Chapter 3 Routine Maintenance #2
There wasn't another reason to remain standing beside the ambulance.
Still, he lingered.
"You planning on inspecting that screen until lunch?"
The teasing voice belonged to Marcus Hill, who had wandered into the maintenance bay carrying a clipboard.
Jax looked up.
"Making sure I didn't miss anything."
Marcus smiled knowingly.
"You never do."
"I try not to."
Marcus leaned casually against the ambulance.
"My wife says perfectionists are exhausting."
"I wouldn't know."
"No wife?"
Jax gave a small shake of his head.
"No."
Marcus studied him for a moment before chuckling.
"Probably saves you arguments."
"Probably."
The older paramedic laughed softly.
"You're hard to read, Cooper."
"I hear that."
"You ever take a day off?"
"When something breaks, people call."
"I fix it."
Marcus nodded.
"You're more like us than you realize."
The comment stayed with Jax after Marcus walked away.
Maybe that was why working with emergency crews had always felt comfortable.
They understood responsibility.
They understood long nights and interrupted meals.
They understood carrying burdens that rarely received recognition.
Most importantly, they understood that someone else's bad day could become your entire day in a single phone call.
He glanced across the bay once more.
Julian had finished restocking the trauma cabinet and was now checking oxygen levels on another ambulance.
Methodical.
Focused.
Completely absorbed in the task.
Jax recognized the habit.
People who threw themselves into work usually had something they were trying not to think about.
He knew because he had spent the last five years doing exactly the same thing.
A loud burst of laughter erupted from the break room nearby.
Emma stepped into the bay carrying a box of disposable gloves.
She caught Jax looking toward Julian and smiled mischievously.
"You know..."
Jax immediately became suspicious.
"What?"
"I've never seen Julian actually enjoy talking to one of our contractors."
"We weren't talking that much."
Emma shrugged.
"Enough."
Jax busied himself organizing sockets inside his toolbox.
"I was answering questions."
"Mmm."
"What?"
"Nothing."
She grinned wider.
"Just an observation."
"I make repairs."
"I don't create gossip."
Emma laughed.
"Relax."
"I'm teasing."
Before Jax could respond, she disappeared back inside the station, leaving him wondering whether his expression had been more obvious than he realized.
He hoped not.
Hope had become an expensive habit.
After his father died, Jax had buried himself beneath twelve-hour workdays because grief left little room for anything else. Friends eventually stopped asking him to join weekend barbecues or fishing trips. Relationships—few as they had been—ended quietly when work always came first.
Then there was the other truth.
The one he acknowledged only when no one else could hear.
Ashcroft was changing, but not as quickly as larger cities.
Some people still believed certain lives should remain hidden.
A family business depended on reputation.
Customers trusted him with vehicles worth more than he earned in years.
One careless decision could become the only thing anyone remembered.
His father's photograph hung inside the garage office.
Every morning Jax promised himself he would protect everything Robert Cooper had built.
Sometimes protecting it felt suspiciously similar to hiding.
He didn't like examining that thought too closely.
"Jax?"
Julian's voice pulled him back.
He turned.
The paramedic stood beside the open equipment compartment holding a portable cardiac monitor.
"I think one of the mounting brackets feels loose."
Jax walked over.
"Show me."
Julian demonstrated how the bracket shifted slightly whenever the monitor locked into place.
"It isn't much."
"It doesn't take much."
Jax crouched beside the compartment.
"If this comes loose during transport, you've got another problem."
He removed two screws before inspecting the mounting plate.
"The bracket isn't damaged."
"So what's wrong?"
"The vibration loosened the backing nuts."
Julian watched with quiet interest.
"You can tell that just by looking?"
Jax smiled faintly.
"Not looking."
"Listening."
Julian tilted his head.
"Listening?"
"Everything makes a sound."
"This one rattled differently."
The explanation earned a look of genuine fascination.
"I never would've noticed."
"You would've."
Jax tightened the hardware.
"You just would've noticed it another way."
Julian folded his arms.
"What do you mean?"
"You listen to people."
"I listen to machines."
Julian considered that.
"I guess that's true."
"I noticed."
"You noticed what?"
"The way you talked to your patient the other night."
Jax finished tightening the final nut before standing.
"You kept explaining everything."
"Even though he was barely awake."
Julian looked slightly surprised.
"I've always done that."
"Why?"
"My mother used to say people deserve dignity."
"Even when they're scared."
"Especially then."
The answer settled somewhere deeper than Jax expected.
"My dad had a similar rule."
Julian smiled.
"What was it?"
"'Never hand someone back a vehicle you'd be afraid to drive yourself.'"
They stood quietly for a moment.
Different fathers.
Different professions.
The same values.
Neither had inherited money.
Neither had inherited an easy life.
Only responsibility.
Julian picked up the cardiac monitor again and slid it into place.
This time it locked securely.
"Perfect."
Jax nodded.
"It'll hold."
As Julian closed the compartment door, his fingers brushed against Jax's hand.
The contact lasted no more than a heartbeat.
Warm skin.
Rough knuckles.
Calloused fingertips meeting steady, careful hands.
Neither of them pulled away immediately.
Neither seemed quite certain who should move first.
The station radio suddenly crackled overhead.
"Medic One, respond priority to Highway Twelve..."
The familiar dispatcher's voice filled the bay.
Julian blinked first.
Duty returned instantly.
"I've got to go."
"Of course."
He grabbed his gloves and jogged toward Rig 4, calling instructions to Owen as both men climbed into the ambulance.
Jax stepped back, giving them room.
The diesel engine started.
Emergency lights flashed to life.
As the ambulance rolled toward the open bay doors, Julian looked across the cab for the briefest second.
Their eyes met once more.
Then the ambulance accelerated onto the street, siren rising into the morning air before disappearing around the corner.
The maintenance bay felt strangely quiet afterward.
Jax stood exactly where he was for several seconds before realizing he was still looking toward the empty driveway.
He slowly flexed the hand Julian had touched.
It was ridiculous.
It had been accidental.
Barely noticeable.
Yet somehow the warmth lingered long after the ambulance—and the paramedic—had vanished from sight.
With a quiet shake of his head, Jax picked up his toolbox and headed toward his truck.
There were more vehicles waiting.
More repairs.
More work.
That was where his attention belonged.
He repeated the thought all the way back to Cooper Auto.
For reasons he couldn't explain, it wasn't nearly as convincing as it had been that morning.
· ? ·