So it bothered him after all. Mary Elise stifled the urge to do an impromptu victory dance and rubbed soothing circles along Trey's back while Daniel reached into the crate.
His flight suit stretched across narrow h*ps that veed up his back into broad shoulders. Muscles rippled under taut green fabric with restrained strength. He pivoted around with athletic fluidity, pitching the bag toward her.
"Thank you," she said, avoiding eyes that told her too well she wouldn't be able to dodge talking soon.
Mary Elise yanked the zipper open and rifled inside the pouch until her fingers closed around the inhaler. She snapped off the cap and thrust her hand toward Trey.
He brought the medicine to his mouth and pumped once, twice, again.
She prayed they wouldn't be stranded in the air with Trey in a full-blown attack. "Come on, hon, take one more hit off the inhaler, okay?"
His shoulders heaved with a shuddering inhale.
Mary Elise waited for signs of relief. Years spent tending her chronically ill mother had left her with more knowledge about lung disease than some doctors. Her mother's illness had also left her unsupervised, free to tromp alongside the neighbor boy. Never once had Danny complained about a pesky tagalong two years his junior. He'd shrugged off any teasing—when had Danny cared what others thought anyway—and labeled her his mascot.
Daniel knelt beside her. The scent of bay rum mingled with the pervasive air of hydraulic fluid. "What else can you do for him?"
Mary Elise focused on the hydraulic fluid. Fat lot of good it did her with the warmth of Danny's arm inches away from her breast. "His nebulizer's in the other bag. We can set that up if the Albuterol inhaler doesn't do the trick."
Trey's heaving shoulders slowed.
She swept a hand over his pale brow. "Better, hon?"
The boy nodded.
Daniel held out his hand for the inhaler. "Hey, buddy, let me take that for you."
"You're not … my buddy. Don't even … know you."
Mary Elise stiffened.
Daniel stilled, then slowly retracted his hand. "That's right." His arms fell to rest on his knee. "We don't know each other. And we'll duke that one out later on terra firma back in the States. Right now you just take care of yourself."
Trey clamped his mouth shut and fixed his gaze somewhere over his brother's head.
Shoving to his feet by Tag, Daniel ruffled Austin's sweaty curls. "Hey there, sport."
Austin studied him with wary eyes, but at least not openly hostile. Daniel tugged off his flight gloves and reached into his thigh pocket. His hand whipped back out with a chocolate bar. "Snickers?"
Austin's brown eyes sparkled.
Mary Elise rose, Daniel topping her by only a few inches. A perfect fit. Double damn. "He's allergic to nuts."
"How about licorice?"
"He might choke."
Daniel's jaw flexed. "Three Musketeers bar?"
Mary Elise refrained from asking for an apple, a senseless request after the kid had already been offered candy. "That would be fine."
Daniel fished the treat out of his seemingly bottomless pocket for Austin, then turned back to his other brother.
Trey hunched back in the seat, arms tight across his chest. "I'm not hungry."
Uh-oh. The kid loved licorice. Mary Elise waited for Daniel's reaction. Prayed somewhere inside this harder new Daniel there still lived the Danny who'd sat with her during her bout with chicken pox, teaching her to play poker, tutoring her in math, making her laugh so she wouldn't scratch.
Shrugging, Daniel zipped his thigh pocket closed. "Fair enough. I have to head back up to the crew compartment. If you decide you're hungry later on, Tag here can give you a hand."