Nora's POV
"Just breathe," James murmurs against my hair. "Close your eyes and focus on breathing."
All I can manage is a shaky nod while tears continue streaming down my cheeks, soaking into his shirt. My mind reaches out desperately for my father's presence, and frustration builds when silence greets me.
Please, Dad. I need you right now.
"All finished," Lena announces, cutting the thread with scissors. "How are you holding up, Nora?"
"Honestly? I have no idea," I admit, lifting my head. Black spots dance across my vision like tiny stars.
"Could you grab me another washcloth?"
"Sure." I push myself to standing, immediately swaying as dizziness hits me hard. Stumbling toward the kitchen, I yank open cabinet after cabinet until I finally locate the linens. My hands shake as I gather several washcloths and towels before hurrying back.
Lena accepts one, dunking it in the bowl of water and wringing out the excess. "Bring me one more wet one," she instructs. "Plus a dry towel."
