Take a Hint, Dani Brown (The Brown Sisters #2)(44)

“Yes, indeed,” she murmured.

“Want me to come?”

“No,” she said instantly. But then, just as quickly, she looked up at him and blurted, “Would you? Why would you? You wouldn’t. Would you?”

Well. That was interesting. “It’s like cheering someone on at a match, right? I’ve got to come.”

“Because I’m your fake girlfriend.”

“Because you’re my real friend,” Zaf said, and meant it.

She flashed a bemused smile, as if she didn’t understand him but wasn’t willing to argue. “It’ll be terribly boring.”

“If you’re talking,” he said, way too honestly, “I won’t be bored at all.”

Her smile widened, so bright and beautiful, he felt like he was stepping into sunlight after months in the dark. And Zaf could say that with certainty, because he knew exactly what it felt like. Something deep inside him shifted and thunked and . . .

And if he didn’t change the subject soon, he might do something foolish. He scrubbed a hand over his beard and checked his watch. “Oh. Crap.”

She caught his wrist and angled her head to read the time. “We’re going to be late.”

“Not if we get a taxi.”

“Genius, darling.”

Even though he wasn’t either of those things, the words curled around him like affectionate cats. They kept him warm as he and Dani ordered a cab and ran downstairs, as they drove through the city to the building Radio Trent shared. It was only when Zaf stood in front of the place, the evening breeze nipping at his skin and the light from the building spilling through its glass doors, that his warmth disappeared like smoke and memories bombarded him.

Shouted questions as he left practice, strangers stabbing at an open wound. Headlines, the smooth voices of sympathetic commentators, sober newsreaders mentioning his family’s devastation in calm, measured tones during the sports update. Pictures of him and Dad and Zain, grinning side by side, posted in “tribute” by people who didn’t even fucking know them, who couldn’t feel it, who’d never feel it, but who wanted, for some twisted, suffocating reason, to be involved. And now here he was, voluntarily walking into a place full of people just like that, with nothing but a fake girlfriend and a polite request “not to discuss certain topics” as his shield. The fact that nothing about this situation was safe or easily controlled slammed into him like a big, panic-stricken fist. He felt his chest tighten, felt the tide trying to pull him away, and why the fuck was this happening when it had been so long and he’d been doing so well and—

It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. It’s okay. Zaf caught his self-recriminations by the throat, threw them aside, and focused on making himself feel better, not worse. He knew what to do. He’d done it countless times before. So he thought, as clearly as he could, Zaf. You’re having a panic attack. But that’s okay.

Then he sank down onto the ground and breathed.





CHAPTER TEN


A lot of people considered Dani oblivious, but that wasn’t true: she simply chose to ignore the things that didn’t interest her in favor of the things that did. People, as a group, were therefore pushed to the back of her mind in favor of more relevant topics, such as snacks and poetry and panel research. But Zaf had a strange tendency to squeeze through the bars of her mental cage (which made no sense, since he was bloody huge) and stroll into her zone of focus like he belonged there.

Which is why Dani noticed the instant his breathing changed.

It wasn’t that she could hear it—not with her ears, anyway. They were on the pavement outside the boxy, modern building that housed Radio Trent’s headquarters, the traffic behind them busy enough to drown out the sound of one man’s inhalations. And yet, when that slow, steady rhythm faltered, Dani felt it, somewhere deep inside her own chest. Zaf sucked down his next breath as if dragging in the oxygen against its will, and she turned as if pulled. Then he bent down into a crouch, right there on the street, and she did the same without a second thought. It felt as if some shining tie was braided between them and if one of them couldn’t stay upright, neither of them could.

“Sorry,” he told her, his voice strained and rough as sandpaper. “Sorry.”

“Don’t you dare,” she said softly.

“I’m just—I just need to—”

“You can tell me later. Right now, do what you need to do.” Dani sat on her bum—some people didn’t have the quad muscles required to crouch, thank you very much—and added, “If I can help, let me know. Otherwise, feel free to ignore me. I’ll still be here.”

He swallowed hard. “I’m fine, though. This is fine.”

“Zaf.”

“You’re right,” he said with a tight little laugh. “Not fine. Not fine at all.”

“No,” Dani agreed. “But no one can be fine all the time. So we’ll stay here while you’re busy being not-fine, and we won’t move until you’re done, and that’s okay.” It was ridiculous, it was babble, it was the best she could offer. But she saw the tremor in his hands and the worryingly pale gold of his skin, and for the first time in a long time, she wished like hell that she could offer more.

Zaf, meanwhile, went quiet.