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I took a deep breath and trudged toward my bedroom. Even my night owl neighbors upstairs were quiet, it must be beyond late. I shucked my leggings and pulled my top off, tossing them in the basket in the corner before grabbing my pj’s from beneath my pillow and slipping them on. The soft lavender pants and shirt felt like silk compared to the stiff hospital gown.

I shuddered. Not thinking about it.

Heart arrhythmia.

Nope.

ER bills.

Nope, not thinking about that either.

Possible bankruptcy coming my way.

Hard no.

First kiss with Jimmy.

Now, his kiss I could focus on.

Kissing Jimmy had been full of tingly goodness. His rough hands had cupped my face, and he watched for any signs of reluctance before moving in. Spoiler alert: there were none. I’d pushed up on my toes to get closer, and he tugged my hips forward until his thigh could push between mine. Jimmy’s lips and tongue knew their way around a quality make-out session. At least, aside from the passing out part. That sucked. But Jimmy hadn’t. He’d been darn sweet all night. He didn’t have to stay. He didn’t have to try to make me laugh. In the crap sandwich of this day, he’d been the highlight.

My eyelids felt like they had five-pound weights attached. Whether it was fatigue from my arrhythmia, or plain dog tiredness, I didn’t know. I stumbled into the bathroom and took one of the pills from the pharmacy with a sip of water. My grimace as I swallowed was part disgust at pill swallowing and part stomach-churning anxiety over the cost of my meds. I had nearly choked when the pharmacist quoted me eight-hundred dollars at the counter. There was no way in hell I could afford to live on this medication for the rest of my life without better insurance. With the new year and the reset of my high deductible right around the corner, I was going to be flat broke by March.Not thinking about it.

***

Bright light filteredinto my room, which for fall in Tacoma, meant it was late. Very late. Early mornings were usually murky with clouds. Direct sunlight meant the low clouds had time to burn off to reveal crisp blue skies. Luckily, it was Sunday, and I had no clients scheduled. I could roll over and go back to bed. Unfortunately, my bladder had other ideas. Everything felt normal as I took care of my morning routine. Steady heart rate. Normal color in my cheeks. Maybe last night had been a fluke. The orange pill bottle on the counter said differently. Take daily.Ugh.

Drat.Calling my parents was going to have to wait. My phone was a dark brick on the bathroom counter. I hated it when I forgot to charge it, and it was beyond dead. Taking my pill had thrown off my nighttime routine. After washing my hands, I moved it back to the charger by my bed and went to the kitchen to brew coffee.

I gave the linoleum a dirty look as I crossed the threshold. Scene of the crime.Stupid floor.Stupid heart. I was too young to have health issues; what twenty-nine-year-old had a heart arrhythmia? Those were supposed to be reserved for old age. After I’d lived my life. I’d barely gotten started. While it was true I’d achieved one of my goals, getting my massage therapy license and business off the ground, I hadn’t done any of the other things in my plans.

I wanted to grow my business into a full spa and be successful in my own right. My own building and staff, luxury scrubs and baths that took my business beyond massage. A place for women to come to recharge from daily life. My own little haven.

And what about the other things I wanted to do with my life? Was it too late to tour Europe? What if my meds weren’t enough, and I collapsed abroad, surrounded by strangers? How many languages could you get a medical alert bracelet in? And not that I was anywhere near ready for a husband and kids yet, but would my body even be strong enough to have children?

Stupid heart. Stupid body.

I relied on my body for my business. I had to stay healthy. Massage therapy was not for the weak. My income relied on me working. One of the harsher realities of self-employment was no paid sick time. Paying off school debt didn’t leave much left for savings, and most of what I’d accumulated would probably go to medical bills. The doctor hadn’t said I couldn’t work but passing out on top of a client would be a bad look. My very expensive medication had better do the trick.

Coffee in hand, I wandered back to my room and picked up my phone. Lisa would understand my dilemma. She rented the room next to me at the spa where we worked and still talked about her T-rex days reaching around her giant belly to do massage while nine months pregnant. Her daughter turned nineteen in May.

My phone had charged enough that I could see my text notifications. My pulse pinged as I realized I had messages from my dad, Lisa, and Jimmy.

Dad: Hi honey. We miss you.

My dad was a big softie. I’d moved to the Puget Sound from our small town on the other side of Washington state for my massage therapy program and stayed in Tacoma. My parents and brothers were settled in Colville and they were usually too busy to check on me.

Melena: Miss you too. Will call you later today.

What was I going to tell my parents? They loved me and would help if they could, but I didn’t want to be a burden. I was well beyond the age where I could go on their insurance. They’d give me money, but it would come with strings attached. Massive strings, encouraging me to move back home. I couldn’t go back. Colville wasn’t bad. It just wasn’t for me. Their good intentions would smother me if I moved home. Nemitz Construction would pull me back into its orbit, and I’d end up working part-time in the office to make ends meet. Colville wasn’t big enough to support another massage therapist or a spa.

Lisa: How was your date with Smokey Bear?

I chuckled. Lisa enjoyed living vicariously through my dating efforts. She said it made her appreciate her husband more.

Melena: Good, except the passing out part.

I didn’t wait for her response, and instead toggled to Jimmy’s message.