrists. “Good. And out, two, three…”
The dust had died down, making it easier to breathe. And as he continued to count in a steady, reassuring voice, he pushed himself into a sitting position. “And again,” he said, repeating the count as he grasped her arms gently and eased her slowly toward him, pulling her into his lap and the circle of his arms. “Good. And out, two, three…”
He shimmied his butt backward until he felt something solid behind him and tested his weight against the rock. When nothing shifted or crumbled, he relaxed, tucking her head beneath his chin. But she remained stiff.
“Everything’s going to be okay.”
“Nothing’s going to be okay,” she bit back, shaky but adamant and angry. “Nothing. This is a perfect metaphor for my life right now—I was finally making headway. Getting serious name recognition, great sales, sold-out concerts. I have a good manager, an ambitious agent. Here I am, telling myself, ‘Push yourself just a little more Giselle. Do the sexy video, do the sexy part, it’s no big deal.’ I’m this close to reaching that breakthrough level, where I choose my concert dates, and I choose my venues, where I get courted instead of being the one to court others. I can see that glimmer of finally having some control over my life—and then you show up, and everything threatens to cave in around me. Just. Like. This.”
She was rambling. She did this when her anxiety wound out of control with no outlet, and he didn’t want her winding up so tight, she blew in this dangerous setting. “Ellie, you need to—”
“And not only are you you, as if that wasn’t bad enough, but you’re not you. You’re some wickedly bastardized version of you who screws up my head and makes everything worse. In case I haven’t mentioned it, I hate you, just so you know.” She paused only to draw air, then yelled at the ceiling, “Either get me the hell out of here, or put me out of my misery!”
And then she burst into tears.
Troy exhaled and pressed fingers to his closed lids.