His Blue ✓

41| Causes

It's probably an hour later when Anson arrives at his white camaro, looking for me. My knees are hugged to my chest in the way a small child's would be during a thunderstorm. However, I'm no child, and there's no thunderstorm.

Anson's strong figure is rigid in front of me. I don't look up at him. I don't have the desire to, not after what just happened.

"Indie." His voice is soft. I don't respond. Not to the same name Kyle calls me.

Anson kneels down and faces me. His eyes are wide, careful, and concerned. He smells comforting, like always. I take a deep breath.

   "What's the matter?" His voice is low as he stoops down, opposite me.

    My lip quivers. "Anson-" It's all I can do to say his name. I swallow.

    "It's okay, baby." Anson looks around the dark parking lot, trying to piece something together. His jaw is hard; he rests a hand on my knee.

    A small feeling of relief washes over me now that he's close to me. I take a shaky breath.

"Get in the car with me, please." He whispers. "I'll help you."

I slowly wrap my arms around him. Like I'm weightless, he hoists me off of the pavement and drops me down into the leather passenger seat of his car. He gently closes the door, and joins me on the other side. He closes us in. His hand grazes my cheek.

"What's wrong?" Pain seems to lace through his blue eyes.

In the moment, there was no way for me to know. Now that I can replay the scene from an hour earlier in my head, there's only one possible explanation . "I-" My voice breaks.

Should I really tell Anson what happened? It would only add to his list of worries.

I feel conflicted. I feel the need to protect him from my problems. It's over now.

"Baby, you can tell me." He speaks softly into my ear, coaxing me to confide in him.

He wants to know what happened? I can tell him part of it.

"I had a panic attack, Anson." I look at him; his face registers my words. A tear slips down my right cheek, where he can't see it.

"Please tell me you're not hurt." He starts searching over my visible skin. He grips my hands, finding the cuts on my palms.

"I've not had one for several years, a panic attack." I blink down at my palms.

"I'm really sorry." Anson frowns and shakes his head. "If I'm the reason that this happened-"

    "Never." I cut him off with a pained smile.

  Anson's lips press soothingly against my palm. "Will you tell me if you know what triggered you?"

     I shake my head , remembering Kyle. "No." I manage.

    "Well," He swallows. "I hope you can soon." He gingerly kisses my other palm .

     I watch him hurt for me. My heart breaks.

     "Let's go." He finally says. I buckle up while he begins to back out of his parking space.

In a moment, we're headed to his home. The closer we get, the more I try to put the night behind me. Finally we arrive. We silently go inside.

   I make myself comfortable in his room as he showers down the hallway. I don't do much besides think. I can't deny that I'm hurting inside. I train my eyes on the roof.