“10-13.”
“Avalanche risk…”
The static jumbled the rest of the feed and made it hard to make out.
I sighed. “Fuck.”
Rachel pushed some of her hair out of her face. Fittingly, she was wearing deer earrings today. How ironic. “Oh God, now we’re really gonna need to call Mia Farrow for help.”
“Shut up.” I rolled my eyes.
“I cope with humor. You’re going to have to get used to it. We’re probably stuck here for the night if the storm’s got that elk all riled up.”
“You’re right. Fuck, I hope Squatch is okay.” I checked my phone and pocketed it, trying to ignore the still-banging door that made the whole place vibrate and would inevitably cause a headache. “No service, either.”
“I’m sure he will be fine. Oh, and if you need your meds, I have some.” She patted her front pack with one hand.
“Wait, you do?”
“Yeah. Okay, confession time. I went to the local dispensary when I was running errands this morning with a picture I snuck of your label over Thanksgiving. We spend so much time together, so I thought it would be good to always have some on hand, just in case.”
The issue of her having snuck a photo of my medication label went over my head; this was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for me. I blinked at her, unsure of what to say to convey my thanks properly. “That’s really kind of you. Seriously, thank you. I hope you used the company card I gave you.”
She shrugged with a giggle. “Don’t worry about it. It wasn’t that much, plus they gave me a coupon for being a first-time customer.”
“I’ll reimburse you on your next check.”
“Juniper, seriously. It’s fine. Back home, I had a friend who was allergic to acetaminophen, so I’d carry ibuprofen in my purse all the time. This is no different as far as I’m concerned.”
“Well, Rachel, thank you. You’re a lifesaver. That elk really fucked us over, but I’m glad at least one of us came slightly prepared.”
“The guy who comes out with the snowplow should be here tomorrow morning, anyway. We’ll be able to survive the night, I’m sure. I also have snacks in here.”
“My water bottle has a filter in it, so we’re good on that front, too. The plumbing should work in here, so assuming the pipes don’t freeze, we can grab it from the kitchen sink.”
“Perfect! See?” She moved to the sink to turn the faucet enough to let it drip. “We’ll be fine.”
As much as I wanted to believe her, I was very much not fine. As Rachel took her protein bars from her bag to set them on the table, I sat on the edge of the couch to collect my breath. While snowstorms weren’t uncommon, there hadn’t been an avalanche risk on this part of the mountain since my snowboarding accident.
My breathing felt sharp, but not from the cold. As my elbows landed on my knees and my hands pushed back my hair, my gaze unfocused on the floor between my wool sock-covered feet. I wasn’t sure how long I sat like that or when Rachel approached since I hadn’t heard the shuffling of her feet, but I snapped out of it when she was crouched in front of me.
“Juniper?”
I opened my mouth to speak, but I wasn’t sure what to tell her. Rachel seemed to understand me even without words, though.
“Anxiety attack? Hey, we’ll get through it. Come on, let’s take some deep breaths together. I know it sounds cheesy, but it can help, okay? Ready?”
Rachel took the lead, taking slow breaths in and out with purpose. I followed suit until we synchronized, at which point she conducted three more breaths. After the third, she reached up for my lower eyelids and wiped one at a time with her thumb.
“Fuck.” It was all I could say. I yanked my beanie off my head and tossed it on the coffee table.
“It’s okay, Juniper. I’m here. We’re gonna be okay.”
“This is so embarrassing.” As my head fell between my knees, my bun unraveled.
“Nothing embarrassing about it, I promise.”
“Easy for you to say. No one’s ever seen me like this.Ever.”