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    Breath of Fresh Air: The Chronic Warrior Chronicles, #6
    Breath of Fresh Air: The Chronic Warrior Chronicles, #6
    Breath of Fresh Air: The Chronic Warrior Chronicles, #6
    Ebook97 pages1 hourThe Chronic Warrior Chronicles

    Breath of Fresh Air: The Chronic Warrior Chronicles, #6

    By Angie Thompson

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    About this ebook

    How could the doctor go this far?


    As the newest member of the team, Brady shouldn't be surprised that he's not the last. But nothing prepared him to face a panicked teen with the lung capacity to bring the building down around their ears.

    Marcus Robinson is sweet, friendly, likeable—and way too young to bring into the group without letting his family in on the secret. Will his unique strengths be enough to earn him a place in the den? Or will the risks to the rest of the team prove insurmountable?

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherQuiet Waters Press
    Release dateJan 10, 2025
    ISBN9781951001414
    Breath of Fresh Air: The Chronic Warrior Chronicles, #6
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    Author

    Angie Thompson

    An avid reader and incurable story-spinner, Angie Thompson also enjoys volunteering in her church's children's program and starting (but not always finishing) various kinds of craft projects. She currently lives in central Virginia near most of her incredible family, including two parents, six brothers, one sister, and six siblings-in-law—plus five nieces, ten nephews, and several assorted pets! Get in touch with her by emailing contact@quietwaterspress.com. Love getting the behind-the-scenes scoop? You'll find it and more at quietwaterspress.com.

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      Book preview

      Breath of Fresh Air - Angie Thompson

      Chapter 1

      Does it feel...unusually quiet to any of you?

      Brady Owen rolled onto his side, allowed his head a few seconds to adjust to the slight change in position, then carefully propped it up to survey the other occupants of the room.

      Rachelle Rivera sat in her usual recliner next to his couch, one foot tucked up under her with her laptop balanced on her knee as she rocked gently side to side with the other. Harper Peterson lay on one of the couches along the back wall, still apparently sleeping with her blue hair falling over her closed eyes. Dash—he’d still somehow never gotten the guy’s real name—sat in his wheelchair near the couch opposite Brady, possibly listening to something on his tablet, although he appeared to be idly staring at the wall. Surprisingly, his rasping voice was also the first to answer.

      Not more than normal. Probably just missing monster-breath. The shadow of a smirk twisted the corner of his mouth for a second. Hey, Midge, her school still looking for parent helpers?

      Very funny. Brady resisted the urge to roll his eyes even as a soft pang shot through his heart. Of course he wasn’t Grace’s parent, or even a sibling and guardian like Rachelle, but he’d have given a lot to be able to volunteer consistently anywhere, let alone be able to show the little girl just how much she’d come to mean to him in the six months or so since he’d joined them. But most days his head couldn’t stand the effort of sorting through a donation bin, let alone dealing with the chaos of a classroom full of six-year-olds, so no matter how the idea called to him, there was no use thinking about it. Besides, she’s been back for a month. Doesn’t explain why today feels quiet. And don’t tell me it’s Harper being asleep. I’m used to her naps, and that’s not what I’m talking about.

      Doubt you even know what you’re talking about, Dash muttered, and Brady sighed as he turned his gaze back to Rachelle.

      He’d expected her to brush off the observation—though of course more gently and sympathetically than Dash—but he wasn’t prepared for the hint of a frown that creased her forehead as she closed her laptop and traced her finger absently over the inlaid logo.

      I thought it was just me. Or maybe I’m kidding myself that randomly moving files around keeps up the illusion that I’m working, even if you’re just listening to me type. But it does feel—maybe not even quiet, exactly. Just... She broke off, searching for a word, but it was Brady who found the answer after a few seconds.

      Waiting.

      Mm-hm. That’s closer. Rachelle nodded, and Dash huffed.

      What is this, some sort of group psychosis or something? What do you even think you’re waiting for, and if you don’t know, how can you be waiting for it?

      No idea. Brady offered a slight shrug, and Dash lifted his eyes in the closest approximation of a roll he could manage.

      Who are we waiting for? The question was mumbled in Harper’s barely awake voice, and Brady cut his eyes over a little too quickly. His vision cleared in time to see her puff a portion of the curtain of hair off her face and prop herself up a little farther on her pillow, her expression radiating curiosity and interest despite her still sleepy appearance.

      Nobody knows, as far as I can tell. Maybe you can get it out of them. Dash cocked an eyebrow in her direction, and Rachelle sighed as Harper slid onto her elbow.

      There’s nothing to get, Harper. Brady just said it’s quiet today, and I agreed. Haven’t you ever had a feeling you just couldn’t put your finger on? That’s all this is, really. Things just feel—still. Kind of like―

      Like the calm before the storm, Brady offered, and Harper’s eyes sparkled suddenly.

      Oooh, are you finishing each other’s sentences now? That is exceptionally cute. She didn’t even try to hide her giggle, and Brady’s cheeks warmed so perceptibly that he didn’t dare look back at Rachelle.

      Really? That’s all you’ve got? Dash’s tone was mildly disgusted, and Brady blessed him for it even as he hoped hard that Harper would be willing to return to the earlier topic.

      "I mean, I don’t know. Maybe it is quiet. I’ve been sleeping. Sure you don’t have some remnant of your super-hearing telling you there’s some normal noise that’s missing?"

      It’s been what—a week? Besides, I’m pretty sure that would make things louder, not quieter. And what kind of noise do you think I’d be missing?

      Harper hummed something in the general rhythm of an I don’t know, but she sat up fully on the couch and slipped her feet into her flipflops with a yawn.

      Twenty questions? I assume you went over the obvious, like munchkin voices and my sparkling personality. She batted her eyelashes rapidly, then snickered at Brady’s unamused look. Fine. Did the cleaning crew go on strike? That would affect noise levels pretty drastically.

      You sure? Dash’s eyebrow lifted as high as he could raise it. Feels like the furious phone calls would probably more than make up for it—especially being on a level with Mattox.

      Hmm. Harper pushed herself up to standing and shuffled across the common to the cupboard that held her energy bars. Maybe we lost a particularly loud patient upstairs?

      Rachelle’s partially open mouth snapped shut, and every hint of expression fled from Dash’s face.

      Harper! Brady couldn’t help a gasp, and Harper surveyed them all with a puzzled frown for a second before she groaned and knocked her head against the door.

      Lost as in left! As in recovered or transferred or something! Not—anything else!

      Rachelle let out a shaky laugh, and the stiffness in Dash’s shoulders relaxed just a little. Brady blew out a relieved breath, but Harper slumped further into her uncomfortable position against the cupboard.

      Ugh, don’t ever listen to me while I’m sleepy. Her words were fading into a mumble that Brady suspected was more from embarrassment than drowsiness. You know I didn’t mean―

      We know, Harper. Rachelle’s tone gentled to even more than its usual softness. Living around all this sends our brains down weird paths sometimes. Not your fault, and nobody’s mad at you. Can’t give you an answer on the transfer, though. Dr. Mattox has been completely out of pocket most of the day.

      Out of pocket how? Brady had barely registered her earlier comment about busywork, but it returned to him now as he pondered what it meant for the always elusive doctor to be noticeably less available.

      "No idea. Just—not answering messages. At all. Not talking quick responses either—that’s normal if she’s with a patient or buried in the lab. Not all day, though. And not questions from yesterday. Especially when all my usual projects are

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