The doctor tells us someone will be in here shortly to discharge me and then we’re left alone.
“Oh my God, Jett,” Keanna whispers. She grabs my hand and squeezes it. “You scared the hell out of me.” Tears immediately flood her eyes and roll down her cheeks. I reach up and swipe them off, cupping her face in my hand.
“Baby, I’m okay.”
She shakes her head, blinking quickly to clear the tears. “You’re not okay. You have a broken leg and a concussion. I watched you crash and you didn’t get up and it was the worst thing ever.”
She takes a ragged breath. “It’s just—I’m just glad you’re okay.”
Seeing her makes me happy, and for about thirty seconds I feel relieved and glad to be with her. Then it all comes back to me, the reality of my situation and how I’ve just been injured on the first damn race of the season.
“This sucks,” I say, covering my eyes with the hand that’s not holding onto Keanna. “I’m out for six weeks.”
“Marcus is waiting in the lobby,” she says. “He’s not mad,” she adds after my eyes go wide. “He’s just really concerned about you. He sent Clay in to race after you left, and he qualified in the next heat race so Team Loco is still being represented tomorrow.”
I nod slowly. “That’s good.”
She squeezes my hand. “Marcus wants you to focus on getting better and then he’s putting you right back into the races. He told me to tell you that so you wouldn’t be mad.”
I chuckle. “So, he’s not kicking me off the team.”
“No way.” She leans down and kisses me. “You’re just on a short hiatus.”
“Hey now,” I say, giving her a playful look. “Sisters don’t kiss their brothers like that.”
She turns beet red. “Shut up! I had to say it so they’d let me on the ambulance.”
I run my thumb across her palm, staring at the ring I gave her. “We should get married. Then you’ll have all legal rights to be with my broken ass in the hospital.”
She swallows. “What, like right now?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. Soon. I mean…that’s where we’re headed, right?”
Her lips break into a smile that’s so sweet it makes my heart hurt. “I hope so,” she says quietly. “But you can’t just marry me because it makes it easier to get into your hospital room.”
“That’s not why I’d be marrying you,” I say. It’s a sweet moment, but a nurse interrupts us by barging in and talking about the discharge procedure. I’m loaded into a wheelchair and rolled outside where Marcus is waiting in my truck to take me back to my hotel.
Every freaking bump on the road sends pain shooting through my head, but I believe the doctor when he says my concussion isn’t too bad. I’ve had worse. My leg aches as well, so the hospital meds are probably starting to wear off.
Clay and Marcus help me get into a wheelchair the hotel has on hand while Keanna looks at me like I’m go into break into pieces if I’m not handled carefully. “I’m fine,” I tell her. “I’ll be able to walk on crutches after my freaking head gets a little better.”
“We’re getting you a wheelchair,” she says, her face resolute. “I have to go fill your pain med prescription so I’ll get a wheelchair, too.”
“I’ll drive you,” Clay tells her as we all pile into the hotel elevator.
“Thank you,” she says, giving him a smile. She puts a hand on my shoulder. “You’re going straight to bed, mister. No walking around. You need to rest.”
“Shit, how the hell am I going to get us home tomorrow?” I say, looking down at my foot. I can’t exactly drive with a huge ass cast on my right foot.
“I’ll drive us,” she says. Despite how she’s scared of big trucks and she’s never driven mine at all, she says it with confidence and a tone in her voice that says I’m not allowed to argue.
I kind of like it when she gets like this. It’s totally sexy.
When I’m in my hotel room, Clay and Keanna head to the nearest pharmacy and my heart immediately beats a little harder in what is most definitely jealousy. I’m glad it’s Clay with her though…the other guys on my team would no doubt try to hit on her. But Clay only cares about motocross, so hitting on my girlfriend would be the last thing on his mind.
Marcus gets me a soda and hangs around while we wait for them to get back. I know the procedure—get a concussion, have everyone watch you like a baby for a few hours. It’s annoying.
“You got a good girlfriend,” Marcus says.
