Chapter 19

Chapter

Nineteen

Rhonda

Rhonda passed exam rooms dotting the long hall and exited to the waiting area. It was only ten forty-five, but it felt like five. Not a good sign for a Monday. At least she had her car back thanks to a rideshare the day before, and now she only had one more stop to make. Medical billing on the admin side of Hilltop Medical. The staff was having issues with rebates not being applied in a timely manner, and that was the last thing she wanted to see when they were barely starting to offer Reviact to patients.

She walked past the pharmacy and glanced up, then paused when she saw a name on the digital prescription board. Claire Wheatfill. She blinked. It wasn't that “Wheatfill” was terribly uncommon, but it wasn't “Jones” or “Smith” either. She stepped forward and scanned the patrons seated in the waiting area. Her eyes landed on a woman in the corner. She had light hair, but her bone structure was unmistakable. Jordan said his sister was on Reviact. There was a chance she’d be at this pharmacy, since it was one of the only ones up north that offered it. If that wasn't her . . . then he had a long-lost doppelganger.

Rhonda hesitated for a moment, then walked forward. “Hey. Are you Jordan's sister?” She gave a smile that was more like a grimace. How weird was it that she was approaching this woman randomly in a pharmacy?

The woman looked up. Her eyes were the same blue as Jordan's. She wore knitted gloves with a flap pulled back, exposing her fingers, and a coat that looked a couple of sizes too big for her. Rhonda's heart clenched, remembering what Jordan had told her in his apartment.

"Hey, yes, Jordan is my brother." Claire's eyes were flighty, moving between the other people in the waiting room and Rhonda's face above her. Rhonda sat down in the chair next to her.

"I'm so sorry. I don't mean to bother you. I just had to say hi. Jordan is . . ." Rhonda hesitated, thinking of the right word. "Well, he's helping me make some contacts at the Rocky Ridge Medical Center where he works."

Claire nodded. "Are you the person who told him about this new medication?"

"Reviact?” Rhonda clarified.

Claire nodded her head. "Yeah. He told me about it. And I did my trial. I'm actually picking up my full monthly prescription right now." A smile flirted with the corner of her lips.

Rhonda grinned. "Oh, that's amazing. Hopefully that means it’s been a good thing?"

Claire's teeth scraped along her bottom lip. She lowered her voice. "I don't know how much Jordan has told you, but it's been years since I found anything that helped."

Rhonda nodded. "You're not the only one. I was just talking with the staff here, and there are so many people who struggle coming off their medications for a million different reasons."

Claire let out a puff of air. "Yeah. Well, struggling is a mild word."

Rhonda wanted to reach out and hug her. Instead, she clasped her hands in her lap.

"Listen. I have one more stop to make, and then I was planning to go get lunch. I know you're still waiting for your prescription, but I would love to talk to you more about this—hear your experience. I won't share anything you tell me unless you give permission, but I love hearing patients' experiences. It helps me understand how best to approach hospital administrators."

Claire seemed to sink into herself. “Oh, I can’t?—”

“My treat. This would be so helpful.”

Claire drew a deep breath, then glanced back up at the board. Her name was next. “Okay. That sounds great.”

“Perfect. I’ll be back in just a second. Meet you back here?” Rhonda waited for Claire to nod then headed toward administration.

Rhonda quickly made her way to the offices and jumped in. Since the staff members weren't waiting with bated breath to assist her with every need, it took a moment to get the account numbers and specific issues linked with each patient.

She decided not to tackle it right then and instead saved the information on her tablet to work on later, not wanting to press her luck with Claire still waiting in the lobby.

Fifteen minutes later, Rhonda hustled back and found Claire still seated on the same chair in the pharmacy waiting area, this time with a white paper bag sitting next to her.

Rhonda smiled brightly.

"You ready?"

Claire nodded, picked up the bag, and followed her through the sliding glass doors onto the street. There was a Moxie's a block and a half away that, based on Rhonda's web search, had just opened for the day. They walked mostly in silence and found they were among the first customers to arrive.

Rhonda was grateful to sneak in before the lunch rush. She requested a table for two and suggested they sit in a corner booth. That way, as the restaurant started to fill up, it would still feel private.

They sat, and the hostess handed them menus.

"Sorry. I didn't even ask if you like Moxie's." Rhonda slid a menu toward Claire.

"It used to be one of my favorites, but I haven't been here in a long time." Claire ran her finger over the edge of the plastic-covered menu.

Rhonda flipped hers over. "I know they have a lunch deal, but you can get whatever you want. This is on the company card."

"What do you like here?" Claire asked.

"Honestly, I love a big salad. Put some grilled chicken or salmon on there. Keeps me full, but doesn't make me feel like I need a nap at two o'clock."

Claire laughed at that. Rhonda was quiet a moment, giving her time to peruse. When Claire slid her menu to the edge of the table, Rhonda mirrored her and looked up.

"So I know it hasn't been very long, but have you experienced any of the side effects?"

Claire shook her head. "No. I haven't felt sick or had any dizziness or headaches. Well, I guess I should say no more than usual when I'm trying to get sober."

Rhonda worked to keep her face impassive, ensuring there was no flicker of judgment between them. Just like when she'd seen her in the pharmacy, her heartstrings tugged. It wasn't just a patient sitting in front of her. It was Jordan's sister.

Their server appeared and dropped off water. Rhonda opened her paper straw and plunked it in her glass. She’d use it until it got mushy, then abandon it and drink straight from the lip. She was all for saving the planet, but there had to be a better way. "Well, that's really good to hear. Does Jordan know that it's working well for you?"

Claire grimaced. "No. I haven't talked with him yet. I kind of . . ." She glanced down. "Well, I don't want to get his hopes up. He knows I've picked it up, though." She fingered the paper bag. "He offered to pay for it."

Rhonda's eyes widened, her thoughts spinning. Even with the rebates, a full month prescription was nearly four hundred dollars. She’d talked with Cantra about creating a needs-based payment strategy but hadn't been successful yet.

They had generous rebates, yes, but she hated that patients had to pay that much. She also understood how much went into building a new drug—the testing, the research, all of it was astronomical. She was grateful for innovation, and it also broke her heart a little that it couldn't be accessible to everyone.

Their server stopped by, and Rhonda put a hand on the table. "If I order a pot of tea, will you share it with me?"

Claire nodded.

“Any allergies I need to be aware of?” The server asked.

“Peanuts,” they both said in unison.

“And all legumes, including Fenugreek.” Claire added.

They laughed, and Rhonda ordered the tea and a chopped salad, adding the grilled chicken. Claire ordered the chicken sandwich with a side salad and a bowl of tomato soup. Their server took the menus and retreated back to his station.

"So how do you know Jordan?" Claire asked.

Rhonda winced internally. Which version of the story did she want to tell? Well, Claire, I found myself at your brother's hotel room and ended up sleeping with him without even asking for his name. Or, I ended up in his urgent care with my face blown up to the size of a watermelon because of a fenugreek allergy while on a date with another man.

"Do you know him from hockey?" Claire asked.

"Yes." That was the simplest explanation. Rhonda smiled. "I'm really good friends with some guys on another hockey team here in Calgary. They play Pucks Deep."

Just then, their server reappeared, incredibly attentive since he had no other tables to work with at the moment. He set down their pot of tea and two mugs. The pot was beautiful, clear glass with loose leaf swirling in steaming hot water, a filter built into the top.

He filled both their mugs, and Rhonda thanked him.

Claire waited until he was a few paces away to lean in. "Which team?"

Rhonda thought about lying but wasn't sure how much Claire knew about the Elite League scene in Calgary. Maybe she was only asking to be polite. "The Snowballs," she answered.

The look on Claire's face told her all she needed to know. Claire was indeed familiar.

"So you don't have a great impression of him then?" Claire picked up her mug, warming her hands.

"I try not to form opinions of people based on third-party information."

Claire snorted. "Isn't that what that entire team does? They heard a couple of stories about him from fifteen years ago and now hold a grudge."

Rhonda considered this. She had heard the stories from fifteen years ago, but there were plenty more where that came from. "I think it might be a little more complicated."

Claire set down her mug and leaned back in the booth. "More complicated for who? I could kick Sean Thompson's ass. Honestly, I could kick both their asses."

The metamorphosis left Rhonda awestruck. Claire transformed from a hesitant, mousy woman into a badass, overprotective sister. She was immediately in.

Rhonda planted her elbows on the table. "Well, I think it's about time I heard everything from your perspective."

Claire shook her head, her eyes still flashing. "Both of them are idiots. Do you know when Jordan and Sean were kids, they were completely inseparable? I'm talking at our house 24/7 or Jordan was over at the Thompsons'. They played on every team together, hung out after practice, did homework together, traveled to tournaments, and always roomed together. If Jordan got an opportunity to advance, he would talk to the coaches until Sean was invited too, and vice versa.

"When they got to college, it was a little more complicated, and I guess I understand that. They were both trying to go pro, and the opportunities were a lot bigger. But they still had each other's backs. And then everything with the draft . . . “

Claire ran a hand through her hair. "Sean had been dating this girl for probably two years. She was nice, but she had this weird fascination with Jordan. She was always flirting with him. Sean hated it, but she pretended it was completely innocent. Told him she was just trying to get under Jordan's skin because Sean loved Jordan more than her. Honestly, it was probably true."

"So what? Jordan just gave in?"

Claire shook her head. "No. He would never do that. I know everybody sees Jordan now as this bruiser, but he has the softest heart of anybody I know. I think he's just had it mashed up so many times. He resents himself for it now instead of wearing it as a badge of honor."

Rhonda blinked, feigning nonchalance, pretending she wasn't inscribing that in her permanent memory.

"Anyway, Sean's girlfriend went to Jordan one night and told him that Sean broke up with her, gave him this whole sob story. She completely took advantage of him."

Rhonda frowned. "I don't understand. Why would that break up a friendship?"

Claire threw up her hands. "Exactly. It shouldn't have. Sean should have ditched her the second he heard the story."

"So why didn't he?" Rhonda asked.

Claire leaned in. "Because he never heard the story."

"What?"

"Yeah. That's why I want to throttle them. It's been over a decade, and they've still never talked about it. Sean was so pissed off, he wouldn't take Jordan's texts. After trying a few times, Jordan just gave up. Neither of them fought for their friendship, which is ridiculous because it was a damn good one.

"Then Jordan went to the NHL, got injured, and came back to Calgary. I honestly don't know all of Sean's story. But now they're in this league with this stupid rivalry.”

Rhonda grimaced. “I think it's with the whole team, not just with Jordan."

Claire blew out a breath. "Yeah. Well, that makes sense too. Jordan likes to collect misfits. That's why he still takes my calls."

Rhonda moved her arms off the table as their server appeared with their food. It was a little too fast for comfort, but she was starving, so didn't question it. They ate and continued to chat until Rhonda found a natural opportunity to quell more of her curiosity.

"Is Jordan a relationship guy?" Rhonda focused hard on her salad.

Claire shook her head. "No, he's had a couple of doozies."

"The heart mashing?"

Claire scoffed. "To put it mildly. Jordan is a giver. He gives and gives and gives and never expects anything in return. And that would be fine if he had anyone in his life who was looking out for him." She swirled her spoon in her soup. "I should be that for him. I want to be that for him, but I haven't been able to pull myself together in a long time."

Rhonda took another bite, for the first time in ages dumbstruck. Without meaning to, she blurted, "He saved me in a snowstorm the other day."

Claire glanced up. "What?"

"Yeah. I was driving home from Edmonton, and the snow got so bad I couldn't see anything. I pulled over on the side of the road. He had called me to tell me about this meeting with the doctor at the hospital, and I think I hung up on him. I don't even remember. I was so stressed out. Twenty minutes later, he showed up in his truck, helped me get my car off the road, and drove me home." She left out the end of that story, but a blush rose to her cheeks. She cleared her throat. "Anyway, I guess I see what you're talking about."

Claire dabbed her lips with a napkin. "Yeah. That sounds like my brother. Maybe your team needs to hear stories like that."

They finished their meal, and Rhonda got a few more specifics about Claire's journey with Reviact. She was sober for two weeks, which Claire said she'd accomplished before, but never so painlessly. Rhonda gave Claire her number and asked her to give her an update at the end of the month if she was up for it.

They went their separate ways, but by the time Rhonda got in her car, she couldn't stop her hands from shaking. That sounded like my brother. Jordan had gotten her a meeting with Mallory. He'd saved her from a freaking snowstorm. And what had she done in return?

Absolutely nothing.

But what could she do in return? Sitting in the front seat of her car, she felt so vulnerable, she wanted to throw up. Doing something in return, saying thank you, would mean admitting that she needed the help.

It would mean accepting that she couldn't do everything on her own. And what Jordan had done for her was so big, so astronomical. How could she ever begin to repay it?

This was why she didn't accept help. She didn't want to be in anyone's debt. But the idea of returning to her house and doing nothing opened up a chasm so deep her eyes nearly welled up.

Rhonda started her car and drove toward Jordan's apartment complex. On the way, she stopped at a co-op and went in, spending an exorbitant amount of time searching for something to drop off that wouldn't be completely pathetic. Did he like sweets or savory? She didn't even know.

She ended up with a package of brownie bites, some gourmet cheese, olives, and freshly baked sourdough. It was a ridiculous concoction, but it was the only thing she could come up with.

Rhonda drove the rest of the way, not even having to plug it into her maps app. All it took was one time with him, and she had everything memorized.

Before she could second guess herself, she flung herself from the car, grabbed the grocery sack, and strode to the elevator. When she arrived on his floor, she walked down the hall as quietly as possible, set the items down in front of his door, and was about to walk away when a male voice behind her said,

"Hey, Rhonda."

She nearly jumped out of her skin, and in so doing, slammed her hand against Jordan's door. She spun. Darcy stood ahead of her in the hall. Before she could open her mouth, the door behind her swung open.