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“Should we call your brother?” asks Claire.
At this moment, my mind reaches in the direction of who I want right now.
Not Bryn.
I want Jax.
37
TEGAN
The private emergency department nurses watch with whispers and smiles as I argue with Bryn over whether I should stay at the hospital and be monitored for concussion. Thankfully, once they clean up the wound on my forehead, the damage isn’t too bad.
I sit on the chair next to the hospital bed, refusing to make myself a patient by lying on it and ignoring the fact my head still throbs despite the painkillers. Bryn’s large frame takes up the corner of the room, where he stands arms crossed, scowling.
“What the hell were you thinking going out on your own?” he asks.
“I’ve been out on my own a few times since I arrived back in London! This was wrong place, wrong time.”
“This is insane! Look at you!” Bryn gestures at my head. “You’ll have to be careful. Where’s Jax?”
“Manchester. You know he is.”
“Have you managed to contact him yet?”
“No.”
The hmm noise Bryn makes riles me, and I swear he muttered ‘I told you so’ under his breath. I squeeze my eyes closed. Do not cry. The horror of the evening shook through my body earlier and has now switched to numb shock. Dazed as much by the attack as the bang on the head, I try to contact Jax each time Bryn isn’t looking. 12 a.m. and still no response from Jax. Not even a text or drunken message.
The doctor isn’t on my side; he recommends I stay in hospital overnight. I argue in vain, and eventually give in when I become too tired to bother arguing anymore. Bryn heads home leaving me some breathing space at least. I curl up in the large bed of the private hospital room. I guess the expensively furnished room is more like a hotel and less like the tiled ward with rows of metal beds I stayed in when I had my tonsils removed as a kid. The doctor promises I can leave in the morning and I settle to sleep. I’ll pretend I’m not in hospital.
As the nurses check me every hour, sleep isn’t happening. I groan as the door opens again, waking me, and pull the thin sheet over my head.
“Tegan?”
At Jax’s voice, I sit upright and stare across the room. His unmistakable figure is framed by the light in the hallway and my pulse rate hikes at seeing the man I’ve dreamed about over this last week away from him. “What are you doing here?”
“I heard what happened.” Jax quietly closes the door and crosses to the bed where he sits and pulls me into his arms, squashing my sore cheek against his chest.
Immediately the smell of alcohol envelops me, interfering with the subtle mix of scents I associate with Jax and comfort. “You’re drunk!”
“I’m not. I was. Not now. Slept it off on the drive down.”
I pull away. “Hang on a minute. You’re in Manchester.”
Jax’s face is hard to make out in the dark and I switch the lamp on. He strokes my face. “No. I’m here.”
“You came down from Manchester?”
His eyes widen as the lamp lights my features too. “Of course I fucking did! You’re in hospital! I called someone to bring me straight down to London as soon as I found out from Bryn what was happening. Not that the driver was very happy about his late night trip.” Jax cups my chin in his hands, studies the wound on my forehead, and scratches on my cheek. “Jesus, Tegan. Look at your face.”
“You weren’t answering your phone. You didn’t call back.”
“I did. You must’ve been asleep by the time I called because you didn’t answer.”
I grab my phone from the bedside cabinet. Missed call. 2 a.m. Four hours ago. “Crap. Did I sleep that long?”
Jax places his mouth on mine, the sleeves of the leather jacket cool against my face as he puts his arms around my neck. His kiss is gentle and loving, not the usual lust we reunite with after time apart. I relish the taste of him, despite the bitter edge of his evening drinking, as I’m drawn into us and away from the crazy edging our world.
