"Well, you know, thanks for trying. You probably have somewhere to go."
The pressure in her chest grows, winding like a burning thread around her ribs. Breathing normally is getting harder. Panic. She is starting to panic. All the broken evidence and set-ups, they feel like stones in her stomach, cement on her limbs.
No, I won't unravel! I can't lose it in front of Jane.His confident response registers somewhere in the chaos of the thoughts and sensations.
Get it together, Teresa. You're stronger than this."I can count on you not to tell anyone about this, right?" And she mentally applauds herself for the steady delivery of her request.
Until his image begins to shimmer. She has scant seconds left to regain control.
"On the team," she tries to carry the conversation but a sob gathers in her throat, making her voice hitch noticeably.
Damn it.
Disappointment at her inability to master the gathering moisture wars with embarrassment and...something else.
She feels his palm at her shoulder. His soothing murmuring words of comfort a breath from her ear. And instead of stiffening at the touch, she feels the anxiety recede just a little.
"It's going to be ok. We'll figure it out."
Drops wind down her cheeks as her muddled brain tries to pinpoint that elusive feeling.
It's as warm as mug of hot chocolate on a chilly day and fluttery like the brush of moth wings.
So caught up in deciphering, she doesn't realize she's allowed her head to drop to Jane's shoulder until his fingers loosely cradle the nape of her neck. And realization shoots through her system with brilliant, breathtaking clarity.
Safe. She feels safe.
Patrick Jane is a safe place.