Everett rolled his shoulders as he parked his car in the garage beneath his building. His shift had been over several hours ago, but he had stayed on late when another staff member asked to trade the late shift so he could go home early. It had been a more than welcome excuse to avoid seeing Marguerite again. He still couldn’t believe she would call him from work over that.

He had been tempted to go club-hopping as soon as he got off work, to put extra time between them, but this was his home and he wasn’t going to avoid living his life just because of her. It wasn’t like it had been a big, epic fight. And he wanted to make sure he got home in time so he could rest before the change. These days it was wiping him out. Although that could just be the emotion of it all . . . 

As he headed for the elevators to take him up, they opened. Kristen stepped out, a bottle of his most expensive liquor in her hand and a smug smile on her face. When she saw him, she faltered, the smile slipping off her face. She ducked her head, the way she did when she was doing something she knew he’d disapprove of. He walked straight to her, his shoulders tensing.

“Hello, Everett.” Her voice was cool and even. “I was just up at your apartment having a chat with Marguerite. I would tell you that you need to wrap it, but I guess it’s six years too late for that. So, are you going to marry her, make an honest woman out of her, and give that poor little girl a father?”

“Don’t try to distract me. I saw your face as you got off the elevator. What are you up to?”

Kristen shrugged and patted a hand over her mouth as she yawned. “What makes you think I have to be up to anything? I just stopped by because I had to pay my stupid electric bill instead of buying food. I haven’t eaten in, like, two weeks. I was surprised to see your old flame, but she seems nice. Very concerned for her daughter’s wellbeing.”

“Kristen—”

“Don’t. Okay, maybe I’m a little jealous. You’ve got this opportunity to have the two-point-five kids and a successful, beautiful wife. You’re getting your shit together and I’m . . . I’m still falling apart.” Pain flashed over Kristen’s face and she glanced at the bottle of alcohol. “You know I’m only taking this for the calories, right? It’s hard to run on an empty stomach.”

“Marguerite is a psychologist. Maybe she can—”

Kristen snorted. “Wow. I never thought you’d be one to encourage me to get my head shrunken. I’m fine. Just . . . just maybe you’ll start trying to find answers for your daughter’s sake.”

What could he say to that? A weight sunk into his stomach as he watched Kristen walk away. What could he do to help her? He’d tried letting her live with him, but she never stayed that long. She needed help. Professional help. But who could come close to understanding what this was? Not to mention the severe stigma she carried against psychiatrists, psychologists, and therapists of all kinds.

Everett headed up to his apartment, lost in his own thoughts.

Marguerite was at her computer, hunched over the screen as she scrolled through an internet webpage. She didn’t acknowledge him and he wondered if she was still mad at him – although if she was, that was on her. He hadn’t done anything wrong. Still, he watched her worriedly as he passed behind her.

“What did you and Kristen talk about?”

“You, mostly.” Marguerite didn’t look at him. “Although she remembered a few things about the lab. Pairing that with the name Simon Bell, I might be able to find him.”

Everett’s heart seized. He stood utterly frozen, eyes wide as his head swung round to stare at her. What was she talking about? What was she thinking? “Why?”

“Because he might have a way to fix Elena.”

Fix her. Fix her. The apartment’s walls seemed to be closing in on him and the air heated around him. “She’s not broken. Just . . . just . . . special.”

“We don’t know that this change doesn’t burn out your cells or something.” Marguerite remained riveted on her screen. “And even if it doesn’t, it’s still putting her in danger. What would people do if they found out? Humans aren’t exactly well-known for reacting to things that stray even the slightest bit from what’s considered normal. I’m not going to let her get taken away and put in some sort of lab to be poked, prodded and dissected.”

His heart slammed against his ribs as his chest tightened. He rubbed it, choking back the worry that maybe she was right and it was all going to end in a massive heart attack. His collar was too tight. He unbuttoned the top of his shirt, trying to clear up his airways. A growl ripped from him as he leaned into the countertop.

“You don’t have to worry about people finding out if you’re careful. If she’s careful. The change only happens from three to five. Other times, it can be forced, but only through great effort.”

“Accidents happen.”

Everett growled again. “I’ve been like this for six years. You’re the only person who has found out, and that’s only because of Elena.”

Marguerite shook her head, her ponytail flouncing from one side to the other. “It’s more than that. I don’t want to have her live her life in fear. Never being able to enjoy a normal childhood because of what might happen if someone finds out her secret. I mean, no sleepovers? And when she’s older and she gets a boyfriend or a girlfriend. She’ll want to share everything about herself with them and what if . . . No. I don’t want her to be scared of herself or what others might think of her. And, quite frankly, I don’t understand why you wouldn’t want your own daughter to have a full life.”

His daughter. The daughter he hadn’t meant to have – the daughter he never thought he would have. He sucked in a breath, trying to move it past his constricting throat. He gripped the countertop.

“I never wanted a daughter. I never wanted to be tied down. What happened with you was a mistake. We should have been more careful. And then you wouldn’t even know.”

“Which is my point exactly.” She still didn’t turn, didn’t look at him. “It was an accident that I found out. I wouldn’t trade Elena for anything in this world, but she and you and me are proof that accidents do happen and that people can find out no matter how cautious you are in your life.”

Everett shook his head. Blood rushed in his ears and sweat beaded on his brow.

“And what if I’m not the only one? You know that condoms are only effective like ninety-seven percent of the time, right? There could be others out there that are going to go through this. Do you want them to come to you with questions you can’t answer? And there are some sick people out there. Any one of them could simply abandon their child—”

“Stop.”

Marguerite turned for the first time. Her eyes widened as she looked at him. He clutched his chest and dropped to a knee. He felt his heart beating in his chest, his back, his throat. It was a heart attack. His airways closed up again. He had been poisoned. He was dying.

“Everett?”

“I . . . ” He swallowed hard. “Help!”

She rushed to his side. When she put her arms around him, he grabbed her. He couldn’t seem to stop himself. His arms banded around her waist, and even though she yelped, he couldn’t make himself release her. Images flashed through his mind, cold and heat flashed over his skin, and he knew that at any moment, he was going to be pitched into the dark oblivion, never to wake again.

“Help,” he whimpered again. “Help me, please.”

“You’re hurting me.”

“Help.”

Marguerite pressed both of her hands to his chest. “Everett. Look at me. I am going to help you, but you need to let go of me.”

It took a great deal of effort, but he managed to loosen his arms enough for her to slip away. She moved back a little but didn’t go running like he had expected. On his knees, he looked up at her with terror and pleading in his eyes. Her face was pale but she nodded, looking calm and in control.

“I’m dying,” he gasped out.

“No. You’re having a panic attack. I recognize the signs.” She knelt before him, just out of reach. “You’re going to be okay. I’ve stopped researching, I promise. We’re going to stop talking about it. You’re safe. I’m the only one who knows and I’m never going to tell anybody. Elena is safe in the other room. You’re here and safe. Nobody is out to get you.”

Her voice was firm but soothing. As he stared at her, her words almost didn’t register. It was more her tone of voice and that calm look on her face that started to ease the pressure in his chest.

“You’re safe,” she repeated. “I’m here. Try to take deep breaths. I’ll count and you try to breathe with it, okay?”

He nodded. As she counted to four, he struggled to inhale with her count, then exhale. Throughout the whole time, his gaze never left her face. Her voice remained soothing and, slowly, he was able to breathe again.