A Broken Soul(74)

"If I have to paste on a fake smile for one more person, I might just lose my mind," I mumbled under my breath once there was a brief lull in the crowd. "My face actually hurts right now." Trying to ease the ache, I opened my mouth wide and worked my jaw around.

"You want us to get you out of here?" Eliza asked, her arm looped through mine as we stood near the front pews of the church. "We can sneak you through the side so you don't have to talk to anyone else. The service is over anyway." 

She was right, the only reason we were still hanging around was so everyone in the church could offer their condolences. Since my father requested to be cremated and to have his ashes scattered in the mountains in a place he and my mother had already selected, there wouldn't be a graveside service.

Technically, I could leave if I wanted to, and I really wanted to, but as I looked down the length of the pew where my mother stood, talking to the group of people milling about, I knew I needed to stay, if for no other reason than to be there for her.

"I can't leave my mom," I stated, as I plastered another smile on my face when one of my parents' neighbors stepped up in front of me and took my hand.

"It's a sad, sad day. But he's in a better place."

Fuck off! I screamed in my head as my mouth replied, "Thank you, Mr. Whitman."

I'd been teetering on the edge of losing it the entire day, walking a fine rope that seemed to fray with every step I took, and Mr. Whitman's words - despite the well-meaning behind them - threatened to push me over. There suddenly wasn't enough air. I was suffocating, the walls beginning to close in around me, and no one appeared to notice. Well, almost no one.

"We're going," Quinn stated in a firm tone that left no room for argument.

"I can't-" I began to protest, even as a cold sweat broke out on my forehead and my body started to tremble. My heart was beating so hard I was scared it would break through my ribs.

He cut me off. "Eliza can stay with your mother for a bit, make sure she's okay, and explain to her where you've gone. You need fresh air. I'm taking you outside for a bit."

I wanted to cry in relief at the idea of stepping outside the confining room. Feeling just seconds from fainting, I didn't argue as Quinn took me by the elbow and led me from the sanctuary through a side door that led us out of the church completely. The typical frigid winter temperature of Wyoming came as a blessing, and once we got a yard or so away from the building, I bent in half, hands propped on my knees, and pulled the much needed air into my deflated lungs.

"Oh, God," I wheezed. "What the hell was that?"

Quinn's palm came down on my back and he began rubbing soothing circles. "Panic attack. Just slow down, try and control your breathing. It'll pass."

"That's what a panic attack feels like?" I asked exasperatedly. "Jesus! I felt like I was dying."

"It'll get better. I promise."

Once my heart rate returned to normal, and the spots in my vision cleared I was able to stand upright. "You've experienced these?" Even with everything that had happened between us, even though I still held a bitter resentment for him, I couldn't help but be concerned, because I wouldn't wish what I'd just suffered through on my worst enemy.

"Yeah. After the …  accident." That was all he gave me, but I knew what accident he was talking about. He never spoke about his wife as far as I knew, but everyone in town knew the story of what had happened. A car accident took her life and left Quinn with a long recovery.

It was then that I realized just how much of a sacrifice he'd made for me by coming here, by staying with me the past few days. My voice was thick as I spoke around the painful lump in my throat. "I'm sorry."

He shrugged and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his slacks. "It's all right. Haven't had one in a while now."

"No, that's not what I meant." In all the time we'd spent together, we'd never discussed his wife, his marriage. Hell, even the topic of the wedding ring he still wore was off the table, so saying what I felt I had to at that moment was so much harder than it should have been. "It's selfish, really, but I'm only just now realizing how difficult all of this-" I pointed back at the church, "-must have been for you. And I'm sorry. Not just that you had to deal with a funeral and everything, but for your loss. You never talked about it, and I knew I couldn't truly understand what you went through. I know it's different, losing a father than it is losing a spouse, but I can appreciate how painful it is now. And I just … " I shrugged, feeling helpless. "I'm sorry. I know it's ironic saying that to you when I couldn't stand to hear it from everyone back there a few minutes ago, but it's how I feel."