Page 111 of The Quit List
On the evening of my homecoming, I took a scalding shower while sitting on a stool, changed into my comfiest sweats, and then Jax spent the evening with Aubrey and me, binge-watching the first season of Suits.
Jax had never seen it before, and so to make sure that it was an entirely authentic viewing experience for him, Aubs and I made sure to repeat all of Harvey Specter’s cheesiest one-liners in mock-deep voices while we consumed a steady supply of Godiva truffles and Sugarfina champagne bears. Aubrey was in charge of refreshments, and her idea of “crisis snacks” is significantly more boujee than mine.
Not that I had any complaints.
“Hello, Ms. Broken Ankle,” Aubrey says now as she swans into our living room in another of her tank-top-and-polka-dot-panties combos and plops down on the floor next to the couch. She tears open a pack of seaweed crisps. “How you holding up?”
I shift on my elbows, trying to get comfortable. My body feels restless after all this time spent on the couch. Especially given that I was hiking and walking for three whole days prior to this injury. “I’m surviving. And for the last time, Aubs, it’s not broken, just sprained.”
“Potato, tomato,” Aubrey says with a breezy wave of her hand as she crunches into a crisp, her eyes on the TV. I paused my show a little while ago for a bathroom break, and so Aubrey is watching the TV Sleep Mode screensaver.
“To answer your question, my ankle is feeling quite a bit better,” I tell her. “Would hate to know what a ‘severe’ sprain feels like, though.” I wince. “But I’ve been diligent, been sticking with the regime of rest, ice, compression, and elevation that the doctor prescribed.”
“Not to mention those handy painkillers.”
I laugh. “True.”
“Then again,” she continues thoughtfully, “maybe you missed a beat there.”
I narrow my eyes at her. “Missed a beat, how?”
“With the doctor who attended to you. Sounds like he was pretty nice looking.” She catches my stare and shrugs innocently. “Well, not for me or you obviously. You’ve got your Mountain Man dream babe to literally wait on you hand and foot. But I have loads of single friends who would probably throw themselves down mountains just to go out with a handsome doctor. Could’ve been a prime opportunity for a matchmaking scheme.”
I have to laugh at that, rolling my eyes. Aubs is right—the doctor was very handsome. But honestly, I didn’t even care. My days of wanting my very own ER doctor moment a la Aubrey and Alec are over, because I seem to only have eyes for one man.
Said Mountain Man who carried me through my doorway five days ago, then deposited me on this very couch—kinda like a groom carrying his bride over the threshold. Only said bride hadn’t showered in three days, was wearing a very sexy (not) walking boot, and had twigs in her hair.
It’s only a sprain, but Jax has been treating me like I broke all the bones in my body or something.
For three full days, he only left my bungalow to sleep, shower, and grab fresh clothes at his house. And to show said house to potential renters. As my dedicated sexy nurse (his words, not mine), he tuned in to my every need, getting me ice packs from the freezer, bringing me blankets when he insisted I looked cold, and ordering all my favorite takeout foods.
At the end of each evening, he also carried me to bed like I might shatter into a million pieces if I so much as took a step—my protests that I was totally fine to hop-shuffle there myself fell on deaf ears.
Turns out, Jaxon Grainger is extremely stubborn when it comes to taking care of people. Which is yet another totally unexpected, totally incredible green flag quality to add to his impressive repertoire.
“Considering switching careers already, Aubs?” I ask her as I steal a seaweed crisp from her baggie. “Sick of this whole law business?”
“No… Well, yeah, I’m sick of it.” She rolls her eyes dramatically. “But I could do some matchmaking on the side. A type of glam, young Judge Judy type who’s out to reunite the young and soon-to-be loved up.”
“Now there’s a show I’d watch,” I reply.
“Speaking of, what are we thinking for tonight? More Suits, or are we all Suited out for now?”
Before I can say or do anything—like yank the TV remote out of her reach—she’s clicking a button, the TV screensaver disappears, and the show I’d been watching is on full display.
She gives me an incredulous look. “Man vs. Wild? Really, Holly?”
“I’m bored,” I say in an attempt to justify my choice of televised entertainment.
“You’d watch He’s Just Not That Into You for the millionth time if you were bored,” Aubrey says with a dismissive wave of her hand. “You’re watching that and fantasizing about your mountain man. Mentally pasting his face on top of Bear Grylls’s while he does all kinds of daring mountain-y things, and then drooling like a slobbery baby over it.” She waggles her eyebrows at me. “Not that I blame you.”
“That description is both detailed and disturbing in equal measures. And for the record, I am not doing that.”
Also for the record… I totally am.
I haven’t heard from Jax since he tucked me in on the couch and kissed me goodbye yesterday. Which makes sense—the cabin doesn’t have phone service or internet (yet)—but even so, I find myself checking my phone every two minutes, in case he calls. It’s probably overkill on my part—he’s only been out of the city for one night—but I know this was the right call.
As helpful and attentive and amazing as Jax has been, I’ve also been acutely aware that he’s spending all this time in Atlanta with me, instead of at his cabin prepping for his first booking to arrive. Tomorrow, according to that inquiry he showed me at the diner.