October Ghosts (A Southern Romance Monthly) by CJ Hockenberry Read Free Book Online

over but Margo's hold kept him on his feet. She forced him to look at her. "Mar…"  
    "Sshh. Matt, where is your inhaler? I need you to calm down. You need to try and breathe slow —"  
    "I can't…" He gasped as his heart rate increased. He stumbled back and Margo lost her hold. Sweat rolled down his back as he turned and pressed himself into the wall. He could hear Margo talking, but all of his attention was focused on trying to breathe through the pain.  
    "Phil? I need you over in Matt's apartment. Now….yeah and it's a bad one… and if you've got the spare inhaler, bring it. I know what to do."  
    Matt slid down with his back against the wall. He pressed his hands against the cool surface of the wall as he tried to do what Margo said. He'd had his first asthma attack three years ago, when the stairs into the basement of a haunted house he'd been working on, gave and he fell through them and into an old well. Several hours passed before he was found. He discovered weeks later his ex had cut the stair supports. It had been the end of a string of disastrous accidents that left him beaten, bruised and hospitalized.  
    Since then he had been able to handle his asthma pretty well with Advair and used his emergency inhalers sparingly. But stressful situations always brought him back to that moment, trapped in the dark, in pain, and unable to breathe.  
    He heard Margo opening and closing drawers as she continued the old litany. "Sit back and relax, Matt…just lean against the wall and try to calm down and breathe slow. If you don't you're going to pass out and then it'll just get worse."  
    She was right. He knew she was right. But he couldn't do it! He couldn't get any air. And it hurt…oh God he forgot how bad it hurt .  
    "Found it!"  
    Margo was suddenly in front of him on the floor. She took his hands and wrapped them around the inhaler. He shook it and immediately shot the medication into his throat, trying to breathe at the same time.  
    He dropped the little blue inhaler and put his hands on Margo's as he felt his chest loosen. It still hurt, but the vise surrounding it was gone and he was able to pull some air in. It was slow at first, but Margo kept eye contact with him and he stared at her until he was breathing even. The door came open and Phil Johnson came in, the show's on set producer and director. He had an older man with him.  
    "How is he?" Phil asked as he knelt down beside Matt and Margo.  
    Matt saw him, heard him, and he was aware of the other man, but he was concentrating on breathing. Just…enjoying the wonder of taking in a breath of air.  
    "He's better. I found the inhaler. He didn't even have it on him."  
    "Well he hasn't had an attack in a few months. What set him off?"  
    Margo glanced at Matt. He licked his lips and rested against the wall. His breathing was ragged, but he was breathing. "She's been spotted in Roswell. Here."  
    "Who said she's here?" Phil's voice was clipped, sharp.  
    Margo answered. "I called some friends in New Orleans and they said she left a few days ago. She has family here. So I called them to ask if she was in town and they said yes."  
    Phil sighed. "So you felt it necessary to tell him?"  
    "He needs to know."  
    "Not if it's going to do this. Besides, there's a restraining order. She can't come within a hundred yards." Now Phil sounded irritated.  
    "Yeah but that doesn't mean she can't be in the same town."  
    "May I?" The older man said as he joined them. He had a little black bag with him and set it on the ground in front of Matt. "I've had some experience with asthma. One of my grandchildren has it."  
    "Oh," Phil said and shuffled back to allow the older man some room. "Margo, Matt, this is Dr. Henry Coleman. He's the retiring county ME."  
    Matt tried to laugh and coughed instead. That hurt his chest. "I'm not dead yet."  
    Dr. Coleman put a hand against Matt's neck, then he put the back of his fingers against his forehead. "No,