Chicago.

Kate Harris couldn’t breathe.

The oppressive heat in the Transit Nightclub pressed down on her with relentless force as if the very air conspired to suffocate her. The drum machine’s relentless pounding was a physical presence, its beats like hammer blows against her skull. She swept a damp lock of hair from her neck and cringed at the erratic beat of her pulse—her body’s treacherous rhythm section adding to the cacophony.

Her fingers, trembling and slick with clamminess, fumbled at the hem of her black silk top, tugging in vain for some relief.

“Can you believe this band?” A girl nearby shouted over the music, her eyes glittering with excitement. “They’re on fire tonight!”

Kate couldn’t share the sentiment. To her, the music was nothing but noise, an aural assault that made her stomach churn. What had she eaten? A granola bar for breakfast, a sad desk salad for lunch…not enough to lose on someone’s designer shoes.

“Hey, Kate!” A voice cut through the din. She glanced over to see one of her coworkers from Encore Productions waving from where they clustered on the dance floor, blissfully unaware of her distress. “Come join us!”

“Uh, in a bit,” she called back, her voice strained with forced cheerfulness. 

Kate’s hand went to the pendant at her throat, her fingers tracing the familiar contours of the silver piece that had once warmed against her father’s skin. Usually, it was an anchor in sensory overload, but tonight, it felt like it couldn’t keep her afloat. Her credibility as the cool, collected newcomer was hanging by a thread. If she wanted to avoid being the talk of the office tomorrow, she needed to escape without making a scene. 

Don’t look sick. Don’t draw attention. Just get out.

As the strobes flickered, casting disjointed shadows on the walls, waves of nausea crested with each flash. Kate edged through the throng of gyrating bodies, each step a negotiation. Her handbag smacked against a hip here, a shoulder there, but the apologies died on her lips. 

Finally reaching the entrance, she burst through the doors and gulped down the crisp spring air. She clutched the railing, her knuckles whitening.

“Are you okay?”

She startled at the touch on her shoulder, recoiling before registering the concern in the man’s tone.

“I’m fine, I—” Her words broke off as recognition sparked—hot elevator guy. Any woman would plead guilty to drooling over the dark-haired male who rode the Hancock’s elevator every morning with his fitted suits, designer leather messenger bag, and Rolex on his wrist. Tonight, he wore jeans and a simple blue t-shirt, but she’d know him even if he wore a Halloween costume. She just didn’t know him, know him.

“Hey, it’s okay.” His hand on her arm was meant to reassure her, but it sent an unexpected jolt through her.

“Right,” she said, her voice wobbling as much as her legs. “I just...got too hot.”

“Are you on something?” His question came out blunt, his brows drawn together in genuine worry.

“What? No!” Indignation flared, momentarily overpowering the dizziness. But then the world tilted, and suddenly, she was sinking into his arms.

“Whoa there,” he said, steadying her. “Okay, so I think you’re having a panic attack. Let’s get you over to Northwestern to be sure.”

Before she could protest, they were in a cab. 

“I’m Nick, by the way.”

Kate nodded as she breathed through the surges of nausea. At least now hot elevator guy had a name. 

“Thank you, Nick…for helping me. Most people wouldn’t have noticed. I’m actually hoping my coworkers were oblivious.” She peeked through her lashes to offer a weak smile.

“Most people aren’t looking,” he said softly. “But you looked like you needed someone.”

“Kate,” she offered her name, feeling the tangle of anxiety begin to unfurl.

“Nice to meet you, Kate. I’m right here if you need to talk. Or not talk. Whichever helps.”

“Talk might be good,” she admitted. “Tell me something random.”

“Random, huh?” He chuckled. “I can do random. Did you know Australia is wider than the moon, and owning only one guinea pig in Switzerland is illegal?”

“Really?” Kate couldn’t help but laugh, the absurdity of him knowing such facts acted like a balm to her frazzled nerves.

“Really,” he confirmed.

As the cab pulled up to Northwestern Hospital’s ER, Kate reached into her handbag for cash, but Nick insisted on paying. He helped her out of the cab and guided her through the sliding doors to the waiting room.

The bright fluorescent lights and the antiseptic smell didn’t help Kate’s queasiness, but she had to admit that the air conditioning was glorious. It was quiet for a Thursday night; so quiet, she wondered if Nick could hear her heart thumping. It was maintaining a pretty severe rhythm.

As Kate signed in, Nick informed the young woman behind the desk why they were there. The woman escorted them to a triage room down the hall with a simple exam table and a computer on a rolling workstation.

Kate took a deep breath as she sat on the edge of the exam table, the paper cover crinkling under her as she shifted to get comfortable. Her whole body seemed to buzz, or maybe it was the sound from the overhead lights. “I’ve never had anything like this happen before. I thought maybe I had food poisoning or something. Or maybe it was the crowd. Too many people.”

“Or that band,” Nick added, raising his eyebrows. “But, I guess five-hundred twenty-somethings couldn’t be wrong.”

“I’m not so sure. The music was pretty awful.” Kate couldn’t help but chuckle.

“I should be billing them double based on their talent alone,” he said. “I’m their agent.”

Kate started to stammer apprehensively, “Oh, well, I guess—”

“I’m just messing with you.” The corners of his mouth perked up. “I represent them because their parents have money, but even I’ll admit they seriously suck.”

Kate laughed again, her fingers finding the pendant around her neck.

Nick’s gaze lowered to her throat. “Your necklace, it’s unique. I assume there’s a story?”

“It was my dad’s. He wore it every day, and now I do. It makes me feel closer to him.”

“Seems like it has a lot of love attached to it,” he observed, his gaze softening.

“More than you know,” she replied.

A short, petite nurse came into the room with a clipboard and handed it to Nick. “What brings you here today, dear?” she asked Kate.

“I guess I’m having a panic attack?” Kate looked at Nick to confirm.

He nodded. “Rapid heart rate, nausea, dizziness. It started about thirty minutes ago.” He sounded so sure of himself, like he’d done this before.

The nurse took Kate’s vitals. “Your blood pressure and pulse are a bit high. Go ahead and fill out those forms. The doctor shouldn’t be long.” The woman smiled and left the room, shutting the door.

Nick handed Kate the clipboard. There was that smile again.

“You don’t have to stay,” Kate said as she looked down at the form. There were so many questions. She’d barely been at Encore long enough to understand the benefits package.

“It’s fine. Unless you want me to call someone?” Nick asked casually, but the undercurrent of curiosity wasn’t lost on her.

“No. It’s late,” Kate replied, unwilling to delve into personal territory.

“So, how do you know so much about panic attacks?” It was her turn to ask questions, seeking distraction.

“My brother has them,” he shared, leaning against the wall with a casualness that belied his attentive gaze.

“Hi, I’m Dr. Shen,” announced the woman entering the room, breaking their connection.

Nick nodded at the doctor and stepped out, leaving Kate alone with her thoughts.

“What brings you in this evening?” the doctor asked, turning to the workstation.

“It was like a wave just came over me,” Kate explained, her voice barely above a whisper.

Dr. Shen typed a few notes out, then turned to look at Kate. Her eyes were kind. “Are you under an extraordinary amount of stress lately?”

Stress? That was an understatement. The doc didn’t know the half of it. She laughed inwardly at the absurdity of it all – her recent return to Chicago, the expectation of the new job, the unrealistic goals she’d set for herself, not to mention she hadn’t reached out to any of her friends yet to tell them she was back.

“Something like that,” Kate murmured.

***

The fluorescent lights of the hospital’s waiting room cast a sterile pallor over everything, bathing Nick Logan in their artificial glow. He sat there, an island of calm amid intermittent beeps and the shuffle of nurse’s shoes on linoleum. His gaze fixed on the cell phone in his hand as he scrolled through his texts absentmindedly, the glowing words blurring before his eyes as his thoughts circled back to Kate.

Kate.

Her name rolled around his head like a secret indulgence. 

He’d come to know the rhythm of her presence in the elevator every morning, although they’d never spoken. Her style starkly contrasted the uniformity of the office workers who milled about the Hancock building, and was more like the employees he knew from Encore Productions. Still, the look was undeniably hers—authentic and unapologetic in vintage band t-shirts, Doc Martens that had seen better days and ripped jeans that spoke of a thousand concerts. Not to mention how the light always caught the reddish-brown threads of her shoulder-length hair—each detail was etched into his memory from weeks of silent observation.

Even tonight, she’d stood out amidst the sea of bodies gyrating to the pulsing music at Transit. He’d considered finally introducing himself, perhaps offering to buy her a drink. But then he saw it—her hand clutching at her chest, her eyes darting with a frenzied kind of fear. Then she pushed toward the exit, and instinctively, he went after her.

Flashbacks of racing to the hospital now flooded him. For as long as Nick could remember, his brother had always been on a carousel of chaos fueled by his tortured soul. It was a trait that had made Chris Squire one of the most prolific musicians over the last twenty years.

Nick’s fingers tightened around the phone as his thoughts drifted to dreams of representing natural talent, crafting careers that might even eclipse the legends, like his brother. Currently, he was stuck peddling false hope in the form of synthesized beats and overproduced bass drops. He’d spent weeks fighting for a prime spot at Transit on one of the most popular nights of the week because the members of Impetus Stain were entitled little shits with wealthy parents and a throng of groupies who wouldn’t know good music if it walked right up and fist-bumped them. 

Meanwhile, Chris had made music that was genuine, the kind that resonated deep within your chest and settled there like a friend you’d known all your life. Impetus Stain’s attempts at artistry was a pale imitation that left a bad taste in your mouth. Their sound couldn’t hold a candle to the soulful rifts his brother would effortlessly conjure from thin air. 

Nick loved music with every fiber of his being, but what he’d heard tonight was less like music and more like a series of unfortunate events.

He focused on his phone again, counting how long it had been since he’d heard from Chris. He wanted to give his brother some space, but Nick considered calling him when a week became three. Chris’s last words to him at the airport were, “Maybe with me gone for a while, you can get yourself a life, kid.”

His life up until then had been to shadow his big brother, make sure no one took advantage of him as his former manager had, administer anti-depressants, or preoccupy Chris from the reality that his career had pretty much gone down in flames with his last album.

Nick’s fingers hovered over the keyboard. A text would seem less panicky, but what could he say that wouldn’t make him look like the overbearing brother he knew he could be? 

“You waited,” came a voice from behind him.

He turned to find Kate approaching, a ghost of her former distress still evident behind her eyes, but otherwise, she looked remarkably composed.

“Didn’t feel right leaving you here.” Nick stood, pocketing his cell phone and filing away the text he might send later. 

“You were right,” Kate said. “The doctor gave me an Ativan and a referral in case it happens again. But man, I hope it doesn’t happen again.”

Nick smiled down at her. Part of him—the part woven from years of being responsible—couldn’t bear the thought of leaving her alone after what happened. “Well then, let’s get you home.” 

They fell into step together, moving through the sliding doors and into the cool night air. 

“My apartment is across the street from the Hancock, so it’s only a few blocks if you don’t mind walking,” Kate said. “I could use more of this fresh air.” 

“That works. My car is in the parking garage at the office, so I have to go that way.”

“Thanks again for…for being so kind,” she said.

“Hey, no problem,” Nick replied, tilting his head with a half-smile. “We’ve all got our battles, right?”

“Right,” she agreed. “So, speaking of battles, how’d you get so lucky to be connected to that band tonight?”

Nick chuckled. “I don’t know if I’d use the word lucky, but it’s part of the agent gig I have Paradox Management. Not all my clients are as terrible as tonight’s embarrassment.”

“Well, that’s reassuring.”

“And what about you?” he asked. “Can I assume you’re at Encore?”

“Good guess,” she said, sounding surprised. “I’m in charge of securing some of the smaller acts for next year’s Rock on the Water festival. It’s like herding cats, but it’ll be pretty amazing when everything comes together.”

Nick nodded. “I’ve known the owner of Paradox for years, and a few of my bands are performing at the festival. I’m surprised we haven’t run into each other at your office before this.”

“Nick, I—” Kate slowed as they approached Michigan Avenue. “Would you mind keeping what happened tonight between us? I’m still the new girl and want to be taken seriously there.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said as they neared the intersection by the Hancock building.

Kate took a deep breath and gazed up at him. “Well, now that my head’s cleared, can I ask how you know so much about Australia and Switzerland? Those were pretty unique random facts you shared.”

“So, you were paying attention.” Nick chuckled. “Let’s just say I’ve traveled a bit and like to read about the places I’m going.”

“Okay, but usually people read about landmarks to visit and where to find the best meal,” she said as they stopped at the Michigan Avenue light, her big green eyes widening in bewilderment.

“I do that, too.” He shrugged. “But, those were long flights. I had to keep myself entertained somehow—”

Suddenly, Kate leaned in and hugged him. She was in his arms for the second time that night, and it wasn’t just any hug. Her arms wrapped around him with familiarity, causing warmth to spread through his chest. 

The sound of the cars and pedestrians around them seemed to fade as she pulled back, a flicker of something more than gratitude in her eyes.

He knew that look. It was as if Kate could see beyond his carefully constructed walls, and in those few seconds, Nick felt the measured cadence of his life stutter.

He didn’t do impulsive, especially not with someone who wandered into his life mere hours ago. He swallowed hard as the professional in him screamed for order, but something about her gaze made him want to tell his inner executive to go to hell.

Then, she kissed him.

Their lips met for the briefest moment, but the kiss defied time.

Before he could wrap his arms around her and confirm that this was real, she was gone, joining the crowd and crossing the street while he stood there, frozen and speechless. 

The clamor of the voices and traffic flooded back into his ears, and he realized that his world, where logic and order reigned supreme, had just been irrevocably shaken. The adrenaline lingered in his system, mingling with something else—a newfound awareness that tugged at the corners of his well-structured life.

With his brother sober, somewhat sane, and traveling across the other side of the world trying to find himself, Nick knew he was uniquely positioned to negotiate his happiness for a change. With a scoff, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

“Jesus, man, get a grip,” he mumbled, even though her damn kiss still lingered.

***

Check out Tame My Racing Heart

Available at Amazon / Barnes & Noble