Free Breaking Her No-Dating Rule by Amalie Berlin Page A

Chelsea’s missing fiancé Jude still out in the wind, Chelsea was sharing the suite with Nate, brother to the other woman, and odd man out.
    “He insists the cold air is easier to breathe,” Duncan said, briefing Ellory on what was going on. They’d moved a chair to the sliding window so he could sit and breathe...but in Ellory’s estimation it wasn’t helping.
    “Looks like that thing that happened with me last year,” Duncan said, more to Anson than to her now.
    How many years had Anson been doing this?
    “Damage done to the respiratory system from the cold,” Anson filled in, looking at Ellory’s stash of medicines and supplies and then pointing to the inhaler she carried. “Pop the seals and shake it hard.”
    He listened to Nate’s lungs again, leading him through breaths that were supposed to be deep but which ended up rasping and wheezing loudly.
    “Had you been sick before you got here, Nate?” Anson asked, the concern in his eyes enough to worry Ellory. She prepped and shook the inhaler harder and faster.
    When the man chose to nod rather than speak, she had a clue about how serious the situation was.
    Questions flew about allergies, Nate answering with shakes and nods of his head. He couldn’t do anything but try to breathe.
    Did he have any allergies? Yes. Food? No. Medicine? Yes.
    In less than a minute Anson had gotten enough info to feel safe about giving the man the inhaler. He’d also started preparing some kind of injection.
    “Nate, Duncan is going to pull you back into the room. I want you to breathe out as much as you can, Ellory is going to puff the inhaler by your mouth and you breathe it in deeply.”
    Anson looked between her and Duncan, making sure they knew their jobs. She liked it that he didn’t repeat himself, didn’t give them any extra instructions, just trusted them to handle things. It might not be the right call for every situation, but even she could handle an inhaler.
    On the count of three, they all stepped in. While Duncan supported most of Nate’s weight, Ellory watched him breathe out, holding his gaze. When he’d gotten out as much as he could, she gave him two puffs of the inhaler as he struggled to breathe in. Anson pushed Nate’s sleeve up and injected something into the man’s triceps, which he then rubbed to disperse.
    His skin was very pale, maybe even a little bit blue—another skin color she could add to the shades that terrified her, right after the shade of Chelsea’s poor toes.
    Anson flipped the cap closed and handed the needle to Ellory, turned Nate’s chair and helped settle him back into it...still near the window but not with his head hanging out.
    Long terrible seconds ticked as Anson listened to his chest again, coaching him through the breaths as they slowly began to come easier.
    She found herself breathing deeply, trying to breathe for the poor man, and noticed Anson doing the same thing. A quick look around the room confirmed it. They all breathed slowly, deeply, in unison, five other sets of lungs trying to do the work of one who struggled to breathe. All worried. All invested. All hoping it helped somehow. She felt part of something good, like she did on her missions, and it was probably silly since all she’d done was be the gofer and puff an inhaler. Still, it felt good.
    As Nate’s breathing stabilized, everyone else’s returned to normal... And that was what she had trouble letting go of. Not the drama and the fear of his fight for air but how for a few seconds all anyone had cared about was helping make Nate’s world better. It didn’t matter what kind of lifestyle these people led, they were still people. She didn’t even have to wonder what her father would’ve wanted to happen in those seconds. He wouldn’t have batted an eyelid if Nate had died. One less consumer, one less parasite devouring the planet while giving nothing back... She could almost hear the tirade.
    Anson closed the window and came around, hand held out