Me:Text you later. Got a patient. Got news for you, too. Later!
Den:Oh, sure, just leave me hanging!
I wipe my hands and mouth with a napkin and stand to greet my hero, Jett, who’s just walked in. What are the odds of running into him at work after meeting him this past weekend? It’s got to be fate or some shit. Fate for what? Who knows?
My stomach does a weird twisting thing. “Settle down,” I tell it.
Jett’s wearing a coach’s track and field uniform and helping a girl limp over to me. Oh, hell! Does he actually work at the university? Jett vanished from the media spotlight for the past two years, only to turn up in Eugene of all places,andhe works here?
The runner is clearly in pain, and her ankle is red and swollen, likely due to a torn ligament.
“Can we get some help over here?” he asks. His face is hard and tense, his brows set low over his dark brown eyes. “No one seems to be fu… around.” Recognition flashes in his eyes. “I remember you. Wilson, right?”
I swear to god, he’s intentionally getting my name wrong. What a dick. This is why they say to never meet your heroes in person. You’ll always be disappointed.
“You know it’s Wes.”
As soon as he opens his mouth, I look at the girl. “Why don’t you have a seat over on the treatment table in the corner there. I’ll take a look at your foot.”
“It looks like a sprain,” Jett says, looking around. “Where is everyone?”
“Lunch.”
He huffs as we help the runner walk to the table and sit. I squat in front of her, lift her leg by her calf, careful not to hurt her.
“So, they leaveyouin charge?” he asks.Jesus. What’s with this dude?
“Yep, the department felt the most useless person should be put in charge around here.”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” he mumbles.
“Yes, you did. Anyway, there are other people here, man. I’m just eating my lunch in the open.”
He doesn’t apologize, just squats next to the girl and me.
“What’s your name?” I ask her.
“Jenny.”
I gently feel around her ankle and foot. There’s heat coming off it, and it’s plenty swollen. “What exactly happened?”
“I… tripped over one of the hurdles,” she says. Her face blooms pink. “Rookie mistake.”
“You’re supposed to jumpoverthem, not right into them.” I wink at her, and she smiles back.
Jett makes a low growl. “She said she tripped.”
I exhale a long breath; otherwise, I’m going to snap at him. “Yeah, I know.” What’s with this dude? Nice to know famous athletes are as arrogant as other famous people. It kind of dims his light for me. “Can you give me some space to work, please? You’re breathing all over me.”
Jett stands and sits on one of the stools. He’s stiff, his arms crossed, exposing well-defined muscles. I glance away and focus on Jenny.
“It could be the anterior talofibular ligament, but we won’t know for sure until you can get some scans. For now, I can get it wrapped up to limit movement.”
I grab an ace bandage from storage and wrap her ankle with it.
“Will I be able to race?” she asks.
“It depends on the severity.”
