She knew it wasn’t good because, holy shit, it hurt. And it wasn’t normal for white spots to dance across her vision even when she had her glasses off. She staggered a step, and Jamie caught her before she fell. Yeah, this dizziness wasn’t normal, either.
Jamie guided her to the bed and sat her down. He propped pillows against the headboard and leaned her back. Then he pulled off the towel, presumably to inspect the wound again. Brynn couldn’t see the injury, so she could only guess.
“I don’t think you need stitches, but that’s one hell of a goose egg you’ve got already.” He handed her glasses to her, and she managed to get them on. “I’m guessing based on proximity that it’s the towel rack’s ass I have to kick?”
She nodded and tried to smile, but the movement filled her vision with stars again. “Dizzy,” she said. “Am I still bleeding?”
He pulled the towel away, the white towel that now looked like part of a crime scene, and Brynn gasped.
“I could put you in a taxi to the ER,” he said, and a smile crept on to his face.
She thwacked him on the shoulder, and even though her head throbbed, she laughed.
“I couldn’t leave Annie’s store unattended, you jerk. You know I felt like crap stabbing you and then making you go alone.”
His smile broadened. “You finally admit to stabbing me!” He was exultant now. “And I know you hated letting me go on my own, B,” he said, and he blotted the wound again. “It’s not bleeding too badly, which is a good sign, but you could have a concussion. I’m going to run to the main office and see if I can get you some ice and a bandage. If the dizziness hasn’t gone away by the time I get back, we’re finding a hospital.”
Brynn groaned. “Stupid karma.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “I’ll be right back. Don’t go to sleep or anything, and keep pressure on the wound.” Jamie kissed her on the top of her head as if everything between them was fine. “And stop blaming karma. You’re legally blind without your glasses. Plus, I know you’ve got some twisted vendetta against motel towel racks. You should probably seek professional help.”
He was out the door after that, and Brynn resisted the urge to close her eyes, just in case she was concussed. She was grateful they could still come together in a crisis—a small, stupid crisis that would mean her having to explain her injury to anyone who saw her in the next week at least. The valley between them hadn’t grown too wide to cross. Not yet, at least.
Minutes later, the door burst open, and Jamie walked in—still shirtless, by the way—with a bag of ice, a box of gauze, and a middle-aged man.
“I didn’t think I was that dizzy,” Brynn said, “but now I think I’m seeing double. Except the second you is a few years older and maybe more ruggedly handsome.”
The man did wear his salt and pepper hair well and had that perma five o’clock shadow look that she liked.
“So she’s making jokes,” the stranger said, moving to sit on the edge of Brynn’s bed. “That’s a good sign.”
“Not good ones,” Jamie mumbled, and then he added, “Brynn, this is Dr. George. He’s a pediatrician from San Jose.”
Her brows furrowed. “And they had him up at the front desk for you to borrow?”
The man laughed. “I was getting a bag of ice to bring back to my room. My wife hates drinking soda without it.”
“I like her already,” she said.
“I can’t consider this an official medical evaluation because we aren’t in the office, no insurance, you get the gist. We will have to consider this an evaluation by a civilian, regardless of my credentials. I can tell you whether or not you have a concussion, which may save you a trip to the ER, but you should follow up with your regular doctor within the week if you’re still experiencing symptoms.”
Jamie sat on the side of his own bed to face them.
“I checked his ID. He’s legit.”
Brynn squeezed her eyes shut. “I’m kind of mortified he pulled you away from your family for my ridiculous accident.”
Dr. George shook his head. “I offered. Happy to help.” He leaned closer to her and spoke softly. “Plus, your friend here was out of his mind with worry. I’m sure you’re fine, but I couldn’t leave him in that state.”
She bit her lip and looked at Jamie, knowing he heard every word the doctor said because, duh, they were in a teepee.
“Even Mr. Level-Headed loses his cool sometimes, I guess.”
Jamie pressed his lips into a thin smile, but the worry in those blue eyes was evident.
Dr. George pulled a penlight out of a messenger bag he wore across his body.
“I’m just going to do a quick examination, and then it’s up to you two what you do next, okay?”