Red Gate came into view as they rounded the bend, and Remi sighed with relief. She didn’t know how much longer she could stand being held by Brick without either slapping him in the face or ripping her own pants off and shouting, “Take me, you fool.” Cleetus was a sturdy mount, but she doubted he’d be okay with them fucking on him.

When they got to the gate, Brick slid his hand out from under her shirt, his fingers blazing trails along her stomach. Like little tracks of fire.

Wordlessly, he dismounted and, before she could do the same, he plucked her off the horse and set her down.

Tired and mad, Remi opened the gate and let it slam behind her, hoping he’d just go away rather than see the whole doctor appointment thing through.

She unlocked the front door and let herself inside. The snow was falling onto the frozen crust of the lake beyond her wall of windows. Inside it was cozy and warm. She just wanted to curl up on the couch and sleep for a week.

Attacks always left her exhausted. But she couldn’t let Brick see that.

She found her purse, a patchwork leather in shades of greens, next to the dining table. Rifling through turned up nothing resembling her inhaler.

“Where the hell is it?” she muttered to herself.

She moved on to her toiletry bag in the bathroom and was pawing through it when she heard the front door open and close, the boots on the hardwood.

“Damn it,” she muttered.

No inhaler there.

Ignoring the looming, frowning cop in her living room who was staring at her with his arms crossed, she went into the bedroom and dragged her suitcases out of the closet and began going through the zippered pockets.

“Find it?”

Brick’s voice came from the doorway behind her.

Remi ignored him and opened the nightstand drawer. Shit. Where the hell was it?

She put her hands on her head and paced in front of the tiny closet, trying to pinpoint the last time she remembered having it. She always carried it to yoga class after her instructor had told her she was a “boner head” for not keeping it with her. She’d gotten in the habit of stashing it in whatever purse she was carrying.

She paused, mid-step.

The headlights in the mirrors. The hard jerk forward and the snap back.

“Fuck,” she whispered.

“What is it?” Brick asked grimly.

“I…I think I lost my inhaler in the accident.”

“You haven’t had one since you broke your arm?”

It was such a blur. The ride home. The pressure in her chest. The hospital afterward.

Remi swiped a hand over her face, trying to push the images away. Trying to focus on the present.

“I guess so,” she admitted.

It was irresponsible. Especially given the fact that she’d ended up in the emergency department with an asthma attack while her friend fought for her life in the ICU. That’s when the attending doctor had realized her arm was broken.