Riley’s body shook uncontrollably as Eli led her into his apartment. Her breath came in shallow gasps, her knees buckling beneath her. She could barely focus on anything except the sound of her own heartbeat thundering in her ears.
“Sit,” Eli said firmly, guiding her to the couch.
Her hands trembled as he pressed a glass of water into them, followed by a brown paper bag. “Breathe into this,” he instructed.
She clutched the bag, inhaling and exhaling with shaky precision, but her vision blurred from tears she didn’t even realize were streaming down her face. Her body refused to calm down, locked in the throes of a full-blown panic attack.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to call an ambulance?” Eli asked, crouching in front of her, his voice steady but laced with concern.
“No,” Riley croaked between breaths, clutching the bag tighter. “I’ll be fine.”
He frowned but didn’t push it. Instead, he stood and leaned against the counter, crossing his arms. “Is that why you were holding a knife when I knocked on your door the other day? You’ve got a stalker, don’t you?”
Riley shot him a sharp look, her breathing still uneven. She didn’t answer.
Eli didn’t press her. Instead, he moved to the kitchen, his movements calm and measured, and returned with a steaming cup of tea. “Here,” he said, setting it on the coffee table in front of her. “It should help calm you down.”
She hesitated but eventually took the cup, the warmth steadying her trembling hands. “Thanks,” she muttered.
An awkward silence settled between them as Riley sipped the tea, her breaths evening out slowly. Eli leaned back in the chair across from her, his sharp eyes watching her carefully.
“So,” he said after a long pause. “Are you gonna tell me what just happened out there?”
Riley stiffened, wrapping both hands around the tea. “I should go home,” she said quickly, her voice clipped. “Thank you for… everything.”
Eli nodded once, his expression unreadable. He stood and walked to the counter, returning with a small bundle of dried herbs tied together with twine.
“What’s this?” Riley asked, frowning as he handed it to her.
“Something to help you sleep,” Eli said, his voice softer now. “It’s from my granny. I have panic attacks too, and this stuff works wonders.”
Riley’s lips twitched into a faint smile despite herself. “What are you, some kind of quack doctor?”
Eli chuckled, his first genuine laugh of the night. “No. Just someone who knows a thing or two.”
She wanted to ask more—about his past, about the panic attacks—but something held her back. She wasn’t ready. Not yet. This stranger had saved her, but that didn’t mean she could open up to him.