Page 60 of Beyond the Stroke

“I don’t know…maybe breathe less?”

That snarky tone of hers is usually a huge turn on but in this situation, it’s downright infuriating.

“Not funny.”

“You’re not funny,” she says calmly, focusing on her breathing. “You’re freaking out over n—nothing.”

“I’m freaking out because you act like breathing is optional!” I’m sure my frustration with her isn’t keeping with the calm environment she’s trying to create but I can’t fucking believe she doesn’t see this as an issue.

“Give me a minute.” She sucks in a deep, uneven breath before exhaling. “I’ll calm down.”

“No.” I shake my head, refusing to wait and see if she can breathe properly. “We’re getting this filled.” I hold up her inhaler.“Now.”

Picking up her purse, I motion for us to start walking in the direction of the club’s parking lot. Thankfully, Summer lets me guide her in that direction.

I’ll admit, her breathing isn’t as strained as it was when I pulled her out of the ocean, but I’m also not waiting around for it to progress to that. I can’t imagine how Summer feels. What it must feel like to struggle to get air into your lungs.

I’ve trained my body to go without oxygen for impossible stretches. Watching her now, I’d trade lungs with her if I could.

When I open the passenger door to my Jeep, she doesn’t protest, likely because she doesn’t have the spare air.

I pull out of the parking lot and head for the pharmacy.

“Rory, I can’t,” she says as we drive along. “A refill is nearly five hundred dollars to pay out of pocket.” She sucks in an unstable breath. “And I don’t have insurance.”

She’d told me before when I hurt her wrist, but at the time I didn’t think about the impact that would have on her ability to fill her inhaler prescription. I’ve always had health insurance, with my parents, and then through the team. As a professional athlete, I have the best coverage money can buy. It’s always been necessary for health and injury prevention, and when I had my surgery last year, it assured me top medical care. I hate that Summer can’t afford it.

I’d easily pay so much more so that Summer could breathe properly. But also, that’s an insane amount of money for necessary medication.

“Why’s it so expensive?”

“I can’t use the generic brand. I’m one of the small percent of people that it causes side effects in.”

“What are the side effects from the generic brand?” I ask.

“Heart palpitations.”

“Jesus Christ.”

With one hand on the steering wheel, I run my other hand through my hair in frustration.

“How long have you been rationing your medication?” I ask.

“I was doing okay. Then, I had some unexpected expenses that put me behind. Vet bills for Edgar, and my van needed maintenance. Things piled up and I had to skip a month.”

“Your life-saving medication should be top priority.” I turn to give her a pointed look to drive home my point. “We’re getting you that medication now.”

“Rory, I refuse to let you pay for it. It’s an obscene amount of money.”

Summer won’t take something for nothing. It’s endearing and annoying.

At the pharmacy, I pull into the lot and park my Jeep.

“I’m really…okay now.”

I turn to Summer.

“What about next time? When it’s a real attack and you can’t calm your breathing?”

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