Page 112 of Middle Ground
“Meyer?” one of the paramedics says.
I look over my shoulder, then turn back to Ilsa, conflicted. I want to keep talking, to learn everything there is to know about her, but this other part of me is tugging in Jackson’s direction.
“Go,” she urges. She pulls her hands back and clasps them in front of her. “Please tell Jackson I’m sorry he was hurt because of me. This never should have happened.”
“It shouldn’t have, but it’s not your fault.” I go to walk away, but then I think better of it. Quickly, I step forward and wrap my arms around her again. “Sorry. I decided I wasn’t ready to let go just yet.”
Ilsa presses her temple to mine. “You never have to be sorry about that.”
“Okay, I’m really going now! I’ll come see you in a couple days. We can talk.”
This time, her smile is familiar. Warm. “I’d like that.”
I offer her a parting wave, and then I walk over to the ambulance. Jackson is sitting on the back, an ice pack held to his head. He looks a little worse for wear, but he’s whole. That’s the only thing that matters to me in this moment.
“What’s the verdict?” I ask. “Did the blow to the head manage to knock all the smugness out or what?”
Jackson glowers, but Gina, a woman I went to high school with, laughs. “All in all, your boyfriend is pretty lucky,” she says.
Lucky because he wasthis closeto getting more than just a flesh wound. That sick feeling from earlier comes back.
“His arm has been bandaged up. That wound is superficial. And there doesn’t seem to be signs of a concussion, but I’d like you to keep an eye on him tonight just in case. Extreme headache or dizziness, that sort of thing, you should head to the hospital.”
I take Jackson’s face in my hands and inspect the bandage plastered to his hairline. “Will this scar?” I ask Gina. “His face is his most redeeming quality.”
The hand resting on my lower back skates down and pinches my ass. “And here I thought you loved me for my personality,” he says with a pout.
I roll my eyes, but the relief that sweeps through me nearly knocks me over. The fact that he’s teasing right now means that he’s alright. That Felix didn’t succeed in taking him from me.
Turning back to the paramedic, I say, “He has a wonky heart, too. Did you check that?”
Jackson sighs from beside me. “She did, and it’sfine.”
“I think I’d like to hear it from the medical professional, thanks.”
Gina tries to hide her laugh. “I listened to his heart and it sounds perfectly fine, all things considered.”
I nod. “Thank you. I promise I’ll take good care of him tonight.”
She smiles. “Good to see you, Meyer, though I wish it was under better circumstances.”
Jackson stands from the ambulance’s bumper, and we let Gina and her partner pack up their rig.
I take Jackson’s face in my hands again. I search his eyes, checking for the millionth time that he’s alright.
“How are you not freaking out right now?” I ask. “Because I’m kind of freaking out.”
He shrugs. “Must be the head injury.”
I frown, not finding it all that funny anymore. “That was really fucked up," I say quietly. “He could’ve really hurt you or Ilsa. He could’ve?—”
“But he didn’t.” Jackson tucks me against him, his chin resting on top of my head. “You and Ilsa did good. I’m okay.”
I press my ear to his chest, listening to the steady pumping of his heart. To double check. For a guy who was held hostage earlier today, his heart is beating at a relatively normal pace.
“You’re okay.”
I take a few moments to soak him in, his comforting presence, and then I pull back. Now, he reaches out and cups my cheek, his thumb brushing against my skin.
