Page 5 of Attraction & Repulsion

Jax broke his silence. “That is not how it happened.”

The nurse’s large, round eyes darted between her and Jax. “Oh?”

“I swung the door open, and she was on the other side,” he said.

“Yeah, but if I was watching where I was going this wouldn’t have happened. It’s my fault we’re here,” Carson confessed.

Cindy’s face softened. “It sounds like it was nobody’s fault. Freak accidents are very common.” She reached over to the counter and grabbed a pair of gloves. “Now, let’s see what all the fuss is about.” When Carson peeled back the rag, Cindy’s lips pursed. “I think it’s safe to say you’ll be needing stitches.”

Taking the cloth from Carson’s hand, Cindy tossed it in the waste disposal, but not before Carson caught sight of the large maroon spot staining the pristine color. How many bloodied rags had Carson thrown away herself? Too many to count. While the nurse taped a sterile gauze over the open wound, Carson shook her arms out, attempting to release the tingles from holding them up for so long.

Cindy went on to ask the typical intake questions. Carson had always loved the clacking sound that keyboards made. Cindy’s acrylic nails made the experience even more satisfying as she took down Carson’s answers. No concussion, no double vision, minimal nausea at the beginning that was gone now, no confusion.

As Cindy stepped out to fetch the doctor, Carson reached up to rub the knots that had formed in her shoulders, eyeing the jars of clinical disposables that sat on the counter next to the sink. How ironic that she was back in a medical facility on the anniversary of the car accident.Just my luck.

“Feeling any better?” Jax asked, sneaking a peek into one of the drawers.

Dropping her hands into her lap, Carson rubbed them down her thighs to her knees before answering his question. “Just ready to get home.”

“I don’t blame you.” Jax closed the drawer then tiltedhis head. “You know, you look kind of familiar. I swear I’ve met you before.”

Carson shrugged, having thought the same thing. “Maybe. It’s a small town.”

“Hmm.” Jax continued to study her face, causing Carson to nervously look down at her shoes.

Then the door squeaked open, and Carson was transported back five years.

A young man wearing a white coat—far too young to have gone through medical school and residency—entered the room. Heavy doses of sedatives and narcotics coursed through Carson’s veins, making her feel like stone. The doctor’s face had been emotionless when he stood at the end of her bed reciting the words: dead, dead, dead. That was the only part she had understood. She clung to that word. They were dead. Dead because of her . . .

“Carson?”

It was Jax who brought her back to the present. Carson wasn’t in the hospital, hadn’t just woken from a coma. The doctor hadn’t just told her that her family was dead.

Blinking, she squeezed the cushion beneath her, trying to ground herself. She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry. Yes?”

The urgent care physician in front of Carson looked nothing like the doctor from her memory. In fact, he appeared very experienced with his white hair and well-worn lab coat.

“The nurse tells me you hit your head but doesn’t think you have a concussion.” The physician pulled a flashlight from his front pocket as he stepped up to Carson, just as Cindy returned with a cart full of supplies. “Just look at the button on my shirt.” Carson obliged as he shone the light in her eyes.

“Looks good. Not feeling sluggish or sick?”

She shook her head.

“Very good. Go ahead and lay back. We’ll get you stitched up and out of here in no time.”

As Carson reclined, Cindy pulled out a slate so her feet wouldn’t hang helplessly off the bed.

“Oh, you are cold. You’re shaking,” Cindy said.

Yes, cold. That’s why Carson’s bones and joints were twitching, and her jaw hurt. Why her heart was pumping so hard she was sure she would wake up with bruised ribs. Cold. That’s all it was.

A weight covered her legs, and she glanced down to see Cindy had placed a knitted blanket over her. She wanted to cry at the gesture.

The doctor and the nurse began the procedure, their movements routine as if they had done it hundreds of times. It happened so quickly: gauze was removed, plastic ripped open, sterile drapes placed on and near her. A spotlight clicked on, blinding her.

She dropped her gaze and found Jax’s face. Worry lines creased his forehead, and his mouth was slightly open. Perhaps it was because Carson’s breaths were short and quick, or because her eyes appeared wild and panicked. Jax was leaning toward her as if he wanted to scoop her up and rescue her from this place. If he did, she wouldn’t resist.

Carson fought to keep from squirming under the physician’s touch. Her fingers dug into the plastic on the edge of the medical bed hard enough to leave marks. She was good at leaving marks.

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