“Do you have your inhaler?” I asked, glancing at him in the mirror.
He nodded. Or at least I thought he did.
We were supposed to go to my sister Rachel’s place for a few hours. Mark had mentioned earlier that his mom was coming over.
“Just tea,” he’d said casually, scrolling through his phone.
Which, in Helen-language, usually meant an inspection.
I didn’t have the energy for that kind of evening. The kids were bickering about whose turn it was to pick the cartoon at Aunt Rachel’s when something hit me.
Hard.
“Wait,” I said, slowing the car. “Leo, where’s your inhaler?”
He froze. “I think… I left it on my desk.”
My stomach tightened instantly.
I checked the time. Checked the distance. Checked my patience.
“We’ll just run back,” I said, already turning the car around.
“You two stay buckled. I’ll be fast.”
Emma groaned. “Mom, we’re going to be late.”
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