Our eyes met. She blushed and looked back down.
I didn’t know why nerves were starting to overcome me now, especially when last night I was so confident, brazen. It was easy, acting with my body, doing anything to find Macey’s pleasure. Sure, I might have spent the night replaying the moment when she put her hand around my cock and squeezed perfectly like she had been studying it for years, but well. She was always the bold one between us anyways.
“Macey, last night?—”
“Noah.” My name on her lips didn’t sound right. It was more of a croak or a gasp.
Macey pressed both palms against the counter, leaning forward. Something shifted in her expression as her breathing became shallow.
“Macey?” I moved the frying pan off the burner and put a hand on her shoulder. “What’s wrong?”
“Something…in the air.” She tried to take in a deep breath, but her shoulders shook with difficulty. “Like smoke or fire or…”
Dust.
Like I had just dusted off an insanely old cookbook, plus whatever else lingered in the back of the pantry.Fuck.
“Where’s your inhaler?” I pressed one hand to her cheek. Her breathing grew more labored. “Sweetheart, where is it?”
She flopped a hand in the direction of the bedroom and croaked out, “Purse.”
Without thinking, I darted across the kitchen, knocking over one of the barstools. My hands trembled as I rifled through her purse, finally pulling out the inhaler.
Macey sat on the floor, back against the island. Exhausted.Sweat dripped down her brow, like the action of breathing tired out her body.
“Here,” I urged, handing her the inhaler.
I squatted in front of her. My own breath caught in my throat as I watched her struggle to use it. For a few agonizing minutes, I could do nothing but listen to my heart pound in my chest and hold her free hand.
She took a few puffs in between deep breaths. It terrified me, how much something like asthma could impact not just your quality of life but your life in general. I made a vow in this moment to be more cognizant of our environments and Macey’s response. Maybe I could keep an inhaler stored in my apartment, too.
Logically, I knew this wasn’t my fault, but I couldn’t stop the feeling that I could have stopped it somehow. Order in fancy breakfast. Take her out.
How long had it been? A few minutes. Felt like hours.
Slowly, Macey’s breathing began to steady, the color returning to her cheeks. I let out a breath of my own.
She leaned her head forward onto my shoulder, and I rubbed her back.
“Are you okay?”
I felt more than saw her nod.
“Yeah. Just want to rest a little while.”
“Of course.” Her hair was silky soft under my touch. “Let’s get you back to bed.”
I helped her to her feet and back to the bedroom. Even though her breathing was stable, I could tell it had taken a toll on her. Physically, yes. But emotionally too. Like it was something she didn’t want me to see. I didn’t like that. I wanted to be there for her, asthma attack or not.
As I pulled the covers over her body, Macey curled in onherself and held tightly to my pillow. I sat on the edge of the bed, gently stroking her hair as she drifted back to sleep.
Remnants of fear still lingered in the back of my mind. This was normal for her but terrifying for me. I hated that it was part of life for her. But that was the thing about chronic illnesses—no matter how much you hate them, they won’t go away. All a loved one like me could do was educate myself on the best way to help and be supportive when they needed it.
I planned to stay here, watching like a guard, until she woke up again.
I texted Daphne while I waited.
Noah: How do I help someone who’s had an asthma attack?
