Page 108 of The Quit List

So I oblige, wrapping arms behind his neck and trying to keep my bandaged ankle somewhat elevated even as Jax strides down the trail, practically whistling.

I’ve never felt more cared for, or safe, in my life.

And it occurs to me, as he walks out of the wilderness with me cradled in his arms, that no time I spend with this man is wasted time. I’ll take every minute I can get with him. Even if those minutes bracket periods of time that he gets to be out here, living his dream.

Because today, “seeing where it goes” has been officially added to the Dictionary of Holly.

38

JAX

This freaking doctor is giving Holly the eyes.

And yes, I know that he’s supposed to be checking over her, but surely, smiling at her like that isn’t part of the job description. I have to clench my fists by my sides as it takes everything in me not to let my inner caveman out of his cage. You know, the one who’d grab Dr. Love here by the lab coat and hurl him across the room for putting his hands on her… aka for doing his job.

I’m feeling a little unhinged right now.

I’m not sure it’s a feeling I like.

I can’t believe Holly got hurt. I was meant to be looking after her, leading her, guiding her. Instead, I was distracted. Remembering how I held her in my arms as I slept, and joking around with her about freaking breakfast, and thinking about how much I’d like to make her breakfast in the morning. I wasn’t looking at where she was stepping.

“A moderate sprain,” Dr. Love proclaims, giving Holly a little pat on the leg that is, if I’m being entirely honest, nothing more than a professional, friendly gesture. However, right now, his gestures are making my unreasonable self feel all kinds of things.

Because I’m the one who said I’d never do anything to hurt her, and he’s here making her all better.

“So, where were the two of you hiking?” the doctor asks as he writes something on a prescription pad. He refers to “the two of us,” but he’s very clearly looking at Holly.

She shrugs as she gingerly shifts on the table. “The Appalachians entry trail. We just came out of a three day backpacking trip in the area.”

“Three days, huh?” His eyes barely glance at me. “Only the two of you?”

“Well, us and a couple Vikings.” Holly gives me a private smile that makes my heart thump. She goes on to explain, “Jax is starting a guiding outfit to take people out there.”

“Oh, so this guy’s your guide.” Dr. Love nods. “That explains it.”

Excuse me? I raise a brow at the doctor and am about to ask him what he means by that, exactly, when he steps closer to Holly, resting his hip against the table next to her. He goes on to tell her about the myriad of “secret” hiking trails he knows in the area before moving on to recommendations for all things crutches and ice and elevation.

As he speaks with Holly, his green eyes locked on her face, I can’t help but notice that the guy’s got that clean-cut, prep school sort of look that Holly used to like, complete with a perfectly groomed, blond mustache that (even I have to admit) is pretty impressive. He appears to be in his late thirties, and judging by the photo of him holding a toddler on the screensaver of his computer, Dr. Love here likes kids.

Holly is alert, smiling, and nodding, her face turned towards him. Even though her hair is in a messy braid and her face is bare of makeup, she looks more beautiful than ever—her inner confidence shining through so that she’s almost glowing.

Dr. Love clearly sees it too, and he’s like a moth to a heat lamp.

This guy is definitely more along the lines of what she was looking for. Finding someone like him was always part of her plan.

And my plan was always to be alone.

But plans can change, can’t they? Because every time I consider the Vikings’ comments about Holly being my wife, I’m aware that, for the first time, the thought of love—of forever—could be exactly what I want.

I don’t know what to do with my feelings about this. How to sort through them.

Especially when Dr. Love is staring at my girl like he wants nothing more than to whisk her away for a passionate weekend of trail exploring and mustache grooming.

At that moment, Holly turns her head away from the doctor to look at me, and her expression changes from carefully paying attention to soft and sweet. Happy. Her cheeks color and her eyes crinkle at the corners and I suddenly know that she feels what I’m feeling, too.

And while I may have no idea how to be everything she wants and needs, I’m going to try my damndest.

After we’re done at the doctor’s office—and have picked up a better bandage and some painkillers from the pharmacy next door—I carefully help Holly back into the van. Dr. Love sent us off with a wink (in Holly’s direction) and a gentle reminder that she makes sure she has someone with her (“a roommate or best friend, perhaps?”) to help her get around and monitor her over the coming week or two while her ankle heals.