Page 107 of The Quit List
My foot lands on a damp rock… slips right off of it… and rolls sideways, making a strange, stomach-curling ripping sound.
A terrible bolt of pain shoots through my ankle and I yelp as I fall to the ground.
“Ouch!” I clutch my ankle with both hands, pain radiating through my body.
Jax is by my side in a nanosecond, kneeling down beside me and gently moving my hands away so he can cradle my foot. Meanwhile, I’m trying not to cry. The pain is sharp, acute at my ankle, while the rest of me now feels numb.
“It’s okay, Holly, everything’s going to be okay.” Jax’s voice is low and comforting. Steady. “I know it hurts, but we need to determine how bad the injury is. Can you stay with me for that?”
Our eyes meet—mine full of tears, his calm and level. I’m worried that if I open my mouth, I’ll cry for real, so I nod my head once.
“Okay. First, I’m going to take your backpack off. Is that all right?”
I nod again and he unclips the strap at my chest before slipping his hands under the shoulders of the bag and easing it off me.
“I’m going to rest your foot on top of your bag. It’s important to keep it elevated. Okay?”
“Okay,” I whimper, then wince as he lifts my foot and props it up on my backpack.
“Now, this part might hurt. I’m going to unlace your boot because I need to check for swelling. I’ll be as gentle as possible, but tell me if the pain is unbearable. Can you do that for me?”
“Yeah.” My voice is more tearful than I’d like. “I’m so sorry, I should have looked where I was?—”
“Don’t you dare be sorry for anything. It was an accident, and I’m here to look after you. So first, I’m going to see what we’re working with and then I’ll go from there. One thing at a time, all right?”
“All right,” I agree. Through the haze of shock and pain, I’m once again so glad that Jax is here, taking control of this situation.
His fingers work the laces of my boot and he manages to slip it off along with my (rather gross by now, I’m sure) hiking sock. With every move he makes, he checks in with me, letting me know what he’s doing, then asking how I am and if I’m okay.
Finally, Jax asks if I can move my ankle. I try, but it’s agony.
He takes another look at the injury before saying, “Well, the good news is that I’m pretty sure it’s not broken.”
“W-what’s the bad news?” I ask shakily, my foot still cradled in his big hands.
“It looks like a pretty nasty sprain. We’re gonna get you out of here, and we’ll go to the nearest walk-in clinic to have a professional assess you.”
“How do you always know exactly what to do?” I ask thickly.
His lips tip up at the corners. “I don’t. But I’ll always do everything in my power to take care of you and keep you safe.”
He retrieves the first aid kit from his backpack and gives me some painkillers and a canteen of water while he gets to work bandaging my foot. It’s only as he does this that I notice his hands shaking slightly. He’s not as unruffled as his cool, competent exterior suggests. It makes me warm to this incredible, caring, sarcastic-but-tenderhearted man all the more.
Once my foot is skillfully wrapped, he packs our stuff and goes on to sling his backpack over one of his broad shoulders, and mine over his other.
“Ready?” he asks.
“Yup. I might need some help stand—Ooh!”
I’m suddenly airborne as Jax sweeps me into his arms in one effortless motion. One big hand beneath my thighs, the other behind my back. My head falls against his chest, and I hear his heartbeat as he starts walking again.
“I can do this!” I all but flap my arms at him. “Seriously. You can’t carry me and all our stuff!”
“I can and I will,” he says decisively before turning his slate eyes on me. “And no, you can’t do anything about it.”
I open my mouth to retort, but he has a point. I really, literally, cannot do anything about the fact that this Mountain Man has me bundled up in his arms, pressed up tight against his chest.
And perhaps more importantly, I really don’t want to do anything about it.