Chapter One
QUINN
“ T hat’ll be three hundred and thirty-two dollars and eight cents.”
“Three hundred dollars?” I squawked back, staring at the pharmacist in disbelief.
“And thirty-two dollars and eight cents.”
I balked. “That’s outrageous. Did you run it through my insurance?”
“Yes.” His bored tone and dry look implied he didn’t appreciate such a stupid question.
Well, I didn’t appreciate price gouging for life-saving medication. So, we were both disappointed by this turn of events, buddy.
“That has to be a mistake.” I shook my head, my fingers itching to run through my hair and pull it out. I pinned my hand to my side. “Can you please run it again?”
He blinked at me, my plea falling short of a tug on his heartstrings. But he tapped his keyboard and refreshed the information.
He shook his head. “Same total.”
I began to sweat.
Swiping at my temples, I gave in to the urge and ran my hand over my scalp. I searched for the scar hidden beneath my hair. My bracelet snagged on random strands, pulling them free of my messy bun.
They floated to the floor while my anxiety shot through the roof.
The customer behind me coughed. Lightly at first, but then distinctly clearing his throat. He let out a heavy breath.
As if I didn’t know how long this was taking.
It required all the patience I possessed to stay focused on the pharmacist.
“Okay, well…” I swallowed the pride that hated having to admit, “I can’t afford that.”
“We can hold it for you for a few days.”
“Can you call my doctor and check the prescription with him? Maybe he entered it wrong by mistake? He’ll fix it if you tell him the issue. He knows how much I need this medicine.”
I had the copays for five follow-up visits to show for it.
The pharmacist sighed. “I can try.”
While I mentally bowed to him in thanks for doing his job, he disappeared into the back.
I pulled my clutch from the pocket of my oversized hoodie, ignoring the shuffle of feet behind me. Bypassing my debit card with its dismally low balance and glaring at my useless insurance card, I hunted for my remaining cash. But the wad of crumpled bills barely covered one puff of the overpriced medicine.
I needed it twice on a daily basis.
My breathing grew tighter. Shaking out my palms, I pulled in a breath through my nose, counting to four before trying to release it slowly.
It came out in a rush.
I’d run out of my medication yesterday, my last inhaler delivering nothing but empty air for my second dose. The only reason I hadn’t panicked then was because I had my appointment today. I planned to get the medication right after.
But if I couldn’t afford it…
My throat constricted reflexively, as if I needed the reminder. I pushed up onto the balls of my feet and sank down, staring into the back of the pharmacy like I could will the pharmacist to return with my mind.
Each slow breath I dragged in felt like sipping air through a straw—the one on the juice boxes they gave to kids.
I was just a kid. I wasn’t supposed to do this all on my own. My dad?—
“Your doctor said the prescription is correct.” The pharmacist set the box on the counter in front of me. “But we don’t have a generic version, and that’s all your plan covers. He sent in an order for your old inhaler, but he said to tell you the one he prescribed today would probably work better.”
My fingers itched to grab the box and run.
But before I could travel down that darker path, the pharmacist covered it with his hand and slid it back toward him, drawing my eyes up.
“How long would it take you to fill the prescription for my old inhaler?”
He glanced at the line of customers growing behind me. “An hour, maybe?”
Handing over my debit card, I prayed it would go through and asked him to try it. A second later, the computer beeped loudly with that buzzer sound.
Because having a card decline wasn’t bad enough unless everyone within thirty feet knew about it.
“Your card declined,” he stated, clearly for good measure. “Want to try another one?”
“No.” My pulse raced. Blood rushing in my ears, I tried to think past the need for oxygen. “Is there a coupon code or something?”
“I can check.”
I closed my eyes as he clicked away at the keyboard, already knowing how his search would end. Of course, there wouldn’t be a coupon. Or if there was, it wouldn’t be enough to cover all of what I couldn’t afford.
“I found one coupon code,” he said, perking my head up. “One hundred and seven dollars and four cents.”
Lemons.
The word pounded in my ears. The scent rose up in my nose. Life had been handing me nothing but lemons since my dad died. And I couldn’t keep taking the hits.
I pressed my hands to my temples like that might shield me from the blows. “Can you fill the other one?”
But before the pharmacist could respond, a voice came from behind my back—a deep, rich sound that poured over me like honey.
“Whatever the medication costs, I’ll cover it.”
If I hadn’t been tits-deep in the quicksand of panic, the offer would’ve soothed me.
Instead, I sank lower.
Shame spiraled me deeper, the humiliation occluding my throat. It threatened to bury my head completely.
But before panic could swallow me whole, my mysterious benefactor stepped forward.
My attention caught on broad shoulders and sculpted arms. A hand drawing circles on the side of his thigh. And dark amber eyes, solemn and beautiful, staring straight ahead.
Dressed in all black, he looked like an angel fallen from grace. To me, he felt like a savior. And I responded viscerally to that first sight of him, as he pulled me back to the surface.
My lungs expanded with a gasp.