Granger had seen this kind of thing before—it had happened a few times to fellow soldiers in Afghanistan—but it had never wrenched his heart the way it did when he saw Bliss in the grip of a panic attack. He kept talking to her in a low, soothing voice as he came around the chair so she could see him. Her eyes were wild, the color racing through her face in waves. Her breath came in fast wheezes.
Slowly, she focused her eyes on him, and that seemed to help. He took deep, audible breaths for her to imitate. In, out.
Practice for the big day, he thought. But he didn’t say it out loud—that might terrify her even more.
“Okay?” she finally managed. “It’s not okay, Granger. We’re about to have a baby. You’re injured, and even when you’re not, you don’t like to talk about yourself. I’m a flaky
