Dirty Laundry: A Tucker Springs Novel #3

wouldn’t have to freak out if we were together still. Don’t you get that?” Brad looked like he was ready to cry. “I thought if we took a break it would make you see reason. I just want you to deal with some of your shit. You have no idea how hard it is to be with you, how much work. Is it too much to ask for you to handle some of your own shit?”
    Adam didn’t know what Brad was even talking about. Deal with his own shit? What?
    You have no idea how hard it is to be with you.
    “Oh God, are you having an attack?” Brad put his hand on Adam’s shoulder. “Come on. I’ll get you to the hospital.”
    “ No. ” Adam flung him off. “Get away from me.”
    “If you’re upset—” Brad began to stroke Adam’s hair. “There, there. I’ll take care of you.”
    For the first time since they’d met, that kind of care and attention made Adam want to vomit. “Get away from me .”
    He’d hurt Brad, he could tell. But he couldn’t bring himself to care.
    “Fine. I’ll go.” Brad’s voice quavered, and Adam knew he was going to go off and cry in the single-stall restroom down by the dorm entrance. “I just hope muscle boy knows what to do when you freak out. I hope someone still wants to comfort you once you’ve driven off all your friends and you’re all alone .”
    On that dramatic parting note, Brad flounced off. The rest of the Bug Boys cast uneasy glances Adam’s way, but Adam didn’t linger. After a few more steadying breaths, he headed into the cafeteria, moving slowly and carefully and staying close to the wall.
    But the damage, unfortunately, had been done. When he entered the cafeteria, the discordance of too many voices assailed his ears and mingled with the chaos already whirling inside his head. The doubts Brad had planted, deliberate and accidental both, swirled within him, coalescing in whispers that caressed his brain, slowly dragging him down.
    He’s right. Denver would turn tail and run at your first panic attack. What were you thinking, leaving Brad, even as a friend? What if they all hate you and you’re completely alone? They probably do. Who would want you?
    What if you get sick and they’ve all abandoned you and you have no one to call when you’re dying? What if someone breaks into your apartment and you’re all alone with no one to protect you? What if you forget to unplug something and start a fire and burn in your bed because you forgot to check the fire alarms? What if someone else in the building starts a fire? You stayed on the ground floor, but what if your window freezes when you try to get out? Or what if the lock fails and someone comes in and rapes you? What if the worst happens and you die miserable and alone without even Brad to comfort you?
    What if, what if, what if, what if what if what if—
    “Are you okay?”
    The gentle voice cut through Adam’s chaos enough for him to lift his head, but the room was still spinning and out of focus, his vision framed in red. “Panic attack,” he whispered before surrendering to it again.
    Slender, careful hands pressed against his shoulders, steadying him with significant strength. “Easy. Deep breaths. Focus on the sound of my voice.” Adam did, as best he could. The voice lilted, but it had an odd edge to it, as if it were wavering between high and low. Long brown hair swayed into Adam’s vision, floral perfume drifting in its wake. Those strong hands shifted, one moving to his chin to lift it slightly. “That’s it, keep breathing. Keep going. You’re doing great.”
    There—again, the voice dipped too low, unmistakably this time, and the disparity made Adam frown and increase his focus, trying to figure out what was going on. His vision began to clear as his breath steadied even more, and he became aware he was sitting on a bench beneath the coat racks, staring into the beautiful made-up face of a woman who appeared to be in her early thirties.
    With an Adam’s Apple.
    Everything settled into place, and Adam’s eagerness to be welcoming to his transgender rescuer overcame his need to dissolve into panic. “Oh. Hi.” He forced a wavering smile. “Thanks.”
    The woman rolled her eyes, but her mouth twisted in a wry smile too. “You’re cute, but you can wait until after your attack is over to reassure me you won’t freak out that I’m trans.”
    Adam tried to laugh again, but he had to shut his eyes and take deep breaths for another half minute before he could reply. “I think it helped,