Page 32 of His Christmas Love Song

“It’s Ryan. He left the lodge in your car, and we were trying to decide if we should go after him, but then Hank got a call from emergency services that there’d been an accident. He’s going to open up the clinic.”

Jesse can’t comprehend what Cameron is telling him. “An accident—Ryan? How bad—” He can’t even finish that sentence in his head.

“I don’t know. Hank thought you’d want to come to the clinic, but you weren’t answering.”

“I put my phone on silent so I could concentrate. Has he left yet?” Jesse reaches back to grab his jacket from the bed, leaving behind everything else.

“I don’t know. You might be able to catch him.”

Jesse runs, tearing down the staircase to the lobby in time to see Hank’s truck pulling away from the entrance. He bursts out of the door, yelling at the top of his lungs. He races through the snow, which is pouring from the sky like feathers from a torn pillow, certain Hank’s not going to stop. But then his brake lights go on, and the pickup slows. Jesse’s eternally grateful he’s still wearing his boots from his walk in the woods earlier that day. He snaps open the door and hauls himself into the cab, taking in Hank’s worried posture. It’s only when Hank pulls carefully onto the road that he realizes he’s still clutching his jacket. He puts in on mechanically.

“Buckle up,” Hank says gruffly.

Jesse does as he’s told, then gets his phone out of his jacket pocket. He stares at the screen while Hank explains he doesn’t know much more than there was a single car accident on Echo Bridge and the cops are bringing the driver to the clinic to get checked out. He’s listening to Hank, but his eyes are on his notifications. Three calls from Cameron, one from an unknown number that must be Hank’s. And one from Ryan. When had Ryan called him? Before he left? After his accident? Ryan had needed Jesse and Jesse hadn’t been there for him.

“Can you go any faster?” It’s a childish question. He’s lucky to be tagging along at all.

But Hank answers in a soft voice. “I’m going as fast as I can. It’s not far, but the roads haven’t been plowed.”

“Should I call him?” Jesse has never needed to hear someone’s voice as much as he needs to hear Ryan’s right now.

“You can try, but we’ll be there in a minute anyway.”

Jesse punches the call button before Hank finishes talking. It takes a while for the connection to go through but eventually the phone starts to ring. Hank turns onto Main Street, and Jesse spots the forest green police cruiser parked in front of the squat clinic building. As they approach and pull in next to the cruiser, Jesse can see Ryan’s silhouette in the back of the car and he just about passes out from relief. Ryan’s sitting up. He’s not answering his phone, but that doesn’t matter now. Jesse hops out the second Hank puts the truck into park.

“Ryan!” He waves at the window, not caring if he looks like an idiot in front of Hank or the two uniformed police officers sitting in the front seat. Ryan turns his head at the sound of Jesse’s voice. For a moment Jesse flashes back to the first time he was on the outside looking at Ryan through a car window and his heart misses a beat in fear. Ryan holds his gaze, his expression unreadable, but he’s awake and alert. This isn’t six years ago. Jesse breathes out heavily.

The driver’s door opens, and a slightly built woman gets out. “You’re not Dr. Moore,” she observes.

“I’m Jesse Arlyn,” he says, jerking his head to the side. “Hank’s right here.”

“Hey, Letty,” Hank says, unlocking the front door of the clinic with a set of jangling keys. “Find me a customer?”

“Yeah, an out-of-towner who doesn’t know how to drive in snow,” the officer—Letty—says dispassionately as she opens the rear door. “But he’ll live.”

“Ryan, are you okay? What happened? Are you hurt? Talk to me.” Jesse can’t help the flood of words as Ryan gingerly gets out of the car, holding his right arm.

“I’m okay,” Ryan says. “The rental’s pretty banged up, though. Did you get the extra insurance?”

Jesse is helpless against the tears that fill his eyes. “Please don’t joke right now, Jesus.” He hovers by Ryan’s side as they walk the ten feet to the clinic entrance through the slippery snow. Ryan’s sneakers look soaked through, and his jeans are wet in patches, too. “You’re all wet. You must be freezing.”

“You all set here?” Letty asks.

Hank nods. “I’ve got him. You guys stay safe out there tonight,” he says, ushering Ryan and Jesse into the warm clinic. They pass a small waiting area with a desk, then Hank leads them through to an exam room. He washes his hands at the sink while he asks Ryan what hurts.

“Just my elbow, I think,” Ryan says as he sits down on the exam table. “I’m really fine. I didn’t even get hurt in the crash. I got out of the car and then fell on my ass—actually, on my elbow.”

Jesse jumps in. “But how did the car crash? Where? Why were you even on the road?”

Hank steps right up to his face and all Jesse can see are Hank’s steely brown eyes. “Jesse Arlyn, you have two choices. You can sit down in that chair and keep your mouth shut or you can go wait outside.”

Jesse tries to peer around Hank to check in with Ryan, but Hank doesn’t budge. He opens his mouth and Hank’s glare hardens. He slowly closes his mouth, turns around, and drops into the hard plastic chair in the corner. As Hank turns his attention away, Jesse tries to catch Ryan’s gaze with his own, but Ryan isn’t looking at him.

“Let’s see,” Hank says. Ryan tries to remove his jacket, but the motion seems to bother his elbow. Hank helps him peel off his outer layer, then the thick flannel shirt underneath, then roll up the sleeve of his green long-sleeved tee. He assesses Ryan’s arm and elbow joint with long, capable fingers.

Jesse wriggles in his seat, trying to quell the spike of jealousy at Hank touching Ryan. He knows the touch is clinical, that he needs to determine the damage. He was an EMT himself a lifetime ago. He knows how it works. But his own fingers itch with the need to touch Ryan, to reassure himself his friend is in one piece.

When Ryan attempts to extend his arm, he winces in pain.