As irrational and unfair as I knew it was, I couldn’t help but feel a little resentful that Grease was taking them away from me. I’d never say anything, because underneath it all, I was beyond happy for my best friend.

I just wished that everything didn’t have to change.

Once Cody and I helped Gram get her bedroom situated so she’d have a place to sleep, we hugged her good-bye and walked to my apartment for the night. The apartments were right down the sidewalk from each other, but the two doors between them felt like a hundred miles after being so close for so long.

By the time we walked inside my apartment, I felt the creeping tightness in my chest that signaled an epic panic attack. I tried to use my breathing exercises, repeating over and over in my head that I was fine and it was just my mind playing tricks on me, but it didn’t seem to help. Finally, I squeezed my eyes closed in defeat, begging my body not to break down in front of Cody.

But it was no use.

My fingers began to tingle as I stumbled toward my bedroom, and I barely heard Cody’s voice asking me what was wrong before I started panting. I wheezed, unable to get enough air, and dropped to the floor to grab the garbage bag holding the quilt from my bed. I just needed my quilt and I’d be okay. Someone had tied a knot in the top of the bag that I couldn’t pry loose, and I felt tears running down my face as Cody knelt down beside me to still my frantic fingers.

“You’re scaring me, Ladybug. What’s going on?” he asked urgently, turning my face up so he could look at me.

“Need my blankie. In the bag.” I continued to wheeze as more tears poured from my eyes. Oh God, I needed my blanket.

“Okay, babe, I got it,” he said, reassuring me as he dug his fingers into the bag to rip open the sides. I made a soft noise in my throat as I saw the familiar wedding ring pattern, and reached my hands into the open bag next to his, the sight and feel of the soft stitching promising relief. We pulled it free together, and I was sobbing and shaking as I hurriedly unfolded it. Once it was opened up between us, I lay down on my side and pulled it over my entire body, covering myself from head to toe.

The shaking stopped almost instantly, fading to small tremors, but it took a while for my breathing to get back to normal. I lay inside my safe place, soothed by the feel of Cody’s hand rubbing comfortingly up and down my back. Finally exhaustion set in, and I got enough air in my lungs. We were quiet for a few moments, relief palpable between us, before I saw his hand grab the side of the quilt as if to pull it away.

“Not yet!” I rasped insistently, pulling back at the cover.

“Okay,” he said softly, and relaxed his hand.

He was quiet for a moment before he shifted, and then suddenly he was under the blanket with me, pulling it over his head so we were face-to-face, cocooned in darkness.

“This okay?” he whispered.

“Yeah.” I sniffled once and wiped the back of my hand beneath my nose.

“What was that, Ladybug?” He reached out a hand to cup my cheek, and the soft gesture almost had me sobbing again.

“A panic attack,” I said quietly. “Why are we whispering?”

“I don’t know,” he said, a little louder. “How often does this happen? Why the hell would you have a panic attack?”

I debated trying to play it off, but knew he’d see right through any smoke screen I threw up. He always had.

“It doesn’t happen very often. A few times a year, maybe? It happened a lot as a kid, but they aren’t as bad since I moved in with Callie.”

“How did I not know about this?”

“I don’t think anyone knows except for Gram. She found me freaking the hell out one day, and she used one of the quilts your aunt Lily made to cover me up.”

“This quilt?”

“Yep, she gave it to me after that. I had my own blanket when I was a kid, but after I . . . left my mom’s, it was gone. I’m not sure how Gram knew to cover me up, I was pretty out of it by the time she’d found me.”

“I think one of my uncles had panic attacks as a kid.”

“Makes sense,” I murmured as he laid his arm out in front of him so I could snuggle against his chest.

“Why would you have a panic attack, Ladybug?”

“Good question,” I joked dryly. “I’m not real good with change. I think maybe moving and all of this shit just caught up to me. I’m sorry.”

I hated calling attention to myself. No, that wasn’t true. I hated inadvertently calling attention to myself. I had no problem stealing the attention of a roomful of people, putting on a show, but I hated being the center of attention if I wasn’t able to control it. Panic attacks were the ultimate loss of control and I loathed them, especially when someone witnessed them. After Gram had caught me during one of the worst ones I’d ever had, I was so embarrassed I’d stopped talking to her for a week.

“Don’t say you’re fucking sorry. I’m sorry. I should have figured out how to help you instead of standing there with my dick in my hand like a fucking idiot.”

“You did exactly what I needed you to do,” I told him with a kiss. “And now I’m ready to get up.”

We decided to take a shower and head to bed, both of us exhausted from the long drive and unloading boxes all day, and I didn’t once question if he would be staying over. We were in his city and he had his own place to sleep in, but it honestly never crossed my mind to ask him to leave. I hated how quiet the apartment was, and I was happy that he was going to be there with me all night. Like Scarlett O’Hara, I told myself I’d deal with the empty apartment tomorrow.