9
Nick all but burst out of the pub and then, much to his humiliation, doubled over, dry heaving. God, this hadn’t happened in years. His face burned, but he couldn’t catch his breath, couldn’t stop it. His heart was going to rip straight through his ribcage and bleed out onto the rainy street. f**k, f**k, f**k.
“Breathe.”
A steady hand on his back, a voice in his ear. Nick’s throat dry-clicked. He shook his head, I can’t, I can’t breathe.
“C’mon, you can do it.”
Nick was vaguely aware of Dex crouching down next to him, his hand moving up and down on his back. He hated it and needed it at the same time. Hated that he needed it. Needed it like air.
Slowly, painfully slowly, his breathing evened out, and he no longer felt like he was going to vomit. His heart pitter-pattered inside his
