Page 44 of Meet Me at the Christmas Cottage
“I said it doesn’tseemlike you have a concussion, but I’d still like to get you to the clinic so we can officially rule it out. You also need an ice pack and some ibuprofen. Let’s get you up.”
Putting his hands under her arms, Jonah hauled her to her feet. Bronte grabbed his arms, her breathing quickening.
Jonah dipped his head, stepping closer to her to support her weight better. His heart squeezed seeing her obvious pain. “You good?”
“Just give me a minute,” Bronte whispered back. Jonah laced his arms around her, clasping his hands on the small of her back.
“Do you need me to carry you to the med station?”
Bronte huffed out a laugh. “I do not want to bring any more attention to myself than I already have. At least it seems like the fan club is gone.”
“Aw, come on. It could be fun. Everyone will think we’re filming a Hallmark movie or something.”
“Jonah White, you and I have two very different definitions offun.”
“Jonah? Bronte? Oh my goodness!” Jordi appeared from the crowd. “A kid came by the Tourism Bureau, where the med station’s set up, and said someone fell and hit their head. I never thought it’d be you.”
“You’re working the med station?” Jonah asked.
“No, I just stopped by to see if Dr. Nova needed anything to eat. She’s been pretty busy all day but mostly with headaches and dehydration. Nothing like this. She’s on her way.”
“Help me get her to the med station? We’ll meet the doctor on the way.” Jonah shifted, still not letting Bronte go but instead keeping an arm around her.
“You got it.” Jordi spun on her heel and clapped her hands. “Okay, people, make a path. We gotta get to the med station!”
Bronte winced. “That’s not exactly what I had in mind when I said I didn’t want to draw any attention.”
Jonah chuckled and tucked Bronte even closer into his side. “I’ll hide you, and we’ll make it there with no one noticing you.”
They met up with Dr. Nova Lake, her thick black hair in a braid draped over her shoulder, and followed her the rest of the way to the clinic. Finally, inside the warm Tourism Bureau, where Jonathon Island Medical Clinic had set up a temporary med station, they made quick introductions and Jonah explained what had happened. Dr. Nova had Bronte sit in a folding chair while she got her an ice pack.
Dr. Nova whistled, seeing the goose egg on Bronte’s forehead. “That’s quite the bump you have there.” Taking a penlight out, she bent only slightly to shine it in each of Bronte’s eyes. “Are you dizzy at all?”
Bronte started to shake her head but stopped with a grimace. “No,” she said instead.
“That’s good. Did you black out at all?”
“At this point, I kind of wish I had. It would have saved me from having to experience the embarrassment.”
The doctor chuckled and continued going through a full exam to make sure they didn’t need to head to the hospital on the mainland. Jonah knew his dad had gotten someone to fill in at the practice until Jonah could retire from the Army and come back and take over, but he had expected someone older than him, and maybe someone a little taller. Dr. Nova barely reached his shoulder, but what she lacked in size, she made up for with presence. Her wide smile made him feel at ease, and Bronte had visibly sighed.
“Well, the good thing is, the major’s assessment in the field was correct. You don’t have a concussion.” She handed Bronte a gel ice pack and dropped her penlight into the pocket of the white lab coat she had thrown over her jeans and sweater. “But you will have an epic headache for a little while.”
“Yeah, it’s already hurting pretty good.”
“Let me go get you some ibuprofen from the lockbox. Just sit tight, and I’ll be right back.” The doctor patted Bronte on her knee and ducked out of the room.
Gingerly, Bronte pressed the ice pack to her forehead. She’d taken off her beanie, her hair, still in its braid, draped over her shoulder.
He shouldn’t have let himself be pushed away from her. He should have planted his feet and gotten her out of there. Jonah ran his hand down his face.
“Now, don’t go blaming yourself for this,” Bronte said, her voice rough with pain.
“Who said I was blaming myself?”
Bronte motioned to him. “It’s all over…you.”
“I just?—”
