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Black spots are floating in front of my vision and my head is hurting. I grope inside my bag where I keep my emergency inhaler. It’s nearly empty but if I can just squeeze a little something from the canister then it’ll be fine. I have to be fine. Chase and Parker depend on me.
“Evie! Evie, what’s going on?” Greer is jogging around the side of the shop.
“Inhaler,” I manage the word.
“Shit, fuck. You have asthma. Where?” Without waiting for a response, he snatches my bag from my hands and turns it upside down. He dumps the contents on the ground and drops to his knees. He rummages through everything before putting my inhaler in my hand. He wraps his hand around my fingers.
I bring it to my lips, taking a puff. The taste—cold and metallic—hits my tongue. There was no time to grab my spacer. My lungs are burning, and I’m doubled over, trying desperately to get that next breath in. There’s no sudden relief from the symptoms like they’d have you believe on TV. There’s only the desperate struggle for the next breath.
My visualizations aren’t helping right now. Nothing is. Every breath is getting harder, and I call on every ounce of my strength not to freak out. It feels like I’m being smothered. An invisible hand is around my lungs, crushing them.
“Take the inhaler again,” Greer says.
I shake it, but it’s useless. It’s empty.
Greer swears again and before I know what’s happening, he’s lifted me into his arms. He’s carrying me bridal style down the street. My cheek is against his t-shirt that’s damp with sweat, and I can hear his pounding heartbeat. The sound soothes me a little. I’m not alone and in the dark, struggling to breathe like when I was a kid.
Greer is here. He’s going to protect me.
A loud crash sounds, and I realize he must have kicked something. Then he’s shouting, “Doc! Doc! Get your ass out here right fuckin’ now!” His voice is tinged with a note of panic. It strikes me as weird that he never sounded panicked when he had paint in his eyes. But he’s panicking now.
Cash is running into the waiting room where several patients are staring at us as I try to drag in wheezing breaths. He rapidly fires questions at Greer who shoves the empty inhaler at Martha.
“Take her in the back room now,” she issues.
In less than a minute, I’m in the back room breathing in through a nebulizer. It’s a fine mist, like breathing in a shower, only the shower is cold and metallic.
It takes twenty minutes before my breathing returns to semi-normal. The entire time I’m sitting on Greer’s lap. He didn’t let me go. He just held me through the attack.
“How long have you had asthma?” Cash asks when I’m no longer wheezing. My chest hurts, and I’m exhausted. I want to lie down and sleep for a month.
“Since I was a kid,” I tell him. “I was a preemie.”
He nods. His medical knowledge means that he understands premature babies are more likely to develop asthma. “And it was under control?”
“Sort of. I had a script for a preventative inhaler twice a day and I kind of ran out of it. Then I ran out of my emergency inhaler just now,” I explain. My throat hurts from the inhaler doses and the wheezing. “
He asks me a few more follow-up questions before saying, “Since you’ve been missing doses, let’s fill the two inhalers and start a round of oral steroids to get everything under control again.”
He hands me three scripts. Well, he tries to hand them to me. Greer snatches them and scowls. “I’ll take care of her.”
Cash nods. “See that you do, Greer. Evie, see me after lunch tomorrow for a follow-up. We’ll get you monitored.”
I nod and follow Greer out of the clinic. When we’re on the sidewalk, I blow out a breath. Martha dismissed me from my duties for the afternoon.
“Thanks,” I tell him and start toward my car.
“Where are you going?” He demands.
“I’m going to the apartment.” I’ll binge some carbs and sleep for an hour before the boys will be home. Hank is making the trip to Sweetgrass this afternoon. He was thrilled at the idea of getting to spend time with them.
Greer wraps a hand around my upper arm and tugs me down the sidewalk toward the old brick pharmacy. “The hell you are.”
Chapter6
Evie
Iplant my feet on the sidewalk. My bossy cowboy is so big that he could drag me anywhere he wanted. He already proved that by picking me up and carrying me into the clinic. My stomach swoops at the memory. “I’m not going to the pharmacy just yet. I’ll do it later.”
