“Just got a little scared, I g-guess,” I say, trying to keep my voice even. “It g-got hard to breathe.”

“Earthquakes?” he murmurs.

I nod once and grab his hand, holding it to me close. He splays his fingers out against my chest. He must feel my jack-rabbiting heart.

“I’m sorry,” I say, trying to distract him, distract myself.

“For what?”

“This. All of this. I thought I was better. I thought I had this under control.”

“You don’t need to apologize. Do you hear me? Ever, Kid. You don’t need to apologize ever.”

I wish I could believe him. “I don’t know how to fix me,” I whisper. “I don’t want to be like this anymore. I don’t want to be scared. I don’t want to have to come in here. I don’t want this, Bear.”

He kisses the back of my head. “I know. We’ll figure this out. I’ll make it all okay. Somehow.”

He sounds upset and I want to apologize again, but somehow, I keep it down. Instead, I open my mouth and make it worse. “Probably wish she’d taken me with her, huh?” There’s no question as to who I mean.

Bear stiffens behind me. “What?”

“Mom. Do you… do you wish sometimes that she took me with her when she left? It would’ve been easier for you. You wouldn’t have to deal with… all of this.”

“I’m going to say this once and only once,” he grinds out furiously. “Are you listening, Tyson?”

“Yeah,” I manage to say.

“Things might have sucked. Things might have been hard. Things might have seemed like they were dark and that we’d never make it through. But we did. Me and you. That’s all there was for the longest time, and we survived. Without you, there would have been no me. Otter may have my heart, but you are my soul. So, no, I don’t wish that. No, it’s never crossed my mind. No, I will never leave you and I will never let you go. You are stuck with me for the rest of your life, and if you ever ask me a question like that again, I swear to God you will see me angry like you’ve never seen before. You get me?”

I can’t speak.

He shakes me. “You get me?”

“Yes. Oh. Bear. I can’t… I can’t breathe.”

“Hear me, okay? Remember what Eddie taught you. What we’re supposed to do. Just focus on me, okay?”

I nod, starting to struggle.

“In. Breathe in. Just breathe, Kid. All you need to do is breathe.”

I can’t. I can’t get the air in.

“You can,” he says, like he can hear my thoughts. “You can because I know you can. Just breathe in with me, okay?”

Somehow, I try. For him, I’ll do anything.

“Good. Hold it for three seconds. One.”

What does she have that I don’t?

“Two.”

I know him better. He loves me more.

“Three. Let it out with me.”

I exhale.