Chapter 11
Adam
Though the day hadn’t turned out anything like I’d anticipated, I wasn’t mad about the turn of events.
Well, actually, that was a messed-up thought because for Jo, it’d likely been long and painful. We’d made it to the car, and I’d convinced her to go to an urgent care when I saw how swollen her ankle had gotten in such little time. She’d looked at me with those big eyes and asked, “What good is having a former special operations medic if I still have to go to urgent care?”
She’d gotten a stern look from me, even though internally I was laughing. I explained I didn’t have a personal X-ray machine and she’d benefit from knowing her ankle wasn’t broken. She’d acquiesced, and happily, there was no break, so I’d brought her home.
And as I waited for her to get out of the shower—yeah, not thinking about that too closely—I distracted myself with the details of her living room.
Of course I’d noticed the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lining the living room wall, and we’d sat at her tiny table and on her love seat during our meeting. But I hadn’t fully appreciated how beautiful and colorful her shelves were or how she had little bookish items that seemed to coordinate with the books they sat by. A small bust of Fitzwilliam Darcy perched by not one or two but seven different versions of Pride and Prejudice. She had collections of poetry and small prints and verses and quotes sprinkled throughout. It was a peek into her book-loving brain.
But it also reminded me how much she wanted a love story of her own—not just a love story, I’d recently been corrected by Dove, but a romance. One with a happily ever after. One I can’t reliably offer her.
“Enjoying my booknerd-dom?”
Her voice came from the doorway to her bedroom and sent my pulse racing, feeling caught admiring her things like a snoop even though they were here on display.
“I am greatly enjoying it, yes,” I answered honestly. “Most of my books are black.”
She grinned and started to hobble over to the couch. I bolted to her, slid an arm around her back, and took as much of her weight as I could since she hadn’t wrapped her ankle again after her shower yet.
“Thank you,” she said as I helped her ease onto the couch.
“Feeling any better?” I asked, taking in the brightness of her scrubbed-clean cheeks and the way her hair looked a few shades darker when wet.
“Yes, thank you. And thank you for staying with me all day. I really didn’t plan for this to be such a process.” She gave me a miserable look.
“I didn’t mind, and I’m the one who insisted on the urgent care. If anything, blame me and my terrible lack of X-ray equipment.” I sat next to her, now painfully aware of the coating of dirt and sweat on me as I perched next to her and basked in her lightly citrus and floral clean scent. “It does make me want to double down on survival training at work, though.”
Her head ticked to the side. “What’s that?”
Running a hand through my hair, I looked anywhere but at her. “I want to put together some survival and first-aid training, kind of like the self-defense classes we hold. It’s this kind of situation today that could get someone really injured if they don’t know what to do.” I turned to find her watching me intently. “What would you have done if you’d been alone?”
She tsked. “Well, first, I know better than to hike alone. But second, I would’ve called for help, I guess. I couldn’t have gotten down the mountain without you.”
The tenderness and gratitude in her voice gnawed at me, begging me to give in and touch her again, hold her, try to rewind time and undo the hurt she’d endured today. “Good. Exactly. The concern comes when, uh-oh, there’s no service, there’s a storm coming, or whatever. So a class would run through all those scenarios plus do basic first aid, and we could have different levels of training for each. Maybe even culminate in a short trip for graduates.”
“That’s amazing. You should definitely do it. I feel like people here would love this kind of thing.” She seemed genuine about it.
“I think so, too. I talked with Danny Morrison—as you know, he’s head of ski patrol up at the resort and also an avid hiker. He cuts trail in summer and such. Anyway, I’ve been talking with him and he’s interested in partnering on it if Saint gets it going.”
She beamed. “I know Danny. I love his wife, and his kids are the cutest. I love the idea of partnering with Silver Ridge Resort!” She grabbed my wrist and squeezed for emphasis, like her excitement had nowhere else to go.
The touch streaked through me and left a burning heat in its wake.
“Yeah, it’d be great.”
“Why do you sound like it’s an if?”
I sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s something Danny and his guys should be doing, you know? I don’t know if it’s a fit for Saint.”
Her gaze hooked into mine and a beat passed. “You won’t know until you propose it, right? I challenge you to be brave.”
I chuckled, wishing it felt that easy. “Well, you were certainly brave today, so that’s a fair request.”
She smiled and settled back. “I’m sorry for being so grumpy, and I’m relieved to know it’s not broken.”
“No need to apologize. I’m glad, too, but remember, you do need to keep off it, ice and elevate it. Can I have a look?”
She lifted the leg closer to me, and I guided it onto my lap. Tugging at her sweats, she revealed a thoroughly swollen and already bruising ankle. Gingerly, I pressed into the skin surrounding and finally, relieved she hadn’t reacted to any of it, wrapped it with the ace bandage. I’d told her to remove the one urgent care had put on so she could shower more easily since I could redo it for her before I left.
“This is only going to help stabilize you, and the biggest thing to help with pain is going to be your anti-inflammatory and icing on and off. Did you hear back from your coworker yet? Can you get your shift covered?”
Her gaze was fastened to where my hand now rested on her bare shin and gently cupped her heel. I’d never been uncomfortable touching people, but maybe this seemed proprietary to her? I couldn’t tell and I didn’t want her to face even more discomfort by having to ask me to stop touching her leg now that I’d wrapped her ankle, so I stood and settled her foot on the cushion next to her, moving to get the ice pack I’d made while she began speaking.
“I’ve got coverage until noon, but after that, I’ll need to be there until four. Monday’s our early day, but it’s also the day I usually do my errands—post office, grocery, all that.” Her brow furrowed as though she was trying to figure out how she’d stay off her foot and still accomplish everything.
“Why don’t I grab your groceries and mail? You can put in an order online and authorize me to pick up, and I can definitely handle the mail if you trust me with your PO box key.”
Her head fell back to rest on the couch and she eyed me. “You’re doing too much. This is…” She shook her head. “It’s too much, Adam.”
She didn’t say my name very often, and hearing it now in the quiet of her space after a day spent so close to her, caring for her, made something inside me hollow out and fill up at the same time. Looking at her with those wide, lovely eyes and concern for me while she was the one laid up with an injured limb… it cut through a layer of the protective shell I’d wrapped myself in.
“It’s not, Josephine.”
Her lips quirked. “It is.”
I slowly shook my head no, back and forth. “It’s not. And while I’m sure your friends could help, something tells me you won’t bother them since it’s Jess’s first day back at Saint and Winnie’s only just now back from her honeymoon, and I’m sure you’ll find excuses for everyone else, too. I can check your ankle again tomorrow afternoon to see how it’s doing, and I usually hit up the market and post office on Mondays, too, so really you’re just giving the errands I was going to run more value.”
“Oh, okay. Makes perfect sense.”
Sarcasm dripped from her words, but I wouldn’t waver. Instead, I took the small tray I made from the counter and delivered it to her.
She accepted it, blinking down at the plate of crackers, cheese, and the last bunch of grapes she had in the fridge, plus a cup of tea.
“You’ll survive me helping you tomorrow, I promise. That’s what friends do for each other.” I grabbed my keys and looked around, making sure I hadn’t left anything undone. “Ice for twenty minutes on and off, keep it elevated. Eat your snack, drink your tea, chill out, and try not to do much other than sit there. Call me if you need anything.”
“Yes, sir.”
I gave her a half-hearted glare. “Seriously, promise me you’ll let me know if I can help you.”
Now it was her turn to glare at me. “You’re helping me tomorrow. I can handle this tonight. It’s not broken, remember?”
This woman was going to hop up and start bustling around the second I left if her tone told me anything. I stalked back to her and braced myself on the couch on either side of her, then leaned down so I was about eight inches from her face.
“Please take care of my friend, Jo.”
She bit her lip and the prettiest little smile snuck through. “You are such a bossy nurse.”
I scowled in earnest. “That’s what Dorian says, too.”
She grinned. “Fine. I’ll follow your directions and see you tomorrow.”
Unblinking, I prompted her to give me the last bit. “And?”
I could’ve sworn she wanted to smile again, but she kept it hidden and huffed lightly. “And I promise I’ll call you if I need anything.”
It must’ve been something about the day or the fact that I hadn’t eaten since that pastry hours ago, or maybe it was the mesmerizing proximity and the soft scents of her shampoo and soap. Whatever the case, without thinking and without any regard for my sanity or the reality of my life, I said, “Good girl,” then pressed a kiss to her forehead.
And because I’d shocked myself likely more than I had her, I made an exit faster than I probably ever had, launching myself away from her without a glance at her face for fear I’d just done something irrevocably stupid, and fled with only a “See you tomorrow!” as the door shut behind me.
As soon as I made it down her stairs and outside, I slumped against the brick wall of her building and shut my eyes against the train wreck of the last few minutes.
I’d kissed her.
Her forehead, yes, but… still.
Friendly gesture, possibly, but also not… just not. Not something I’d done before. Hopefully a move she’d chalk up to my caretaking tendencies and not…
Well, not…
Anything else.