Her only thought after that was to get out of town. To go where no one could find her.

“That’s unacceptable, Remington,” Brick said. He’d stepped into the room, crowding her against the bed. She could feel the heat pumping off him at her back. His aura was probably a roiling mess of frustration and anger.

She couldn’t exactly blame him.

“Do you at least have your daily meds?” he asked.

“I ran out two days ago,” she said in a small voice. She crossed her arms over her chest and hunched her shoulders against the judgment she was sure he was going to deliver.

Instead, she heard him sigh. Felt the heat of his breath on her neck.

“Come on then. Change out of your wet clothes, and let’s get it taken care of,” he said.

She turned to look at him. “What? No lecture?”

“I think you’ve been through enough for one day. I’ll lecture you tomorrow or the next day when I’m not so pissed off.”

She wasn’t going to say “thank you.” Because she didn’t want him to think he was forgiven for any of his other transgressions. Instead, she gave him a tight nod and skirted around him. “Fine,” she said.

* * *

Dr. Sara Ferrin was a tall, competent Black woman with a no-nonsense bedside manner. But Remi wasn’t fooled by her cool, professional demeanor. The woman was wearing Ferragamo pumps in the health center at the end of February. There was a human being with great taste beneath that white coat.

Unfortunately, right now, that human being was judging her. Racing into a rescue situation with no training. Going without a rescue inhaler for weeks. There would be no lollipops for Remi from the inimitable Dr. Ferrin.

“It was the cold and probably a bit of the adrenaline,” Remi said, wincing at the cold stethoscope on her back.

“Mmm,” Dr. Ferrin said.

“Oh. And then there was the yelling,” she added. “I did a lot of yelling. So that probably didn’t help.”

“You know what would help?” the doctor said mildly. “If you’d be quiet while I tried to listen to your lungs.”

“Oh. Right. Sorry,” Remi said. She felt compelled to further apologize but then decided the doctor would probably rather she shut her mouth.

So she sat still and breathed as she was told while Dr. Ferrin moved the stethoscope around her back.

“Okay,” the doctor said, sitting down on the rolling stool. “I think you got the albuterol in time to beat a more serious attack. But since I have you here, I’m going to want to run a test or two. Now, let’s talk.”

Talk. This was when Remi would have batted her eyelashes at the former island doctor and told him a funny story, and he’d let her off without a lecture.

Assessing brown eyes unwilling to be charmed studied her. “How is your condition management?”

“I manage it fine…usually,” Remi added.

“You were in here just days ago with your friend who was injured while messing around on the ice bridge. You’ve got a broken arm, and this is your second serious asthma attack in what? A month?”