Page 4 of Attraction & Repulsion

“Think you can walk?” he asked, offering his hand to help her down onto the sidestep.

“Yes. I’m not as dizzy anymore.”

“Just keep the towel on it.”

Once inside, he guided her to one of the empty chairs and went to speak to the receptionist. Hushed murmurs drifted about the waiting room from the other patrons. An older couple sat reading magazines in the corner. A mother and father distracted their coughing child with a colorful, wooden toy. A group of teenage boys snickered, as their mother slumped in her chair.

“Are you able to fill this out?” Jax was back, holding a clipboard.

Sitting up, Carson took the paperwork from him. As soon as he lowered himself into the seat on her left, his pocket buzzed. He snatched his phone to read the incoming texts.

“It’s Raegan. Want her to come by?”

Carson finished scribbling her insurance information, which gave her amoment to think. If Raegan showed up, Carson would have to talk . . . a lot. More talking than she could handle at the moment. She was too exhausted to entertain anyone or replay the whole door-to-head incident. But she had no other way home; they had driven together to the tournament.

“Or I can just drive you home,” Jax offered. “If that doesn’t weird you out.”

She squinted at him. “You’re not some sort of perv, are you?”

He laughed. “I’m a lot of things, but that I am not.”

“Then sure, I just want to go home—wait.” Leaning forward, she patted her back pocket for her forgotten phone and was thankful to find it still there. Her sigh of relief was short-lived when she saw the stack of alerts—five missed calls and fifteen messages—waiting on the screen.

“I can text Raegan and let her know,” she told Jax. “I live in Chino Valley, though.”

Propping one arm on her chair, Jax lay back, calm for being in a place full of pain and sickness. Carson surmised it was because he was used to it. Besides, isn’t that what firefighters are? Comfortable in chaos.

“No problem,” Jax said. “It’s the least I can do after knocking you out.”

They waited in silence. Jax was fixated on a hockey game on the flatscreen mounted in the corner while Carson slouched in her seat, dreaming about her plush bed.

“Carson West?”

Both Jax and Carson turned to see the triage nurse holding a door open, her eyes scanning the waiting room. Jax stood and reached a hand toward Carson. When she got up, the room didn’t spin like a carnival ride, which was an improvement.

“Need me to go back with you?” he asked.

Too exhausted to care, Carson nodded, and they followed thenurse—Cindy, according to her name tag—through the door, down a hall, and into a tiny patient room. Bland blues and creams covered the walls, and a wooden “Keep Moving Forward” sign too tiny for its canvas hung on one wall. Beneath it was an arrow pointing to nowhere. Carson believed it was a sad attempt to liven up the drab space.

“Have a seat on the bed so I can get some vitals,” the nurse instructed. Short and sweet, she reminded Carson of Raegan’s mother.

The tissue paper crunched beneath Carson as she took her place. Jax sat casually in one of the chairs in the back corner. An ankle rested on one knee while his arms, hands, and fingers loosely lay on the arms of the chair.

Cindy unhooked the blood pressure cuff from the rolling tray. “I’ll need your right arm, honey.”

Carson’s stomach lodged in her throat. She sure as hell wasn’t going to roll her sleeve up right now. Not for the nurse, not for the doctor, andnotin front of Jax.

“Can I keep my sleeve down? I’m . . . cold,” she lied.

Cindy gave her a sympathetic smile. Carson’s own mother would have rolled her eyes.

“Sure, dear,” Cindy said. “It makes no difference.”

The dread released from the pit of Carson’s stomach. With her left hand still holding the rag to her head, she offered her right arm. Cindy wrapped the cuff around it and pressed a button to automate the machine. The tight pressure on her bicep was oddly comforting.

“So, you hit your head?” Cindy asked, holding a thermometer to the side of her forehead the towel wasn’t covering.

“I wasn’t watching where I was going and ran into a door,” Carson said.

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